Mt. Lemmon Mushroom — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Poetry is one of the ancient arts,
and it began as did all the fine arts,
within the original wilderness of the earth.
— Mary Oliver
Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Tag
Mt. Lemmon Mushroom 1 comment
Street Festival 1 comment
Street Festival –Image by kenne
The festival was always a place of unrestrained joy. The costumes lit up the summer’s day,
a riot of colour to rival any gardener’s paradise. Music filled the air,
festive beats lifted the spirits and made the people want to move, jump and sing.
It was a time to celebrate being alive, celebrate the wonders of creation
and be one with the community. The air tasted so heavenly with the chefs alongside
the parade, every delicious thing ready to be shared with friends.
— Angela Abraham
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Take Heart Leave a comment
Return of the Desert Mountain — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Sun dried jerky of your past
Lies heavy on the stomach-heart
Grumbles, protests, lingers
Long, long after cactus
Arid faith
Uprooted by a desert mountain
Cloudburst flood
Has withered, blunted tines
No longer barbed
While jerky past still grumbles
Lies heavy on the stomach heart.
Lie still and watch
Lantern sun swings overhead
This banner day
Sliver moon salutes from darkened sky
Take heart. Take heart. Take heart.
Move the grumble upward to a song
To tines’ decay
Take heart take heart take heart
While dormant hidden succulents
Await return of desert mountain
Cloud burst flood
And full moon rises.
— From Poems of the New Old West by Jack Purcell,
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Cactus Blossoms — Photo-Artistry Leave a comment
Cactus Blossoms — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Seeing an object
Increasing the light
Darkening the background
Changing the color
Distorting the shape
Adjusting the ratio
Introducing a bias
Creating a perception
Making a judgment
Forming a reality
Sharing the existence
Becoming an illusion
— kenne
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There Are Times . . . 3 comments
Photo-Artistry by kenne
There are times
I’m not a female,
But there are times
I wish I weren’t male
I’m not a black,
But there are times
I wish I weren’t a white
I’m not immortal,
But there are times
I wish I weren’t mortal
I’m not a doubter,
But there are times
I wish I weren’t a believer
I’m not a conservative,
But there are times
I wish I weren’t a liberal
I’m not a saint,
But there are times
I wish I weren’t sinful
I’m not ignorant,
But there are times
I wish I weren’t learned
I’m not implicit
But there are times
I wish I weren’t explicit
I’m not an Islamic,
But there are times
I wish I weren’t a Christian
I’m not an animal,
But there are times
I wish I weren’t a human
I’m not in
But there are times
I wish I weren’t out
I’m not lonely
But there are times
I wish I weren’t the opposite
I’m not you
But there are times
I wish I weren’t me
… Still, there are times
I am the opposite
Of the opposite of me
— kenne
Don’t confuse my personality with my attitude.
My personality is who I am.
My attitude depends on who you are.
–Frank Ocean
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Sandpipers 1 comment
Sandpipers — Image by kenne
Sandpipers
Sandland where the salt water kills the sweet potatoes.
Homes for sandpipers-the script of their feet is on the sea shingles —
they write in the morning,
it is gone at noon-they write at noon,
it is gone at night.
Pity the land, the sea,
the ten mile flats,
pity anything but the sandpiper’s wire legs and feet.
Homes for sandpipers-the script of their feet is on the sea shingles —
they write in the morning,
it is gone at noon-they write at noon,
it is gone at night.
Pity the land, the sea,
the ten mile flats,
pity anything but the sandpiper’s wire legs and feet.
— Carl Sandburg
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Fostering the Creation of An Illusion Leave a comment
Rose Canyon Lake In The Santa Catalina Mountains — Image by kenne
Hiking, watching each step
yet it is possible to look at
various distances engaging
my attention on many points
occurring in space around me.
Living in time passing,
it is easy to contemplate
past times with the present
state to retain its peace —
having combined the moment
with the past, thus fostering
the creation of an illusion
as if some future place and time.
— kenne
