Desolation

Beyond my darkest desolation I have cried a thousand tears. Music has not entered my heart for decades of not hearing each note and, through each teary-eyed moment I have known but one bliss. And, through this devastating loss I have suffered a magnanimous pain. And yet, this god of Mercy has rendered his divine…

This Risque Night: A Villanelle

Thus, engraved of form within my soul, my words do flow – I shall write from memory days recalled in the absence of soul where each encounter does render its toll. This Risqué Night: A Villanelle John G Evans © 2016 I’ve lived this dark and risqué night, befallen and stroked by this erotic burn…

Thoughts, Anyone?

Lost! Within my thoughts to write a poem never to return from the land of metaphor, or from the earth of the dead. Many thoughts have crossed over into the ancient storms of life where my best, thus perform in words and anecdotes, or from the seas of the dead. The emptiness of being eludes…

The Tiny Mustard Seed

So, where is home? Home is where the dust cries In a foreign land Where we shall come to know the bitterness of exile. And yet, where is this home? It is inside the mustard seed Where only the dying can see – If we are to poeticize these inkwells With an altruistic art, We…