Stephen Evans

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Stephen is a playwright and author of The Marriage of True Minds and A Transcendental Journey. http://www.amazon.com/Transcendental-Journey-Stephen-Evans-ebook/dp/B00IHPLCB6

First Song

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To that which moves, to that which moves, 

        Which penetrates the universal shine

        And shimmy, Roundabout, where other isn’t

Within, without, non-centric circle thing,

      All light that which in most the light begins

      Nor knows, nor can, who descant;

Because in drawing near to what is dear

      Our swallowy mind perspires and jealous folds

      Into itself where memory cannot go.

Truly whatever the realm holistic

     Powerful treasures, body and mind,

    Mind of which I thee sing.

Apollo, creed of the living

    Vessel me in thy talented power

     Bower of joy and sound!

One sum, it adds up to nought,

    For me for you for both

    Swim to the center and cry.

If you can imagine, you, and breathe

     In deepest drawing scent

    While I watch in awe and innocence.

Ten cents a dance, the best

  That I can do, shadow of the realm

  Stamped in my brain, blessed, so what.

Once there was a tree and a crown

  Underneath it all and nevertheless leaves,

  Which shall you choose, O!

So seldom, Father, so seldom, do we,

  But we try, we have to try and

  of human inspiration can we?

So back to the leaves and so forth,

  They fall all over the crown,

  Where is it I say? I say

But no one answers. Maybe better voices,

  better voices after me, after me.

  Alleluia. Please respond!

 

Recent comment in this post
Rosy Cole
This is almost like a memory of birth, reviving those sensations, but translated in imagistic terms. To me, it speaks of a longing... Read More
Sunday, 12 November 2017 16:04
103 Hits
1 Comment

Evening Walk

The slant of light gives all a clarity.

Emerald silhouetted leaves quake

against the lustered sky as folded  

wings congregate in glimmered shelters,

light and shadow tangled in the branches.

 

The path curves, and we, dimmer now,

and chill, stepping closer, hand, hand,

turn for shelter and repose,

but somewhere further on we see

shivered light spill redolent evergreen.

Recent Comments
Stephen Evans
This bench is where my father and I would sit, resting for the turn home.
Thursday, 26 October 2017 15:34
Ken Hartke
I love this description -- sometimes we have to stop to take it all in.
Wednesday, 01 November 2017 15:27
Stephen Evans
Thanks Ken! I agree.
Thursday, 02 November 2017 13:39
153 Hits
3 Comments

Down with Moonlight: A One-Minute Play

At Rise: Kay and Zed are sitting in the moonlight.

Kay:      I love you madly.

                (Long pause)

Zed:      Is there another way?

Kay:      You don’t understand.

Zed:      You.

Kay:      What?

Zed:      You.

Kay:      What?

Zed:      I don’t understand you. I understand a lot of things. Just not you.

Kay:      Like what?

Zed:      Double entry accounting.

Kay:      Ah.

Zed:      Quantum mechanics.

Kay:      Oh.

Zed:      The mind of God.

Kay:      But not me.

Zed:      No.

Kay:      Why?

Zed:      You love me madly.

Kay:      Is there another way?

Zed:      Exactly.

Kay:      No. I’m asking.

Zed:      It’s a good question.

                (Pause)

Kay       Down with moonlight.

                (Long pause)

Zed   Where else would it go?

 

 

Copyright

© Copyright © Stephen Evans 2017 All Rights Reserved

Recent Comments
Rosy Cole
There is a school of thought that says anyone discerning a relationship between, for instance, K and Z, whose pathway they can rev... Read More
Thursday, 19 October 2017 15:49
Stephen Evans
The infinite-dimensional complex projective space P∞(C) is a model of K(Z,2). Just saying...
Thursday, 19 October 2017 17:06
Rosy Cole
'Course it is. I bet you calculated that when you were still in diapers, as you say over there, and we did before the Puritans lef... Read More
Thursday, 19 October 2017 22:48
153 Hits
3 Comments

Unwritten

"Ah you still ask me for that unwritten letter always due, it seems, always unwritten, from year to year, by me to you, dear Lidian, -- I fear too more widely than you mean, -- always due & unwritten by me to every sister & brother of the human race. I have only to say that I also bemoan myself daily for the same cause – that I cannot write this letter, that I have not stamina & constitution enough to mind the two functions of seraph and cherub, oh no, let me not use such great words, -- rather say that a photometer cannot be a stove. It must content you for the time, that I truly acknowledge a poverty of nature, & have really no proud defence at all to set up, but ill-health, puniness, and Stygian limitation. Is not the wife too always the complement of the man’s imperfections, and mainly of those half men the clerks? Besides am I not , O best Lidian, a most foolish affectionate goodman & papa, with a weak side toward apples & sugar and all domesticities, when I am once in Concord? Answer me that. Well I will come again shortly and behave the best I can Only I foresee plainly that the trick of solitariness never never can leave me."

From a letter by Ralph Waldo Emerson to his wife Lidian, written during his 1848 visit to Great Britain

Recent Comments
Rosy Cole
Ah, subtext, the mainspring of all good writing. This is quite a revelation, though I don't believe Emerson was insightful enough ... Read More
Saturday, 14 October 2017 16:26
Stephen Evans
Interesting reading! As you know, Emerson is part of my intellectual pantheon. I was struck by this letter, found it heart-breakin... Read More
Saturday, 14 October 2017 19:13
Stephen Evans
And that being said, I will certainly bow to your deeper understanding of early 19th century marriage conventions. ... Read More
Saturday, 14 October 2017 21:48
141 Hits
8 Comments

Latest Comments

Monika Schott A rickety bridge
18 November 2017
Thanks, Di.
Diane Rampertshammer A rickety bridge
17 November 2017
Pure poetry - very evocative - you are a painter with words..Di
Ken Hartke Lamenting the Lost Art of Conversation
12 November 2017
Thanks for the comments. Rosy -- I look at this sort of social conversation as a healthful thing for...
Rosy Cole First Song
12 November 2017
This is almost like a memory of birth, reviving those sensations, but translated in imagistic terms....
Rosy Cole Lamenting the Lost Art of Conversation
12 November 2017
Oh Ken, how rare that is! A gift. What a lovely sojourn in the byways and an unexpected exchange of ...

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