Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Tag
Cactus Blossom –Photo-Artistry by kenne
Cactus Flower
Sun, glare, heat, sweat
Dry, hot, summer, parched
Thirst
Brightly colored blossoms excite, invite
Gems
Longing for a hug
Not emotionally available
Sage green so tall and free, yet not a tree
Blooming high towards the desert sky
Far out of reach, not open to being that close
Pining for snuggles
Spikes
Burning desire to reciprocate your grandeur, but you don’t answer
Thorns
Glorious beauty
Why why why not for me?
Someday
Will I ever be, your bee?
— Michelethe Trainer
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Prickly Pear Blossoms — Images by kenne
Desert’s Beauty
it blooms in the spring
cactus flower everywhere
desert’s beauty thrives
— Anna M Shepard
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Driving Through West Texas — Image by kenne
West Texas
West Texas is a never-ending ocean of hot sand
Winding dunes shifting and changing earth’s skin
Cactuses standing sentinel over desolate wasteland
Tumbleweeds carried by parched bone-dry wind.
Behold the cactus country scorched and unforgiving
Dry hard packed earth baked in the intense sunlight
Heat rising and objects in the distance shimmering
Then comes the mirage the dreamy desert sight.
Gusting howling wind whistling over crumbling rock
Slowly forming wind-worn rock formation over time
Lost in time but not a prisoner to any man’s clock
Boundless desert will be painted poetic and sublime.
The least little bits of wind will raise puffs of dust
Dust Devils swirl on the dunes and dancing perform
Leaving clouds of dusty grit floating like smoke thus
A prelude to the nightmare of a desert sandstorm.
There is an oasis in the desert a haven from the sear
Cooling waters and with vibrant desert blooms are rife
A beauty is in the desert’s pure clean atmosphere
West Texas is arid fierce and fiery but it’s full of life…..
Nobody Special
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A White Rose To Joy On Our Anniversary — Photo-Artistry by kenne
The White Rose
The red rose whispers of passion,
And the white rose breathes of love;
O, the red rose is a falcon,
And the white rose is a dove.
But I send you a cream-white rosebud
With a flush on its petal tips;
For the love that is purest and sweetest
Has a kiss of desire on the lips.
— John Boyle O’Reilly
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Death Of A Tulip — Photo-Artistry by kenne
“To be a Flower, is profound
Responsibility —”
— from Bloom by Emily Dickinson
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View of Sedona from Airport Road — Panorama by kenne
Clouds under a blue sky
can’t resist reaching down
kissing the red rocks
of beautiful Sedona Arizona.
— kenne
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West of Tucson — Panorama Image by kenne
The trail is dusty
Stirred only by our steps,
A soft breeze unable to lift
The dust above our boots
Often coming together as strangers
Sharing a love of the wild
And a desire to hear sounds
In nature’s best.
Nature walks are fine
Surrounded by experts
Who share their knowledge
Born with a feel for the moment
An eye for beauty and form
Nature speaking to the senses
Where nothing is perfect
And everything Is perfect.
— kenne
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Cat’s Claw Vines In The Neighborhood (Tanuri Ridge) — HDR Images by kenne
The Cat’s Claw
the high nectar bent on a straw
the cat’s claw
a lazy man’s portion
the sound of its slogan
a view from the ocean
into the oven
under the covers
the stomach or the shoulders
balance is the key to power
the milk will sour
read between the lines
a fashionable design
bending the desire
coming down to the wire
— Lal Ratnakar
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Petal Wings — Photo-Artistry by kenne
My tears are like the quiet drift
Of petals from some magic rose;
And all my grief flows from the rift
Of unremembered skies and snows.
I think, that if I touched the earth,
It would crumble;
It is so sad and beautiful,
So tremulously like a dream.
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Property Line Outside Tucson– Image by kenne
Three Sketches of Anxiety
I’ve got two hands and an urge
to yank out your teeth,
my lover said, dropping the dress
she made from my shirt
to the floor, to see the landscape
a mouth of holes might look like.
Maybe jagged potholes on a rainslick
street, she said, climbing over
the bed. Maybe, she winked, a prairie
dog town in West Texas after a flood.
—Curtis Bauer
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Costa’s Hummingbird Outside Kitchen Window – Image by kenne
Don’t Allow the Lucid Moment to Dissolve
Don’t allow the lucid moment to dissolve
Let the radiant thought last in stillness
though the page is almost filled and the flame flickers
We haven’t risen yet to the level of ourselves
Knowledge grows slowly like a wisdom tooth
The stature of a man is still notched
high up on a white door
From far off, the joyful voice of a trumpet
and of a song rolled up like a cat
What passes doesn’t fall into a void
A stoker is still feeding coal into the fire
Don’t allow the lucid moment to dissolve
On a hard dry substance
you have to engrave the truth
— Adam Zagajewski
Translated by Renata Gorczynski
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Madidi National Park (Bolivia) Sunset Along The Beni River (9/19/19) — Image by kenne
Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading me wherever I choose,
Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,
Strong and content I travel the open road.
— from Song of the Open Road by Walt Whitman
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Hiking Shoes — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Stumble On
My hiking shoes rest in the garage
Next to the hiking poles, yet
I continue to stumble on —
Stumble on down life’s path.
A life of jogging, enduring pain
Followed by a decade of hiking
Enduring pain in an old man’s body,
Yet I continue to stumble on —
Stumble on down life’s path
Trying not to let a stumble
Become a fall on life’s path.
— kenne
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Blue Palo Verde Are In Full Bloom In Tanuri Ridge — Images by kenne
Palo Verde
Green clinger on arid arroyo rock,
Spring blooms of faded yellow you did drop.
Desert dry took a toll of leaf and branch
Leaving photosynthesis to your bark.
Life is tough, lizard kissed, so short and harsh.
Unlike upland cousins, you are blessed:
In your shelter rests a saguaro babe,
Whose stately arms one day will take your place.
— David Drowley
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Ocotillos produce clusters of bright red flowers at their stem tips, which explain the plant’s name.
Ocotillo means “little torch” in Spanish — Images by kenne
Waiting It Out
Desert display
as Saguaro’s spiny arms
raise to the darkening blue sky.
Days of heat waves
chase Ocotillo flower buds
drooping slowly in the mauve air
very still … and then,
with the distant rumble of thunder
and a flash of lightening,
comes a first drop.
Coming fast, the rain begins
a flood within the gulch
and there, from nowhere,
from the nothing dust,
from the ether
reconstituted
as out of a mirage
appears by the side of the road …
a toad.
— Sue Mason
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Becoming is Superior to Being 