Reading Rilke’s Book of Hours Upon Awakening During an Early Morning Freeze

Your poetry begets music, but only to the poor. The poor hear each note of hunger upon their wanderings; whether city, or fields, or highways off the desert roads, the poor shall always hear these tattered tunes laying threadbare, frayed at the heel of existence. Your Russian journeys lead you to God, unbeknownst, an intimate…

Reading Rita Dove’s Boccaccio: The Plague Years

Each day, each night, upon the southern island that reaches out to the Gulf of Mexico, the clapboard beach houses raise their tunes of flying fish, slapping hard upon the water’s edge. I was two, perhaps, younger. My memory slips into a time of a golden astonishment, white sand that stings as a round, translucent…

A Favorite Poem of Mine

I very fortunately had  my manuscript edited by a PhD Poetic Scholar named Annie Finch where we worked for several months exchanging thoughts, ideas, and the art of language into a small book of poetic compositions, poems I had discerned the writing hereof from experiences from a Bavarian experience, life in the military, and a…

A Heart with Many Rooms

From the heart remain many rooms                         As lightning fingers from God Singing different melodies                         For love unearned, I cannot explain, nor comprehend its depths, But as I feel, I know Of many hearts along the way                         A separate happiness each note shall play. Please, speak to the eyes            …

Silver Love Poured Tea

Silver Love Poured Tea by John Gregory Evans © 5/17/2020 3:12:52 AM Your smile, breathless, Ponderosa Pines harvested your voice, Kisses that shed an earthly attire, While Sleeper’s and Pullman’s steal the night, yet Silver love poured tea. The moon breathed deep tonight, Stars gathered Inebriated by the broken silence, Only the darkness smiled! Silver…

Walking Alone in ’81

Walking Alone in ‘81 by John Gregory Evans © 5/17/2020 2:53:22 AM How many rides, were you offered today? Met a stranger with a heart full of compassion? One I’d say, but, other than that It just ain’t happening! These foreign guests within an illusory homeland of hope? Was there one who lifted you in…

Blood Rain

Blood Rain by John Gregory Evans © 5/17/2020 1:58:19 AM Rhythmic seasons arrive by way of violent crimes from within the darkness, as we digest encounters with black and bloody sinuous renegades, of branch and vine. Tiny minnows and tad-poles thirst upon a solitary descent of a complacent pain, as dragonflies carve out their stellar…

Silence Prevailed!

Silence Prevailed by John Gregory Evans From: Vehemence: In Silence We Weep The bus driver knew. Harsh reality set in. Angered by brazen words from English speaking kids, insolent tongues sing of a lady in France. The German sun bit into the driver’s eyes. What did these kindred know of France? And the killing of…

A Ballad of Leo Tolstoy: War & Peace, Introduction

A Ballad of Leo Tolstoy War and Peace Introduction by John Gregory Evans © 5/13/2020 3:26:38 PM Stanza I To whom be known of Russia’s plight? Siberian snow’s wilderness, Decembrist’s Tolstoy’s wit does write, Natasha and kindheartedness playful and  lasciviousness – Gentry and peasant’s feelings grow A Mother Russia’s wispy tale, Keeps warm her nape…

Volume I ~ War & Peace: An Introduction to Brevity

Volume I Upon Reading Leo Tolstoy’s ‘War and Peace:’ An Introduction in Brevity ~ Volume I Upon Reading Leo Tolstoy’s ‘War and Peace:’ An Introduction in Brevity ~ 1852, diary notations, a historical account of 19th century Russia fueled the light of Leo Tolstoy, commanding as were his military demise, the Decembrist’s (Tolstoy’s own class),…