Bronc Rider (02/15/14)– Image by kenne
Cowboys are known, to have a way of their own,
to sort out a sense of fair play.
You ride for the brand, or a shake of the hand,
that’s always been “The Cowboy Way”.
“The Cowboy Way” is not a phrase,
to be abused and misconstrued.
It’s a way of life, a reason to fight,
it’s a lifestyle through and through.
— from “The Cowboy Way” by Jim Liles
A Winter Sunset In The Sonoran Desert — Image by kenne
A Winter Sunset
The winds are blowing
across the winter sky
colors moving in this
land of the setting sun.
Lovers raise a glass of wine
hearts warmed by the colors
as they lay quietly together
embracing nature’s moment.
Other sunsets will happen
bringing passion and joy
each sharing day’s passing
with those who participate.
Sunsets are always new
generating energy called love
to be shared with someone
since the beginning of time.
— kenne
Intense Drought In Sabino Canyon — Image by kenne
The Sonoran Desert
known for its biodiversity
having two rainy seasons
the summer monsoon
and winter rainy season
now experiencing drought.
Normal drought conditions
made worse by La Niña
event reducing rainfall.
Many native plants are dying
vegetation green-up is poor
during this intense drought.
— kenne
Bear Canyon — Image by kenne
— kenne
Cholla Cactus in Sabino Canyon — Image by kenne
— kenne
Sabino Canyon Panorama (February 9,2021) by kenne
Vista Ramada
the ones who live in the desert,
if you knew them
you would understand everything.
— Lucille Clifton
Biosphere II — Photo-Artistry by kenne
West Texas — Photo-Artistry by kenne
I want to dance on your planes,
Twirl in the rain,
And let the drops fall between my lips like the crevices of your canyons,
Brought to life when you are,
Slumber when you do,
Live each day as you live,
My sweet West Texas.
— from West Texas by Emily Miller
Gray Heron (Benson Sculpture Garden) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
And I rose
In a rainy autumn
And walked abroad in shower of all my days
High tide and the heron dived when I took the road
Over the border
And the gates
Of the town closed as the town awoke.
―
Fishing From the Boat Dock — Photo-Artistry by kenne
No bait,
only a bullet weight
on the end of the line —
does it really
matter to the boy?
A quiet boy
in a world
all his own
where silence
creates inwardness.
He was six
when this
photograph
was taken all
those years ago.
It’s easy to
wonder what he
was thinking —
‘what’ doesn’t matter
for they were pure.
It is these
moments
sliced out of time —
melancholy with
all its charms.
Moments exist,
otherwise
everything in life
would all happen
at once.
By watching and
connecting with
everything around me,
I have become a
connoisseur of empathy.
— kenne
La Paz Bolivia Street Scene (August 2019) — Image by kenne
To be born a man
She works so hard
to make up for the sloth
of her husband, and in the house
(Pardon my surprise.)
he's so inept and pompous,
that of course he's the boss
because he's a man!
If some poems get written,
a person must have written them,
but she just transcribed them.
(Pardon my surprise.)
If we're not sure who's the poet,
why assume it was him?
Because he's a man!
A smart, classy woman
can't vote in elections,
but the poorest felon can.
(Pardon my surprise.)
If he can just sign his name
even an idiot can vote
because he's a man!
He sins and drinks and gambles
and in a backwards twist of luck
she suffers, fights, and prays.
(Pardon my surprise.)
That we call her the "frail sex"
and him the "strong sex"
because he's a man!
She has to forgive him
when he's unfaithful;
but he can avenge himself.
(Pardon my surprise.)
In a similiar case
he's allowed to kill her
because he's a man!
Oh, privileged mortal
you enjoy lifelong
honor and perfect ease!
For this, to get all this,
it's enough for you
to be born a man.
-- Bolivian Poet, Adela Zamudio
Fancy Dancer by Ethel Mortenson Davis
. . . I have been following Thomas Davis’ blog since 2012, and feel so fortunate to have found his blog.
“With billions of humans on this earth, it’s not easy to connect with poets who express the
human experience so worthy of being a poet’s poet. Thomas can open the door to why we exist!”
Meditation on Ceremonies of Beginnings — The Tribal College and World Indigenous Nations Higher
Education Consortium Poems was recently by Tribal College Press. Davis sees the book of poems as
“an introduction to the tribal college movement and the world of Indigenous nations.”
These poems tell the story of the tribal college movement. Davis writes, “They record history in a different way.
History is not just made up of facts and events, as momentous as those events may be, but also of
emotions, dreams, striving, failing, tragedy, struggling against long odds, laughter, joy, and
personalities that make significant differences even as those contributions are lost when
historians begin to shuffle through dust bins of primary sources.“
In March, 2003, Robert Martin invited Davis to Tohono O’odham in southern Arizona.
While there, he wrote “A Visit to Tohono O’odham Community College
as It is Being Born, 2/6/03.”
The poem begins:
Perry Horse said,
looking out to saguaro cactus, palo verde trees, bone-
white trunk of an eucalyptus tree, brown dryness of
desert, steep dirt sides of an arroyo,
“can you smell this place?
It smells different from your country with its trees, big
water, and winter’s deep cold.”
The arroyo channeled toward large skirts of a
mountain
that raised brown earth, dark rock into rare clouds
that looked as if they might hold rain.
Green smells of Tohono O’odham Nation were as
pale as trunks of the palo verde trees.
The last paragraph in the poem reads:
American has always been a nation of peoples, of
nations.
In desert air at night
stars hover bright and close to dark mountains
that shine and breathe
as we sing
into another time.
Davis, 74, lives in Sturgeon Bay and is the author of the award-winning novel
“In the Unsettled Homeland of Dreams,” and other works.
He still serves in leadership roles at several tribal colleges.
— kenne
Two Pigeons On A Street Light — Image by kenne
Pigeon
Ken Livingstone has got religion,
a private war against the pigeon
Although these wildfowl love to coo,
Trafalgar Square’s their Waterloo;
regarding them as rats with wings
he’s put on all of them a jinx.
While Nelson watches, one eye blind,
the birds that Kenneth has maligned
are banished, order of the Mayor,
though many think this is unfair.
The people aren’t allowed to feed
the creatures of the pigeon creed,
nor let them sit on British lions
as if they were all friends of Zion’s,
whom he regards with great revulsion,
deserving fully of expulsion.
Each one is an imperial pawn
he scoffs at with his social scorn.
This makes me want to hiss like Alger,
transported, trance-like, to Trafalgar.
Ken wages war against bird lime,
self-styled Napoleon of crime;
Macavity would be far better
as his accomplice and abettor.
— gershon hepner
Man In Boat Window — Photo-Artistry by kenne
1492
Thou two-faced year, Mother of Change and Fate,
Didst weep when Spain cast forth with flaming sword,
The children of the prophets of the Lord,
Prince, priest, and people, spurned by zealot hate.
Hounded from sea to sea, from state to state,
The West refused them, and the East abhorred.
No anchorage the known world could afford,
Close-locked was every port, barred every gate.
Then smiling, thou unveil’dst, O two-faced year,
A virgin world where doors of sunset part,
Saying, “Ho, all who weary, enter here!
There falls each ancient barrier that the art
Of race or creed or rank devised, to rear
Grim bulwarked hatred between heart and heart!”
— Emma Lazarus
