John Gregory Evans © 2020, Boise, ID. The Beginning of Encounter My intimate personal story and experience born October 13th, 1954, only eleven short years after the horrific bombing of Hiroshima, Nagasaki, and the hidden tortures of the Holocaust. Little did I know between 1959-1960 I would be moving to a small German village near…
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…
Reading Rita Dove at Sunrise
Pacing, as a hummingbird spins her wings and tiny frame, not frantic, but gracefully as Paavo Oso and his art, staring impassive to his muse, what shall ruminating speak this time? Seven A.M. The canvas still clean. Once upon a time… he felt the lascivious rage within his rags, threads reaching to the sky…
Reading Rita Dove at Midnight
Life, never what it appears to be unless one is a poet. I think of you, as I dig deeply into your metaphors, and the communities of the marginalized, the early morning freeze, deadens my fingertips upon this black, icy laptop, frozen as if dead. Your words, alive with the perfume of truth. I learn…
Jeramiah
Jeramiah John Gregory Evans © 2020 Jeramiah, the fire within comets the skies of angels, and the interior realms where within – God resides. Monastery of the Angels, Greek Orthodox never loved so High. Like anthropology, I believe! Sixty miles out, the coolness of air, and of deep breaths, My unexpected and pleasing friend from…
THE GREAT ERA OF A RABID IDEATION – AND THE NEWNESS OF HOPE
Thoughts destroy, they kill at the sound of your voice Through your sacred quest for your true Lover, our Beloved - I search upon this journey of time, my passion is only for The keeper of my soul. Presence eludes me, tentatively…I journey far and wide Until I learn He is with me, waiting for…
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…
Boat & Yacht Lofting: A Learning Essay
Wednesday, September 16, 2020 4:28 AM In 1967 I embraced a dream (I was just 13), to design, loft, construct, and finish a small 27 foot sailboat constructed of wood and specified hardware; rigging, sails, chain-plates, etc. all the hardware. I built my first boat at 15 or 16 (brain fog setting in), but it…
Preferring Christ – The Rule of St Benedict & Divine Mercy Chaplet Heal the Heart & Soul Upon Dwelling in the Lord’s Tent
Preferring Christ - The Rule of St Benedict & Divine Mercy Chaplet Heal the Heart & Soul Upon Dwelling in the Lord's Tent Sunday, September 13, 2020 9:26 AM I have learned love with God and his people at the most intimate level. I feel touched, blessed, and holy upon such occurrences. Reading as the…
A Strong Woman’s Voice – My Mother
A Strong Woman - My Mother Saturday, September 12, 2020 10:11 AM Sun-up, golden veins of a vertical wall shines on to the terrace, tall. So, what is going on this early morn. A strong woman's voice tells all. This woman, my mother who cared for a family Of six, and dogs, and cats, Of…
Looking to the Light of the Interior Life
Nothing Whenever I feel lost in misery I aspire to turn my thoughts, feelings, sensitivities, frustrations, and anger towards myself, not to the external world (though at times it does creep in), to face my own demons. We all have them. But in the return of my own heart and soul I become much more…
John G Evans & Paavo Oso Arts 