Joy In Sunglasses — Photo-Artistry by kenne
The sun fades away
but leave reflections
invading my thoughts.
A miniature heart
blossoms on her lips.
— kenne
Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Tag
Joy In Sunglasses 3 comments
Museum Staircase 1 comment
Museum Staircase — Photo-Artistry Image of L.A. by kenne
The city is named for the angels,
And its angels are easy to find.
They give off a lubricant odor,
Their eyes are mascara-lined;
At night you can see them inserting
Gold-plated diaphragms;
For breakfast, they gather at poolside
Where screenwriters feed and swim.
— from Hollywood by Bertolt Brecht
Share this:
Balance Stones Art Leave a comment
Balance Stones — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Hymn to Intellectual Beauty
The awful shadow of some unseen Power
Floats though unseen among us; visiting
This various world with as inconstant wing
As summer wind that creep from flower to flower;
Like moonbeams that behind some piny mountain shower,
It visits with inconstant glance
Each human heart and countenance;
Like hues and harmonies of evening,
Like clouds in starlight widely spread,
Like memory of music fled,
Like aught that for its grace may be
Dear, and yet dearer for its mystery.
— Percy Bysshe Shelley
Share this:
Time 2 comments
Time– Image by kenne
Left behind as the sun rushes toward a destiny,
time does not flow in a continuous stream
from past into future like the position of the sun
as we begin to feel foolish waiting for it to set.
The present moment is part of what’s about to happen,
“now” becoming a prologue to more things to come
giving us more room to stay in the moment
and your future, a past you remember.
— kenne
Share this:
Cattle In The Dusty West Leave a comment
Cattle In The Dusty West — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Once beautiful desert grassland,
Now destroyed by overgrazing
On land unable to sustain
The native desert environment
Draining the groundwater levels in a
World of “pay me now, or pay me later.”
— kenne
Share this:
Waiting for Monsoon Rains 4 comments
July Sunset — Images by kenne
No monsoon
rain
scorch earth
fire
mountain trails
closed
sheltering at home,
still.
— kenne
Share this:
Art Adds Or Takes Away Leave a comment
Prickly Pear Fruit — Photo-Artistry by kenne
In capturing the moment,
reality
is rephrased
making use of light and
angles between objects,
creating an illusion
of space and distance —
a new view of reality.
The new reality
brings with it
a rhythm,
and sound
resonating
with the soul –
hopefully,
with the viewer.
The image
becomes a model
of what is real —
what is real is
imagined –
the affirmation
of nature.
The artist adds,
or takes away —
still real,
but totally invented
and fully imagined –
the objectification
of feeling.
The new reality
is shaped
and nurtured
from the past,
erased and reinvented —
if the artist is lucky
the new image
will seem more real
and more true.
— kenne
Share this:
Wildflowers In The Meadow Leave a comment
Wildflowers In The Meadow (Mt. Lemmon) — Image by kenne
Wildflower Meadow, Medawisla
The many-
oared asters
are coracles;
the goldenrod
pods, triremes.
They do not
plan their
voyages
to please us.
The tangle
of brambles
and drupes shifts
only slightly
when the wind
attempts to
part the knee-
or waist-high stalks
and thorns. What will
you do or
be in that state
you fear and look
forward to,
when none of
them needs
us, after
the last
seeds leave?
Share this:
Messages On The Wall 2 comments
Street Art — Photo-Artistry by kenne
messages on the wall
what you read
may not be
what you see
messages left behind
by those having
something to say
in pictures or words
messages of anger
messages of love
messages to the world
never pointless
sometimes
I think
sometimes
I don’t
I got the words
I got the pictures
I got the messages
I got the blame
soon to be
torn down, or
painted over
by censors
tomorrow new thoughts
will create new messages
rescue me before I
fall into despair
— kenne
Share this:
Be patient toward all that is unsolved . . . 1 comment
Marine Blue, Mt. Lemmon (July 4, 2017) — Image by kenne
“Be patient toward all that
is unsolved in your heart
and try to love the questions themselves,
like locked rooms and like books that are
now written in a very foreign tongue.
Do not now seek the answers,
which cannot be given you because
you would not be able to live them.
And the point is, to live everything.
Live the questions now.
Perhaps you will then gradually,
without noticing it, live along
some distant day into the answer.”
— Rainer Maria Rilke
Share this:
Some Trees 1 comment
Aspen Loop On Mt. Lemmon (08/02/13) — Image by kenne
These are amazing: each
Joining a neighbor, as though speech
Were a still performance.
Arranging by chance
To meet as far this morning
From the world as agreeing
With it, you and I
Are suddenly what the trees try
To tell us we are:
That their merely being there
Means something; that soon
We may touch, love, explain.
And glad not to have invented
Such comeliness, we are surrounded:
A silence already filled with noises,
A canvas on which emerges
A chorus of smiles, a winter morning.
Placed in a puzzling light, and moving,
Our days put on such reticence
These accents seem their own defense.
— John Ashbery
“Written in 1948 when Ashbery was only 21 and a senior at Harvard College, this brief lyric has everything that his later, much longer, poems will advance. It is a love poem that never mentions love directly, but a feeling of being in love infuses the way the speaker sees, feels, and thinks about everything. It makes him feel both small and big, a tiny piece of a greater universe, but nonetheless connected to a world full of mystery and grandeur. A sense of the universe comes from gazing up at those huge trees from the ground while in love and remembering the immensity of that experience of feeling and thinking.” Source: Publishers Weekley
Share this:
Sheltered In Place Art 1 comment
Sheltered In Place Art — Photo-Artistry by kenne
one day in the future
I will start a writing
“Once upon a time in
COVID-19 America.”
I will write about
how the pandemic
without warning
changed how we live —
how we make use of time
more time reading poetry
more time writing poetry
more time listening to music.
less time to be with friends
hiking the mountain trails
less time traveling to
vacation with family.
the pandemic lingers on
a time of more and less
a time when nature reminds
us of the need to work together.
over the last three months
I take more still-life
and landscape photos more
of our home surroundings.
— kenne
Share this:
I, Too 3 comments
Lincoln, Alabama (Old Downtown Lincoln Station By The Railroad Tracks) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
When my brother and I were in elementary school
we lived with my grandparents in Lincoln, Alabama.
My grandparents had sold the farm and moved into town.
Grandfather bought a two-pump gas station out on the Highway.
All the years since the person I remember most was Dacey Bell.
She was a young black woman who would help take care of us.
We loved Dacey Bell, and she loved us, therefore making it difficult
For us to understand why she was not allowed to eat with us.
We would ask why, but never got a clear answer — it just was.
Then one day, Dacey Bell stopped coming to be with us.
Again we would ask why — “Where had Dacey Bell gone?”
We were told Detroit, she had gone to work in Detriot.
Years later when I first read Langston Hughes’s poem, “I Too,”
The line that stood out was, “They send me to eat in the kitchen.”
. . . again I thought of Dacey Bell
— kenne
I, Too, Sing America by Langston Hughes
I, too, sing America.
I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well, And grow strong.
Tomorrow, I’ll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody’ll dare Say to me,
“Eat in the kitchen,”
Then.
Besides,
They’ll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed–
I, too, am America.
Share this:
I Saw A Hummingbird As Big As The Sky 1 comment
Anna’s Hummingbird — Image by kenne
I saw a Peacock, with a fiery tail,
I saw a Blazing Comet, drop down hail,
I saw a Cloud, with Ivy circled round,
I saw a sturdy Oak, creep on the ground,
I saw a Ant swallow up a Whale,
I saw a raging Sea, brim full of Ale,
I saw a Venice Glass, Sixteen foot deep,
I saw a well, full of mens tears that weep,
I saw their eyes, all in a flame of fire,
I saw a House, as big as the Moon and higher,
I saw the Sun, even in the midst of night,
I saw the man, that saw this wondrous sight.
— Anonymous (400 Year-Old Nonsense Poem)
Share this:
Smoke And Haze In The Foothills 3 comments
Smoke and Haze In the Catalina Foothills — Photo-Artistry by kenne
We must make the most of life’s ups and down
when downs seem to overwhelm
do everything to lift up life through images
revealing its most brilliants.
— kenne
