First bite

Self portrait by Graeme Evans







Do you feel it…
sometimes…
an insatiable striving for knowledge?
Do you crave it, because
Knowledge is achievement.
Knowledge is position,
Knowledge is power?

I know I want it.

So I have to ask…
When Adam and his first mate took that one (small) bite of
the fruit of the Knowledge tree,
was it sinfully delicious, and dripping
with the juice of ‘knowing’?

Was that first nibble what started it all?

‘Cause it seems we spend so much of ourselves
in this obsession with understanding,
researching small nuances on every possible subject.
In our information age, our research culture…
the possibilities are virtually endless.

So we log on,

…and surf away…


Lesley-Anne Evans
July 2009

31 Flavours

Do you ever really know where you stand with a women?

Tempting hues of bosom buddies and best friends forever are shadowed
by thoughts of becoming next week’s awkward acquaintance.
How uniquely feminine that friends can be chosen like flavours of ice cream;
Sweet, but too rich for my taste; A little tart; Too chunky;
Plain vanilla’s my favourite, but perhaps a tad expected, uneventful?

Ah yes -- now we are friends for life,
or at least until a better offer comes along.

Why is it so hard to get past superficial infatuations,
work through sticky messes and stay,
for the long haul?

Are your young emotions caught up in the evolution
of your relationships like mine are?
I try not to watch from the parking lot.
Slights and alliances and gossip and groupies… imagined or real?

My concerns may be so much baggage on your tender shoulders --
echoes of my past an unsolicited prophecy of pain.

Lesley-Anne Evans
September 2009

Returns

I want to draw your attention to this lovely photograph 'Backstage', by my friend Lisa Mabey. She's a very talented, beautiful and humble woman whom I had the delight to meet when our daughters played soccer together last year. It's my absolute honour to begin posting some of Lisa's photography in concert with my poems, and hope that you will visit her blog 'Breath' to view more of her glorious work.

Lesley-Anne







Returns

It could be pure coincidence
that on the afternoon you come back there is a storm brewing.
I feel the heat of August sun withdraw behind clouds
moving in fast from the west.
I see pampas grass bend low to accommodate the breeze.
I hear the porch chimes call out, "storm warning"
as my head unpacks memories.

You are unpacking cardboard boxes
and maybe expectations of a renewal, or at the very least,
a new start, just up the road.
So it could be an aligning of circumstances --
the weather, you, and my dramatic tendencies
to sense something more than a change in the wind.

Still, there’s something emerging within me --
resolve like an Oak tree, deep rooted, watered in,
able to withstand storms.

Lesley-Anne Evans
August 2009

Away

Some days
if the truth were told
that is, if I were speaking it aloud
I’d say I want to run away
opposite direction to anywhere you or they are.
To a pine box even, or to float, lifeless,
in cold silent fathoms.

My mind screams
shut up shut up shut up
to incessant words, arguments, bickering.

I settle for an angry walk, wet faced in
pissing down rain.
Until mercy comes with full mouth kisses,
turns my heart home.

Lesley-Anne Evans
July 2009

Leg Hold

He kicks the ruler once, hard
It skids across the linoleum and
connects with Connor's foot
Resentment stuffed deep
fists shoved in pockets
he shoulder slams Connor
into a locker door
then shuffles his untied DC's
on past him to Room 105

It is only 9:15

Walls and expectations
might hold him
'til 3

Lesley-Anne Evans
07/03/08

You might like me

I long to share things with you
thoughts, feelings, my heart
Yet you choose to talk about the weather
and the son of a long forgotten friend

I’m part of you
I came out of you
Yet you deny the part of me
that I want to give back to you

So, I share in the superficial
join the chatter and fill the dead air
with lifeless words
inside me is me
unspoken, unrealized, unknown

I retreat to my room to my
pen and paper expose,
And wait for the airport farewell
my crocodile tears
the prolonged goodbye
to a cardboard cutout of someone
I want to know better
who smiled and said,
“not today thank you.”


Lesley-Anne Evans, Sept. 2007

Gulls 2

Gulls 2
by Lesley-Anne Evans, Jan. 2008

Gulls are drifting inland on updrafts from the sea.
Wantonly weightless they float overhead,
calling boldly to me of flight and freedom.

Creature of the middle earth I stand in salt spray, toes
sink in wet sand, thoughts sink deeper.
I lift my face skyward, and consider their foreign tongue.

Then, rusty hinges on the screen door and
you call me from the cottage…
warm voice carried on the wind.

I turn,

my heart welcoming the parameters
of love and life.