Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Tag

December Is Here — Desert Sunset   3 comments

Tucson sunset (1 of 1)-4-72-2December Desert Sunset (Tucson Basin) — Image by kenne

How did it get so late so soon?

Its night before its afternoon.

December is here before its June.

My goodness how the time has flewn.

How did it get so late so soon?

— Dr. Seuss

Soria In The Blue Mountains   Leave a comment

Richardson's geranium (1 of 1) art-Edit-3-Edit-2-1-72.jpgAbstract Art by kenne

Soria, in blue mountains,
on the fields of violet,
how often I’ve dreamed of you
on the plain of flowers,
where the Guadalquiviŕ runs
past golden orange-trees
to the sea.

— Antonio Machado

Posted December 2, 2019 by kenneturner in Abstract Art, Information, Poetry

Tagged with , ,

Western Horse Corral   Leave a comment

Monument Valley-3517-3-art-72.jpgWestern Horse Corral (Navajo Nation)– Photo-Artistry by kenne

“The past determines what our present is or our future will be.
I don’t think there is really a separation of the three.”

— Luci Tapahonso

Oceanside — Art On The Beach   1 comment

Thanksgiving 2012 OceansideOceanside — Art On The Beach — Photo-Artistry by kenne

Some people surf the waves

Some people lay in the sun

Some people build sandcastles

Some people do their own thing

I hope some people do . . .

— kenne

 

The Captain’s Daughter   2 comments

Isla del Sol-72.jpgCaptain’s Daughter — Images by kenne

The captain of the boat that took us from Copacabana on Lake Titicaca
to the Isla del Sol had his daughter with him who was his little helper.
She was so cute with her matching colors against the lake and the clouds.

Isla del Sol-2-72.jpg

* * * * *
“As long as one and one is two
There could never be a father
Who loved his daughter more than I love you
Trust your intuition
It’s just like going fishing
You cast your line
And hope you’ll get a bite”

— from “Father and Daughter” by Paul Simon

 

Lake Titicaca Sunset   Leave a comment

Lake Titicaca Sunset-3-Edit-4-art-72Lake Titicaca Sunset — Photo-Artistry by kenne

Solar 

Suspended lion face
Spilling at the centre
Of an unfurnished sky
How still you stand,
And how unaided
Single stalkless flower
You pour unrecompensed.

The eye sees you
Simplified by distance
Into an origin,
Your petalled head of flames
Continuously exploding.
Heat is the echo of your
Gold.

Coined there among
Lonely horizontals
You exist openly.
Our needs hourly
Climb and return like angels.
Unclosing like a hand,
You give for ever.

— Philip Larkin

A Time Capsule   1 comment

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Kenne D. and Kenne G. 

Shakespeare’s Sonnet 3: ‘Look in thy glass’

Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewest
Now is the time that face should form another;
Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest,
Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother.
For where is she so fair whose uneared womb
Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?
Or who is he so fond will be the tomb
Of his self-love, to stop posterity?
Thou art thy mother’s glass and she in thee
Calls back the lovely April of her prime;
So thou through windows of thine age shalt see,
Despite of wrinkles, this thy golden time.
But if thou live, remembered not to be,
Die single and thine image dies with thee.

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