Eve’s Check-In: Viva la Nature!

Hullo everyone!

How are you doing?

It’s been a busy couple of months for me, what with finishing my degree and moving back home. I’m in the process of applying for my Masters – fingers, thumbs and toes crossed for that!

Here’s a small collection my photography from my back garden in black and white (my favourite) for you to enjoy. I’m still learning, but that’s all part of the fun! Kudos and love to my mother who makes the flowers look as wonderful as they do. (Plus a couple of doggy pics  – aren’t they handsome?)

The top image has words from a recent favourite poem of mine: “Inversnaid” by Gerard Manley Hopkins. The poem details much the way I empathise with nature, and how sometimes, for better or worse, us humans intervene. It really is beautiful, so I urge you to take a peek.

Try reading it aloud in your best Scottish accent, I do! It’s great fun; plus it’s helped me memorise it.

For the poem see here: Inversnaid

For more on Hopkins see here: The Poet

Take care, with love,

Eve x

How does nature make you feel?

The Evergreen

Unbroken road hast led me sagely warm, trails led east to feast upon the chill sweetmeat of me, Thou shall not tender foist mine hand awry, t’were it not, no less, for newness.
        In mind of stony sojourn stippling wings; and what sweeps soft-smooth to the burrowed and Hollowed, O moribund death! doth winter chill, and yielding thee, under ring’d crow-blanched land, Thou not lose sight as the vixen chancing, as far horizons bend little glance, a dance of pivot, of joy.
        Trees, said yew, and oak that falls on hard knees, timely wills are broken, down to old bees That teem with gold to catch a falling star; and in seek of dancing tongues compass far, beyond, Before and done, and death become thee.
O evergreen! thine lovely shrills and plucks of earth, to prove and coddle bluer luck; go, go and
        Catch (your star), what is left of glowing wood.


© Eve Redwater 2012
[Nearly forgot the link! – Posted for Dversepoets Open Link Night 50]


Lavender, plum, where the apples yet sweet,
         and the rumble of cares long lost to the ears,
the earth, and all that was in the merry and the piebald
frost-bitten stripes of corn to the morning dew,
thrice and yet warmed to the sun’s shiveringly
quiveringly lovely gold dapple drunken harmony
         and there, where the stores of flowers
like the rugged memories,
the guttering of trees,
coppices, and natures’ bound to green, to grow
unselfish, to hew, we hew,
         we know no better.

© Eve Redwater 2012

This poor chap was hanging on to this lavender as the wind blew – bless! © Eve Redwater 2012

Buzzard and Two Crows

What road goes ever on and on, in reverend panoply? –
      Of hummerhorns and battle-born shimmering the sky-shiv,
      Blest be those, a paladin, the greener things that simmer
Patina, or perfects left to glimmer in the canopy,

Belabouring the sunlight, the bleak corrode of day,
      The sweetest sour of lips to glide, a boast of bigger wind –
      And in the ring, the rung, the wither beat and bear
Of falling wings comes bitter black, the two italic fray,

What unheard in nature, the buckle of a minion,
      Overhead the hoverings, the smothering and thinner
      Dives become but level dance, a most insipid thing –
But clogs of clouds, O bevelling! Their creation of a pinion,

      And ring’d wroth upon goldén foe they winter,
      Furbished with a glaring, a potted chomp on rudders tail,
Posthumous as the gilded-sting of goldenrod and burr,
Gashed in blueish audience, two bottle’d necks that linger.

© Eve Redwater 2012


[In this poem, I wanted to express my seeing of two crows fending off a buzzard. This happened to me in the local park the other day – the sun was shining, it was a special sight to see! The “goldén” has an accented “e”, which indicates a stressed emphasis when read out loud – I hope you enjoy!]


Upon this glory moulded gilded gold and morning
         Fell obscure to seams behold, the flutter-blood of earth upturned
         The yellow folds, twas kingdom sworn – finer picking, pluck it yearned,
Dawned, upon what love to tell, the finer song in lovage yawning,
I swore, by song in swelled out throttle chords, to mouth, oh spring! –
         Under thimbled tips your swift unsingly, your greener, large rudder wings
         The palest gourd: as fend-off-falcon-gentle swings sweet to the little things,
blow, and wind be fearless upon thy single shin:

You turn, a sibyl songstress the amberest pluck, nihtegales’ wold,
         And be not a tempered thing, shadowed over gleaming sight
         Beauty in the marksman gully thy paints upon mine height,
The slender, supple, oh, wonder flutter of a neck in reddish gold –

Majesty of one that does not contend, nor bend the will of vixens’ den,
         A prairie-borne of one who knowest the better sough
         Unknown to thee bee-catcher wings form finger grins below the bough –
Thy comrade nature, be a beating plume, an eye for eye o’er gloaming glen.

© Eve Redwater 2012


[I’ve written this for DVersepoets Form for All, where we’ve been tasked of writing in the style of Gerard Manley Hopkins and his beautiful “sprung rhythm” poetry. I wanted to capture the flight of a Mandarin duck over a field with this poem. I’m a big fan of Hopkins, so this was a joy to write!]

Hive to Water

In the honeycombed, boney-silence,
where projections of flowers
under the guise of a bees bell of leggy amrita
the huddle and bury of laughter before
strands of milkwood buries within the thistle
the things we have never yet determined from glimpses
lost to the dark;
and if, by some wishbone happening,
should it fall to the river,
its many conflations, in silica, in bees,
born to love against the sage flurry in a fuzz,
you would hear, among the ages of ferns,
the thousand thick hum –
the bodies contained within
the jelly-thick flutings of the brooding hive,
the ‘we’re oh so ready and done for the year‘.

© Eve Redwater 2012


[It’s taken a while to feel up to writing creatively again, but it’s great to be back! Here’s my contribution to DVersepoets Open Link Night – week 44. Hope you like it~]

Eve’s Check-in: An Instagram Addict is Born!

Hello everyone!

So, the deadline for my dissertation is fast approaching. I know that my posts have been few this month, but it’s been a super busy one so I hope you all forgive me!

I’m making sure to read everyone’s posts as they come, but bear with me, I’m a little slower than usual at the moment!

I’ve recently discovered Instagram, I know, I’m slow, right? 😛 But as a small token of my thanks for your all your thoughts, comments, and ongoing support, I’d like to offer you some photographs that I’ve taken over the course of a few months/years.

Some are fairly recent, like the ones in the Peak District, Sheffield, and others are from my time in Kyoto, Japan 2011. I’ve even thrown in a pic of my doggie, Jodie; isn’t she a little cutie?

© Eve Redwater 2011-2012

That’s it for this months check-in! I hope you enjoyed, and that you’re all well! Thank you once again for following, commenting, and being as lovely as you all are.

Until next time~

With love,

Eve xxx

[If you would like to follow me on Instagram, I’m simply known as everedwater – lets link up!]

Man, Rain, Everything

For those who remain stood
With the slope of their back
To a creamblooded wave,

The pickforks and toothpicks
To the feet and the toes,
Observant as they needle

The maws of scarlet crabs,
And to the right, in the firm
Of an April frost

Comes a snuff of italic rain,
A blackwhite chipped grey
To the nose of a dog yet swift,

The batter of purple-bruised berries
Under a calamity of wet,
They learn to do rhythm

In the mouth with a caracal pinch,
Unravelling soured pieces
A calla flower bursts in the throat,

Stops, then blooms on the crest
Of your limbic rose tongue,
Stopped, before the vaccine words

Blew short an incognito, ochreous dandelion,
She who tips her lost children to the wind
Against flat-palmed duns in the tide,

And you, this day,
Black shoes beached
Through a tumult of sand,

Imprinted on the mould
Of a sugar tipped hill,
The water, air, a flurry of green-cud grass,

A pale of flowers to the ears,
Poor motes sot wild in the breast,
So many of us, together.

© Eve Redwater 2012

[It’s been raining all day today, I love it! It helped me write this for Dverse~]

Ariadne’s Child

Where the birch meets water,
lost in the mouths of lilied frogs
beyond and involved, evolved with the foxgloves,
purple of the edible pansy blooms;
the breadth of a bee sting, slowsoft in butter colour
as it spreads;
take care and be well
whisper down to the lambkid, she says:

down there, bygone by buttress and marigolds,
swiftsure and buried in the browns of soil,
out there, take the tail of a queen and walk forever,
downward where a willow meets pine.

© Eve Redwater 2012

[This photograph was taken on a lovely sunny day a couple of weeks ago in my local park. A day or so later, it snowed!]

Cutpurse Flight

Each in bird a hive to grow,
to tell of quiets lest profound,
to make the bee-buzz brim,
waft-like swoon of beak to bulb, a brief repast,
in ground, inside; an inescapable palette
even as the white bloom of flies
in saffron beds, be bold be, of the bee
                                             dear bird,
you swivel, darling, there above the yew;
in a field that swells with the burst of grain,
dipped and then green after a week of un-taste.
                    We bow,
                                we bow,
                                             below we bow –
blest be you for cutpurse flight.

© Eve Redwater 2012

[Posted for DVersepoets “Poetics: New view for you”, where we were tasked to write a poem from a pool of beautiful photographs by Tracey Grumbach. I hope you enjoy my contribution today!]