A companion to THE WORD OF SINNA LUVVA blog. An Outlet for new poems, drafts of poems and even rediscovered or reworked ones! For more poetry by Malcolm Evison see the Related Sites listing.

Monday, December 16, 2019

Squirrel in the Rain - repost

       
Having watched the acrobatic antics of a squirrel,  in various parts of our garden, this morning, I thought it was maybe time to repost this poem!


Squirrel InThe Rain



He perches, in sparkling eyed contemplation
of the goal. Like some celebrated stylite,
he squats on his post, oblivious
to the hostile elements. My stare

intrudes upon his gaze; defiance
resonates across the intervening space. And then
the sudden leap,
a precarious landing on the ridge; teeth bared

he nuzzles the meshwork tower,
seeking nutrition.

Losing his grip,
he hastily takes flight, back
to the stepping stone beam -
the garden fence’s parapet.

A sudden sure footed spring onto the post;
I stare at him, he glowers back at me,
brush-tail twitching. I sense
a mood of defiance; he leaps once more
to the bird tables roof.

A turbulent manoeuvre finds
a covered plateau. A sense
of instability
takes charge. He beats
a hasty retreat.

Post squatted,
he focusses once more.
He steels himself,
then springs.

The glistening plastic proves
more than a match; he takes
a floundering fall
into the sodden undergrowth.

Bedraggled, he climbs the austere fence,
tail discomfortedly curled,
shakes vigorously. The watery beads
propel themselves from body into air.

Straight tailed, disconsolate,
he beats retreat
along the wooden parapet.                 

                                   

                                      Malcolm Evison
                                      22 May 2006 


             

Wednesday, November 13, 2019

Two Poems dis-interred as a result of the High Court trampling on (the same) workers rights

Today the High Court found an excuse to prevent the CWU from taking strike action in spite of the ballot receiving 97% support for their action! 

The two poems below date from October 2017 when the Tory High Court previously ruled against these workers rights.




Tuesday, August 20, 2019

Closing The Deal



I just stumbled upon some scribbled random lines & words I'd hastily drafted in March 2017 and elsewhere a few scribbled random lines from April 2017. This afternoon I played around with the two separate entities before realising that they really belonged together, hence the following:
.



Closing The Deal


once having flown
too close to a werewolf moon
he struggled to provide

a blueprint for his own
corrupted furrow –
his joy

was rarely ever real –
but cynicism
worn as self-defence

though jocular
was more
like the true deal-

he dreamt of heroes
but all too soon became
a doleful clown



Malcolm Evison
-         20 August 2019










Wednesday, July 24, 2019

The Candle (one poem - two versions)


Although most of the drafts for these two versions of the same poem were written in January 1991 (during phase two of the First Gulf War), subsequently modified in 2005, I am still unable to decide which is the final version. Each version has its merits and no doubt their flaws too.

THE CANDLE (Version I)

Waiting to break
this happy equilibrium
the flames shaft

laps the glowing air.
Today the bombs
fall on Baghdad –

I watch the candle burn.
A patterned globe
of wax emits

a subtle fragrance –
no flesh is burning
here in my room.

Is this the flame
that purifies –
surgically pue?

An opening of the door –
a minor turbulence,
the flame now licks

the candles side.
The meltdown of the globe
begins so casually.


Malcolm Evison

*************************

THE CANDLE (Version II)

A patterned globe
of wax emits
a subtle fragrance.

The flames shaft
laps the glowing air
waiting to break

this happy equilibrium.
Is this the flame
that purifies

whilst commentators whine

of surgical strikes.
Open the door, create
a minor turbulence –

the flame now licks
the candles side –
the meltdown of the globe

began precisely
with the strike
of that first match.

Today the bombs
rain down; a patterned globe
emits the stench

of burning flesh.

          

   Malcolm Evison

Monday, July 01, 2019

Continue-uMM


                        
              Continue-uMM (second draft)


                               time alone knows
what it is
it passages through life

but as for all the rest -
quite unaware
of what makes it tick

we struggle on -
but are we fixed
in an imaginary

continuum


                              Malcolm Evison
@ what I choose to call
30 June 2019 / 01 July 2019

Sunday, April 07, 2019

On The Road To The Isles - repost




ON THE ROAD TO THE ISLES

Numbed by this alien terrain,
where truth spells a montony
of rain, we ride entombed

towards our Shangri-La.

Each fresh horizon
taunts the tired eye,
echoes the fretful sense

of hours gone by.

A weariness pervades
this no-man's land.

*****

Go West young man!
We make our final fling -

turning to be embraced
by fire. The mist resorbed,
light's pan-theophany

revives a blighted mind.

Rainbows and thunderfall engrave
their echoes on the boundary
of our wonderment, refresh

a dormant sense.
The sky line seethes -
sun sanctified.

*****

White, searing, the unseen sun
burns from the core
of mountains, transforms

a shroud of haze
into a panoply of light.
Rocks swallowed by, still seize

upon this shimmering -
a spectral residue
of more torrential times.



Malcolm Evison



Saturday, March 30, 2019

Magic & High Court ruling

I've just unearthed this (poetic tirade) amongst a pile of rough drafts - I still rage against the same governing party .....



Listening to Archie Shepp 'The Magic of Ju-Ju'
( a response after hearing news of Tory High Court clampdown
on CWU right to strike}


the rage and fury bursts
straight through my anger
diverts my impotent rage
grants a directional force

the struggle continues
as more is stolen
from the poorest
their power and pride

screams out





malcolm evison
12 October 2017

My draft poem’Towards an Autocratic State was also a response to the same court ruling:

Wednesday, March 20, 2019

Lines whilst listening to "New Thing at Newport" (1965



Lines whilst listening to “New Thing at Newport” (1965)
[Draft 4]

the reeds stray
from strident to mellifluous  
Soaring and flailing through the air
dance and sing their way
                           
                        around and over percussive beats
release me from despondency
assure me that at least
                         I can still feel


                           Malcolm Evison
                            27 March 2018

Sunday, February 24, 2019

not waiting but sounding



We don’t wait, we wonder
if now is the time
for songs to flow –
strive to illuminate
the process of the mind.

We don’t write, we struggle
with unresolved dilemmas
from a troubled time.
Snatching the fevered line
out of a verbal stream.

We capture sprats from our
sense saturated scheme
of things, our thoughts
inscribed by rumours
of some impenetrable theme.

Our words may seldom praise, although
their aim is affirmation –
our images may never raise
the hopes of those who know
and share our fears.

Often we take the bait
our tamed imagination feeds us –
swallowing dreams, regurgitating
woes. We seldom wait, we wander

out into the unknown.


                       Malcolm Evison

MUSINGS


MUSINGS

Be more precise, sustain
these frequent lapses into sanity –
pronounce your arguments
with pure audacity. Explain

the cause of your temerity,
Bring me a fantasy which bares
a greater quotient of reality.

I yield, although I should not,
You wield
the greater power, but would not

always share. Tear me
away from light, remind me
of that lurking fear

of demons in the night.



Malcolm Evison

Tuesday, February 19, 2019

Mounds Mystery



Mounds Mystery




Each tussock casts a spell
It holds the hound in thrall
To some deep primitive allure


His nostrils flare
Then slap the fragranced air
As they snap back


Swallow the scent
Of other marking creatures
Or maybe deeper still


Beneath the tufted mound
Some timid smaller prey
Seeks sanctuary




Malcolm Evison
13 – 18 February 2019