Archive for the ‘Poet’ Tag

Pay Attention Like A Poet   3 comments

Twl-art-blog“Twig” — Photo-Artistry by kenne

Pay attention like a poet
and you will find a story.
Each twig on a bush

begins to be the story itself,
providing a basic truth
from which you can exaggerate,
but you’re still working with the basic truth.

— kenne

“Poetry is just the evidence of Life” — Leonard Cohen ~ 1934-2016   Leave a comment

leonard-cohenLeonard Cohen — Image source: balkanrock.com

This morning I learned of the passing of one of North America’s greatest poets, novelists, and singer/songwriters of our time. Like many others who listen to public radio, it was just a few days ago I was listening to KCRW’s Chris Douridas interview Cohen after the release of his latest album, “You Want It Darker.” At 82, he had not been in the best of health, but such news always carries an element of surprise. Click here to listen to the Chris Douridas.

kenne

Hallelujah — Leonard Cohen (YouTube Video)

 

 

 

Wisdom of Art   1 comment

Two-Tailed Swallowtail Butterflies (1 of 6)-Art blog“Wisdom of Art” — Computer Art by kenne

“This is the wisdom of art, the knowledge that beauty perhaps is the one undeniably unique attribute of the human.”

— C. K. Williams

Alone In The Night Shadows II   6 comments

Milagrosa Loop-9084_Alone In The Night Shadows II Moon blogAlone In The Night Shadows II — Image by kenne

Alone in the night shadows

Abandoned in the darkness

Tall sentinels raise their arms

In the light of the full moon

Facing the old ranch house

Where the poet is signing

As the night-raven sings

In concert with howling coyotes

Under the alluring moonlight.

– kenne

Alone In The Night Shadows   2 comments

Milagrosa Loop-9084 Sepia blogAlone In The Night Shadows — Image by kenne

Alone in the night shadows

Abandoned in the darkness

Tall sentinels raise their arms

When the full moon is out

Facing the old ranch house

Where the poet is signing

As the night-raven sings

In concert with howling coyotes

Under the trembling moonlight.

— kenne

Charles Bukowski: A Bio Poem   2 comments

Charles Bukowski Art Quote blogImage by kenne

Charles Bukowski: A Bio Poem

yes,
there was a
Charles Bukowski
sad eyes
weary voice
a poet-recluse

writing about
down and outs
skid row
alcohol
relationships with women

German American
raised catholic
abused
shy, alienated
teenage acne
desperate days of the

great depression

attended
Los Angeles City College
art,
journalism
literature
flirted with the far right

grew bored
failed a physical and
psychological exam
classified 4-f
“on a Santa Monica Monday”

first story
published at 24
grew disillusioned
quit writing
“on the sidewalk
and in the sun”

ten-year drunk
bleeding ulcer
nearly died
begin writing poetry

first wife
small town Texas poet
decapitated in India
religious zealots
obscure cult

traumatized by wife’s death
resulting in a
powerful series of poems
“I hold fast to me,
that’s all there is.”

series of muses
a daughter
ten years with post office

wrote a column
notes of a
dirty old man

quit the post office
decided to starve
full-time writer
a loner

unable to live alone
“because I’ve got
a pocket full of dreams…”

move to San Pedro
married Linda
referred to as Sara
died at 73

many consider
Bukowski’s writings
those of a taboo
male fantasy

“they say that
nothing is wasted
either that
or
it all is.”

— kenne

Charles Bukowski in Ham On Rye writes of Henry Chinaski, his raw voice alter ego having a beer with Becker:

“. . . I’d like to be a correspondent in Washington, D.C. I’d like to be where big things are happening.”
“Washington’s crap, Becker.”
“And women? Marriage? Children?”
“Crap.”
“Yeah? Well, what do you want?”
“To hide.”
“You poor fuck. You need another beer.”
“All right.”
The beer arrived.

Buk31Source: Booktryst

“The difference between life and art is art is more bearable.”
– Charles Bukowski

 

Decoding Poetry — Revisited   5 comments

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAAJ Murphy — Image by kenne

Decoding Poetry

Poetry,
what is it?
Is it not all things
we experience —

Feelings?
Thoughts?
Ideas?
Wisdom?
Beauty?
Music?
Art?
In human existence?

Yet,
some claim
the words of poetry,
as if anointed
announcing to the world,
“I know the code!”

Poetry is not a code,
allowing entrance
only to a few
fettered and packaged
for the scholarly.

If I experience
my life
in the words of another,
it is poetry?
For it is I
who holds the code
to my existence.

In the end,
there is no right
or wrong answer –
poetry is like dancing,
if it feels good,
do it!

Kenne

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