MAL's FACTORY - Poetry & Prose Poems

BRIGHT

2012-01-14T15:36:00.000Z

BRIGHT

blue sky

wisp streaked

with silver grey

the air is crisp -

the frost dressed lawn

crackles

beneath my feet

Malcolm Evison

14 January 2011

PROMISE

2011-10-10T21:31:00.001+01:00

PROMISE

and nightfall brings
the promise of release
from daily toil

the neon skyline
shimmeringly bathes
the arena of desire

in technicolour majesty

Malcolm Evison

a few nights ago - in the wee small hours - these lines emerged, shaped and reshaped themselves, as I lay in that hinterland between wakefulness and restlessness - I scribbled them down before trying to settle back to sleep and I've just rediscovered
the scribbled note

SHATTERED

2011-09-11T20:35:00.003+01:00

SHATTERED

he rails exhaustedly

against

the unrelenting night -

shattered

by restlessness

he groans

a welcome

to a new daybreak

prays that it's not

an uninvited dream -

still rails against

the unrelenting night

then collapses

into sleep

Malcolm Evison

10 September 2011

3.00am message to myself

2011-09-11T20:02:00.000+01:00

not quite reclaimed
and hopefully
not pre-ordained

I float
or rather limpingly
falter

into that 'outcast' realm
which was the youthful
privilege of choice

Malcolm Evison

Impromptu for Jack - A re-post for Fathers Day

2011-06-19T16:11:00.000+01:00

IMPROMPTU FOR JACK

Not so much a moment

but all time,

the steady refrain

that “God is good”.

What is this thing called good?

Through all the pain

and all the joys

the theme remains –

a constant strain –

“I’ll praise my maker,

God is good”. No statements here,

a simple claim

from some deep tautological mine

“God is good”.

And now he’s home

with Him he served

the joy remains –

not for a moment

but for all time.

The universe proclaims

that God is good!

Malcolm Evison

June 2001

written for / about my father who died on my birthday in June 2001

spaces of the free

2011-05-19T13:19:00.001+01:00

spaces of the free

enter the spaces of the free

like tied and structured

sheer fall of the well

break bonds of liberty

and set the foot rest

shackles free

from their deformity -

the first noel is my

last heaven

Christ strewn across the soot hills

of the sky

the merry chants

of fiery spirits

sing for him

a lullaby -

wrapped in the sealed ears

of the ploughed and ground down

beasts of dismay

wilting and cooling

in the sun drenched

frost parched

desert of the city

fearing the feeling

felt of former fun

and city streets full of sun-

flowers that sparkle

like daisies

in the cool thighs

of the girls

Malcolm Evison
(1967?)

Gethsemane & The Body Snatchers - Two More M.E. Related Poems

2011-04-04T19:54:00.002+01:00

The text of these two poems can be found as follows:

Gethsemane              http://www.sinnaluvva.com/page10.html

The Body Snatchers   http://webspace.webring.com/people/nl/luv4sinners/body.htm

Emerging & Restless Night - Two M.E. Related Poems

2011-04-04T19:50:00.003+01:00

The texts of these two poems have been posted as follows:

Emerging http://malsfactory.blogspot.com/2011/01/emerging.html

Restless Night http://malsfactory.blogspot.com/2011/02/restless-night.html

Poem to Secular Jesus - (the seminarian replies)

2011-02-27T17:03:00.002Z

a poem written in response to 'Seminarian', an earlier poem of mine, as a result of a request from Rev Dr John Vincent whilst I was spending a post-graduate year at the Urban Theology Unit in mid 1970's

Poem to Secular Jesus

Absurd redemption of humanity -

how can I write

or mouth a ritual creed

which brings to life

such crass stupidity.

This problemed world provides

no sanctuary. The Word

screams out for light; a sacrifice

of dreams and power -

a hapless Saviour snared

by well-intentioned tomes.

Bookloads of words

can never penetrate

reality -

the God-shaped question

yearns

for my reply. No theory

supplies the key

to one who shuns

inherited divinity.

No core of righteousness

resides within -

the journey outwards

is where truth begins.

Malcolm Evison

This work is licenced under a Creative Commons Licence

Restless Night

2011-02-01T20:31:00.000Z

Restless Night

frantic and static

collude

to break the spirit -

the chorussed scream

of roll and stretch

weaves counterpoint

against the searing ache

of stasis -

the chinese burn

of movement

resists

the planned escape

Malcolm Evison

30/01/11 – 01/02/11

EMERGING

2011-01-15T15:50:00.002Z

EMERGING

and this morning

still abed

my legs

are mercury laden

knitted lead

the arms

folded or stretched

scream out

for postures new

Malcolm Evison

15/01/11

Listening To Mahler [ A response in six movements]

2010-12-13T13:40:00.001Z

LISTENING TO MAHLER

[A Response in Six Movements]

Have I lost the need

to weep

the power and the beauty

the freedom and the fire

tremble through my body.

The beauty – the beauty

the beauty and the power

tremble through my mind –

heavy with joy I want

to weep –

drunk with longing I need

the tears to weep

at the tragic and majestic

power – the power and the beauty.

Beauty, power, tragedy and fear –

and I can’t weep.

Have I lost

the power to weep –

the beauty, such beauty and

such power.

relax

a little

gently, slowly, rest –

now waiting, urging on the day

grasping

each nuance as it comes.

Slowly burning

through the air –

my song

resounding in the sea

gently, lyrically

and then

I start to skip-a-long, to dance,

dance arminarm around the earth

and then start dreaming.

Lushly sliding, skipping and prancing

struck dumb

for a moment

succumb again

to the power,

the tragic happiness of knowing

of being and living

enslaved

by the melodies of life

free and captive to her whims.

Free and beautifully gliding

living and alive.

moving, singing

dancing and laughing

cutting sharply

all springtime and in love.

In love and diving

deeper diving – driving lower

then exalted / and softly degraded

and next I’m snarling

at my fears.

And violently into the present time

I’m tossed, active being

to and fro-ing as the cancer

spreads

and bursts

into a shower of crystal.

My ears hesitate behind

my eyes – my mind is dreaming –

and I am sharing your pain

and your pleasure

living within you, viewing wider

horizons

sharing my body and mind

with you; with all

born out of the grass and trees –

as each new thought becomes

a world, and each new world

is me.

the words of two minds

and a thousand ears, become

those of one world.

Words of belief, of faith and trust –

songs of the children

unborn and dying,

accepting their deaths

with dignity

living their lives

with pleasure and ease.

Delights of the dream arouse

their desires – a sombre pleasure

a woeful joy. The need for love

as strong as I need tears –

weaving the largest into the smallest

weaving past greatness

into the hearts of children.

And this laborious mission

has a goal of joy – your eyes are smiling

now

and in their reflection

I see my life.

Gloriously the birth and mirth

of Christ, who lived a hero – died a man.

The innocent know far more understanding

than the callous heart –

their voices echo and thunder

from a mountain stream into

a waterfall.

Cutting through the hills and trees

carving the tree

into the shape of man –

until the wood takes its revenge.

And in the days of youth,

which is our life – there comes a reckoning

the tingle and the bitter fruit

of age

still

we rejoice.

Body and mind alone can never make

a man –

as we walk

through the valley

of tranquil thoughts, the beauty

pressures us

to face the truth –

each step discovering

the jungle and the pit, each life day

drinking from the streams

pausing a while and kneeling down

to praise the men who made

us what we are –

and God who we created

gave us life, as it floats sweetly from

the wounded side

of Christ.

Casting aside the altars, so every man

woman and child

may wear the ring of wedlock

in their soul.

Calmly I retrace my steps

and see my faults,

back to the garden – sit down

in the fioelds and sigh for the sun.

throw wide your arms and thighs,

embrace the living – forget the dead

who readily received their joys,

who gave us life and pleasure.

I need to weep no more – I sit

just sit and listen

listen to the open spaces.

Malcolm Evison

ConDem(natory) Cycle

2010-11-07T10:42:00.001Z

ConDem(Natory) Cycle (Rough draft)

First we eliminate

all job security -

ensure

all contracts

can be terminated

on a whim.

Knowing

that work makes free

we guarantee

the long term unemployed

will do these jobs

unpaid

Malcolm Evison

Son et Lumiere

2010-09-24T21:20:00.000+01:00

SON ET LUMIERE

the orchestration was
truly awesome
the acoustic reverberant

a dynamic sostenuto
from the bass section
held me in thrall

until
a random glimpse
of light

through an uncurtained window
played prelude to
a further atmospheric roar -

the sound immediately
responded
to the lightning flash

Malcolm Evison
24 September 2010

Old Comrades

2010-09-21T15:37:00.000+01:00

Malcolm Evison reads his poem 'Old Comrades'

Twitter Poem

2010-08-12T11:21:00.000+01:00

These few words were my first tweet of the last couple of days - scribbled down whilst observing the garden, feeling a bit sorry for myself - the poem as yet untitled

I see the lavender
transformed
into a fluttering

of butterfly wings.
Large whites
re-emphasize

the colour
of their perching
bloom.

Malcolm Evison
12 August 2010

And Black - a prose poem (video with paintings by and read by the poet)

2010-07-13T15:09:00.000+01:00

MAMMON

2010-05-02T15:02:00.001+01:00

MAMMON

(creator of social divisiveness)

Behold the god of lies

taker of lives

maker and breaker

of dreams -

creator god

who captivates

the mind -

spins webs

of treachery

replaces hope

with greed

installs himself

in all the highest places

proudly proclaims

there is no god but me

and we

fall for the party line.

Malcolm Evison

2 May 2010

"Sometimes" - for Janet & Graham

2010-02-07T20:39:00.000Z

SOMETIMES
(for Janet & Graham)

sometimes a meeting
just happens

sometimes
it's simply meant to be

often
the seeker doesn't know

just what is sought -
the meeting speaks

of what may be -
sometimes

the meeting tells
all those who care

a miracle
has just begun

Malcolm Evison
February 2010

Snow Trek

2010-01-14T15:45:00.000Z

Crisp crackling surrender
greets each footfall
almost as if it yearns
to be defiled.

Journeying on
I leave
an imprint
of my progress -

I tread defiantly
towards my goal.
Returning, I observe

my very own
ice-moulded tread -
almost as if

my journey
had been frozen
in time.

Malcolm Evison
14 January 2010

SHADOW LIGHT

2009-11-10T15:17:00.002Z

SHADOW LIGHT

shadows cast light
they resonate
through history

they never die

each action
stretches
through time

the ripple

reflects intention
on all who follow
the choice

is ours

to be wrapped
in darkness
or grasped by

the light

Malcolm Evison
10 November 2009

Listening To Mahler - a poem in six movements

2009-11-03T13:33:00.003Z

Gardening In Autumn

2009-10-28T17:44:00.003Z

Gardening In Autumn

mist hangs
like drops of perspiration
from the weary fronds

of autumn shrubs -
my senses sharpen
as they caress

my cheek.

malcolm evison
28 October 2009

Displaying Not Disclosing

2009-10-25T12:03:00.001Z

BEING - poetry video

2009-10-12T17:08:00.001+01:00

Garden Paradox & Accordion

2009-10-05T16:49:00.001+01:00

Accordion

2009-10-02T20:33:00.001+01:00

Sometimes

I feel

like an accordion

squeezed

by some

disembodied self

each chord

vibrates bruised reeds

each inspiration

teases out

a latent voice -

rarely

to be sustained -

almost as if

it chokes

on its own

respiration.

Malcolm Evison

02 October 2009

Garden Paradox - Twittering Garden

2009-09-24T21:34:00.000+01:00

twittering garden

GARDEN PARADOX

I walk into a paradox

the garden
lightly breeze stirred

breathes
false serenity
elsewhere

it seethes
it reels and jigs

frenetically

the shrubbery resounds

with babbling twittering

the birds crescendo

shakes it to the core

Malcolm Evison
14-09-09

The Simple Life

2009-08-27T16:43:00.001+01:00

THE SIMPLE LIFE

Wet grass gleams
through the dullness
of the day

he tramples it
underfoot -
treads slowly

across the lawn
towards the pond -
surprised

by sudden
piscine splashes
he smiles -

the sun breaks
through the cloud.

Malcolm Evison
26 August '09

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

Another (even more recent) simple write, The Goal, can be found on 'Archive Mined'

New Post on Archive Mined

2009-08-18T18:36:00.002+01:00

Just posted a brief new poem, THAT MOMENT, on "Archive Mined and Freshly Spun"

SPIKE

2009-08-12T21:58:00.001+01:00

SPIKE

Daylight confusion reigns,

the creature fails

to separate diurnal from nocturnal rules.

One easily discerns

something’s amiss

but has no ready answer

to the hedgehogs plight.

Find a nice box, line it

with newsprint, hay and towels

for the bewildered traveller,

leave it a snack

to nibble on. Come morning

the food has gone,

a coil of spines

heaves sleeping breaths

amongst the packaging.

I compliment myself

on job well done. Later,

the sun has reached it’s powering height,

the creature ventures out

and dozes on the sun-drenched lawn –

I move the spiky one

back into sheltered snuggling warmth

where he remains this time

but never roams again.

Malcolm Evison

12 August 2009

On Reflection

2009-05-21T21:36:00.001+01:00

ON REFLECTION

Sunshine

on puddled rain

reflects

the pride

of plants

refreshed

by elemental

forces

it lifts

my spirits

I hope

they won't evaporate

as I bask

calmly

in the afterglow.

Malcolm Evison

21 May 2009



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



The natural sequel to this poem, A PALE REFLECTION, can be found on ARCHIVE MINED & FRESHLY SPUN.

BIRTH OF AN ALIEN

2009-05-16T22:41:00.002+01:00

BIRTH OF AN ALIEN - A work in progress.

The following three poems (or three parts of one poem), still in draft form, are of necessity laid out consecutively; ideally (though impossibly) they should be read concurrently as each covers much the same period of the same individuals life. Autobiography is a new verse game for me but, I would appreciate any comments on the work so far.

BIRTH OF AN ALIEN

Part One - SHADOWS (Draft IIIA)

I was born -
unimaginably young -
to a backdrop of war
fought on a global scale.

Doodlebugs fledged their way
across the scene of my nativity -
I swear (a legacy
of wild imaginings)

I heard the engines stall
as death descended
plague-like
from the sky.

Childhood and youth
were spent
in the shadow
of a mushroom cloud –

as if by miracle
our lives went on.
Remaining unconvinced
by the ‘deterrence’ lie -

and guided by the light
of ‘Spies for Peace -
I joined the siege of bunkers -
which did not exist

according to
the parliamentary line –
where those that govern
could survive

improbable attacks.
Loophole acknowledged -
their reasoning must be
to strike pre-emptively

and I declined
the opportunity –
disowned all those prepared
for genocide, became

an alien in my own land.

Malcolm Evison
11 - 13 May 2009

BIRTH OF AN ALIEN

Part Two – LIGHT

Wrapped in a world full of love
whilst all around
was hate and fear -

(the enemy was thwarted
but not forgiven -
their future generations

would be tarnished
by the mark of Cain -
I failed to understand

that reasoning).

From my own comfort
rich in love
if not in pennies

I began to see
the world
through eyes

of others understanding -
took stands upon
my parents faith

reluctantly accepted
proscriptions
unknown to many

of my friends.
Sunday was decisively
the Lord's Day -

my father worked
being a preacher man -
my mother worked

looking after the family -
that was the day
I could not venture

out to play
with friends
whose parents

were otherwise
persuaded.
The radio was silent

save for the news
or hymn singing.
This was our Sabbath Day -

the would be sanctified
could only pray
for those proverbial sheep

so far astray -
it seemed
as if the second covenant

was made of rules
almost forgetting
the liberty of grace.

Malcolm Evison
14 May 2009

BIRTH OF AN ALIEN
Part Three – THE SCHOOL OF DOOM (Draft IIA)

A rebel prepared
for any cause
I traversed many
scenes but never found

my niche. I knew
from early teens
what I must be, but first
I must break free.

Eager to break the bonds
of school (a kind of punishment
for being young)
I dreamed my time away.

Moving from one school
to the next, never quite worked my way -
fell foul of alien traditions.
Compelled to join a company of snobs –

(a secondary punishment, once removed,
for my eleven-plus success) -
teachers just failed
to understand the differing curriculum

from one part of the country
to the next; dismissed me
as unworthy of attention
when I couldn’t understand

their different scheme of things.
They made me hooker
in their rugby union game,
when all I knew was soccer

not the queer toffs routine -
no-one attempted to explain
the rules and I became
a victim, kicked and ground

down. The previous absence
of a swimming pool
ensured I never learned to swim,
except against the tide -

they held me under
at the deeper end, then failed
to understand my trauma –
a baptism through drowning.

Loving to play with words
I soon lost patience
with the drill of prosody;
where words for me

had always throbbed with life,
they squeezed out their last breath
and bound them in a shroud
of grammar. Music

to me was singing,
but others in the class
had learned to read
a simple score -

the music man interpreted
attendance at a different school
as ignorance, my forte thwarted
by a different scale

of learning, and a tyrant’s whim.
And these were meant to be
the best years of one’s life?
Even school trips, had I been able

to partake, were way beyond
my parents means; in fifties Britain -
skiing had never been a part
of our lifestyle scheme,

not even part of any dream –
I made excuses, skulked
in the background
as if ashamed of being poor –

I never left these shores.

Malcolm Evison
15/16 May 2009

Windswept

2009-05-08T20:17:00.004+01:00

WINDSWEPT

the wind seizes the moment
turns tangents

scuds debris
through fresh accented
passageways

inertia becomes momentum

it takes
one’s breath away.

Malcolm Evison
08 May 2009

HER BOOK

2009-04-14T13:42:00.001+01:00

HER BOOK

Loose pages from time
collated and combined
to form a seal. ‘Fidelity’

italicized, illumined
on the manuscript –
an idol or ideal

once thought immutable.
Priestess enfleshed
as traditor, she stumbles

on her many tentacled
equivocation –
recalls the ritual

rending of the veil.
No longer able to maintain
her former love’s sectarian claim

she riffles through the pages
of her life. A few words
underlined, her youth transcribed

on parchment; genial memories
transformed into mysteries –

a facile binding
of a former liberty.

Malcolm Evison

SEMINARIAN

2009-03-25T16:07:00.001Z

SEMINARIAN

A sanctuary, this studied room –
a sacred place without divinity.

Here, he first began to scour
the weed-strewn paving of his mind –
thought-loads of words strove to devour
his piety.

The books, which thronged
his living space, provided sustenance –
a new found grace.

Alone,
a hermit walled in by abstractions,
striving to fill a god-shaped absence
with well-honed words.

Roomed in his study, studying his mind,
vacuity – that most tenacious weed –
has left him blind.

Malcolm Evison

BEING

2009-03-19T13:42:00.000Z

BEING

God spoke –
I dare not listen.

I could not face
the stillness
of simply being there.

God spoke:
there were no words –
I simply saw

the suffering of others.
I could not share

the stillness
of simply being there.

One day I knew
God could not speak -
I used my eyes,

I saw and felt
the suffering of multitudes –
I listened to their cries –

then cautiously I whispered
“I am here”

and from my helplessness
I knew -
that God was there.

Malcolm Evison
28 July 2005

Aged Poet celebrates his Beloved

2009-01-31T12:25:00.004Z

A new video of Malcolm reading three poems for Helen can be found on the Aged Poet's Space (Archive Mined & Freshly Spun) - why not have a listen.

The poems read are: EMBRACE, TRANSFORMED and THAT DAY.

Reclamation

2009-01-30T12:51:00.000Z

RECLAMATION

Just another
lightly throbbing
gritty grey day

a second chance
to modify one’s outlook
divert one’s gaze away

from the reality -
begin to play
the game

of life regained.

Malcolm Evison
29 January 2009

Malcolm reads Five more Poems

2009-01-29T15:01:00.002Z

The poems by Malcolm Evison are 'A Spun Illusion', 'Grey Day', 'Mist in Fell Country', 'Lines Beside The Garden Pond', 'Aubade' (sans le soleil)'.

MIMI

2008-10-04T17:56:00.001+01:00

MIMI

(aged 2 ½ years)

Wrapped in the warm fragrance

of the everyday

she moves mountains –

only to stumble

on the commonplace.

Complacency

so easily destroyed.

I try to capture it

with words, they writhe

relentlessly. She laughs

allows the world

to write

its affirmation.

Malcolm Evison

Man For His Age

2008-08-07T09:56:00.001+01:00

MAN FOR HIS AGE

Care-worn he leads

his guilt free life,

turns fears

into a bar-room joke –

he never fails

though sometimes falls

a victim to

“the changing times”.

Suburban heroes never weep,

they share with celluloid

an inability to bleed.

He veils his sorrows in

a sentimental song

and never sins –

his standards are complete

and up to date.

A true son

of a dying race.

Malcolm Evison

Flutter By Moment

2008-07-17T15:09:00.002+01:00

Flutter By Moment

it alights

softer than a whisper

on my sleeve

almost

as if it sought me out

I sit

relax

breathe in the gentle air -

the butterfly

spreads out its wings -

this moment

I am

at one

with nature

sharing the fragility

imagining

a place where all

could feel secure -

wearing

the butterfly

like a heart

on my sleeve

Malcolm Evison

17 July 2008

Sequel on Archive Mined

2008-07-05T16:31:00.001+01:00

A sequel to GREY DAY, entitled "RE-AFFIRMED" can be found on Archive Mined and Freshly Spun

GREY DAY

2008-07-05T15:45:00.003+01:00

GREY DAY

the light

or lack of it

strives to deny

day’s movement

the change

from slate

to milky grey

holds sway

the sky

is unremitting cloud

shrouding the day

in timelessness

there are no contrasts

simply a hint

that the earth

may yet prove flat

Malcolm Evison

5 July 2008

Listening To Stockhausen

2008-06-26T15:07:00.007+01:00

LISTENING TO STOCKHAUSEN’S CARRE
with COLIN (aged14 months)

High spaces, free and contained -
embraces, sacred and profane.

Each moment a change;
change the instant
start anew.

Fresh breezes, shrill streams
chimes ringing -

the baby smiles –
he shares
none of my amazement;

constantly amazed
his is affirmation.
He laughs, picks up a new toy.

I relax -
immersed in the present.

Spaces
free and contained.

Malcolm Evison

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

another poem, freshly unearthed from the archives, THE GIFT, can be read on Archive Mined and Freshly Spun

New Day on Archive Mined

2008-06-09T10:26:00.001+01:00

I have posted a further poem this morning, NEW DAY, on 'Archive Mined and Freshly Spun'.

Nightscape with Rainfall

2008-06-09T09:18:00.001+01:00

Nightscape with Rainfall

The rudiments of fear

trace each step;

the hollow echoes

dampered by the rain.

Haunted by absences -

the lack

of any company

to take the chill away -

a sudden surge

of cowardice betrays

his vanity.

The rudiments of fear

trace each step,

the hollow echo

silenced by the rain.

The last bedraggled remnant

of false pride

lies submerged

in his timid haste.

Malcolm Evison

Sanctuary

2008-05-28T18:55:00.001+01:00

SANCTUARY

Witnessing a fresco
in the chapel of my mind -
I could not rest.

My past -
emblazoned on the walls,
of this my secret hermitage -

I wept.

All colours had gone,
and only words hung there,
empty and cold.

Quietly in the night
I saw eternity decay
and knew
my life must change.

I awoke -
you arrived -
my transient future.

Malcolm Evison

Aged Poet has done some more archive trawling

2008-05-21T09:12:00.002+01:00

A (final) working draft of a poem from the Thatcher Era can be found on 'Archive Mined & Freshly Spun' (DOLE-FULL BLUES).

MOVING

2008-05-12T22:00:00.003+01:00

Whilst putting books back on their shelves, following recent decorating activity, I noticed a few dated jottings on the end papers of some volumes. (I had a habit of scribbling on the most immediately accessible blank piece of paper in those days).

I'm slightly mystified by this one but, something appeals/haunts me as I try to understand my more youthful mind-set.

MOVING

Times climate false and reasoned

calls me out of the dawn

into the full of light; moving

with great deliberation

full of ideas

as they are full of me -

time is the length of me

but I am larger

undefiled; moving

beyond the impotence

escaping

the disciplined innocence

of values which weigh

no heavier

than my tears of joy.

Malcolm Evison

14 January 1969

(re-moulded 12 May 2008)

Freshly Minted on 'Archive Mined'

2008-04-25T16:00:00.002+01:00

A freshly minted poem, NEED IS A PURPOSE, can be found on 'Archive Mined and Freshly Spun'

TWILIGHT SEARCH

2008-04-22T19:14:00.002+01:00

TWILIGHT SEARCH

The mind finds purpose

in pursuit of meaning;

openly seeking,

not knowing what.

The sky is vacant,

anaemically slate blue;

but night will fall,

add colour

to a pallid firmament.

The eye will forge

patterns

from a scattering

of stars.

The mind pursues

a greater scheme –

not knowing what.

Malcolm Evison

20 April 2008

Morning

2008-04-17T20:44:00.003+01:00

Morning

Blackly embroidered
against the morning sky,
three trees.

Filtering silver
through the mist; the sun
emerges into day.

But nothing seems
so real as in my dreams.

I grow into my death
it does not bind me:

the silence penetrates
my thoughts –
the face of Christ. In death
he conquered life,
turning even the shadows
into a source of light.

Death conquers life, life
death. The black and white,
merely the parts of one.

Under the endless weight of time
lies truth. Beneath the endless weight
of sky this earth. Waking
then walking through the quiet scene
the mist defines the dream
as truth.

Mist filtered early
morning sun
blackly embroidered trees.

The frosted earth
and silver sky destroys
all barriers.

Malcolm Evison

CEMENTING RELATIONSHIPS

2008-04-16T19:56:00.002+01:00

Cementing Relationships

Seeking a concrete image
to convey
a pre-stressed thought
I lay foundations
for a fettered space.

The blue-print fails
the structure
falls
far short of my emotion.

Set in my ways,
unable to explore
the breaking strain
my need will carry.

Construct a hermitage
of words;
contain
a solitude
upon the pristine page.

Malcolm Evison

ADAM and EVE

2008-03-02T20:12:00.007Z

These are two complementary poems from my collection 'THE STILLNESS MOVES' (Outposts, 1970)

ADAM

This man, this image is the scheme

of things. This pure delight

he finds as he touches

the flesh of a woman. Man-made

this gift of God, the rib that grew

and blossomed to preserve

the blossoming. The man seeks entrance, strives

to heal the wound. Who can unite

these themes; this earth, these images,

his dreams - deeper than knowledge?

This man, this image is

the scheme of things -

within it and beyond.

Malcolm Evison

EVE

There and unknown; unknowing. This one

this moment is. There

and she does not know it. She is.

The man moves from his loneliness

toward her. She looks ahead,

her gaze, steady and confident. Her eyes

affirm the day. He cannot share it, sensing

that her lips betray, this confidence.

He reaches out to touch

her face, her lips tremblingly apart;

a silent fear disturbs

and beautifies. There are no words.

(She, he, wait for the mystery

to reveal itself).

The touch. Words drop their silent veil.

“Amen”, she says, discovering the word.

“Thank-you”, he says, discovering their power.

Together theirs is praise: separate and one.

Malcolm Evison

New Poem on 'Archive Mined'

2008-02-07T15:59:00.000Z

A newly minted poem, DAZZLED DILEMMA, can be found on 'Archive Mined & Freshly Spun'

Two New Poems (first drafts)

2008-02-04T16:03:00.000Z

So much of my time is spent, within the four walls of my home, observing seasonal changes in the garden and the more regular changes of skyscape. The following two poems (or at least jottings towards a poem) were provided by a rather bland sky a few minutes ago. Of course it's quite obvious how the second jotting emerged from the first.

Displaying Not Disclosing

low cloud diffuses light

yet draws my sight

beyond it's own opacity

this grey tinged sky

defies all understanding

sun bathed it strives

to shield my eyes

from the radiance

that lies beyond its curtain

Malcolm Evison

4 February 2008

A Glass So Deeply Stained

sun bleached

low veiling cloud

denies all access

to the light beyond

my faith

is shrouded

when I fail

to share its light -

I pray

others may find

a breach in my opacity

Malcolm Evison

4 February 2008

The Road To Damascus

2008-01-29T15:49:00.000Z

ROAD TO DAMASCUS

Found, on the street, a stray

memory. A faded

photograph, poised

on the pavements edge.

I pick it up and ask

“who’s smiling now”.

The smoke of distant chimneys, hangs

like a solemn vow.

A bird glides down

and strikes

the shrouded sky.

The feathered-flesh

made word,

it screams “defy”.

(Now elevate the moment

separate

the power of darkness

from your restless mind.)

A sudden beam of light

destroys the shroud.

Malcolm Evison

September 1971

WINDBLOWN

2008-01-27T17:07:00.000Z

WINDBLOWN

The howling gale subsides
to lullaby proportions -

the wind’s bluster
suddenly becalmed -

I watch the scudding clouds -
their bellies washed

by a low surfing sun -
no-one has told them

to stop their scurrying
so I return to mine.

Malcolm Evison
27 January 2008

Restoration

2008-01-16T18:50:00.000Z

RESTORATION

A psychiatrist is duty
Cunningly disguised as man –

Defending the historic truths
Once made by mindless men
He views the scapegoat
Through a microscope
And the freedom
Proves embarrassing.

The victim has the time
To stand and stare
But will not say that
Those are sheep
And those are cows

He has no need

The doctor states it for him.

****

Enter the clinic as a man
Depart as a role
Leaving the poem
Unwritten.

Malcolm Evison (1967)

Old Comrades

2007-11-11T10:52:00.000Z

OLD COMRADES

Wearing the anguish

of old age

like some military honour,

he follows the cortege.

He remembers the Somme,

and how his thoughts

had turned to the mill-girl

two doors down.

Sometimes the dream looms

larger than his life.

A smile emerges, creasing

His well-worn mask –

his sorrow smothered

by her freely-imaged warmth.

Flossie her name was,

now she’s gone –

his death was living,

hers is snugly wrapped in wood.

He wears his grief with pride;

alone, misunderstood.

Malcolm Evison

Two Lakeland Poems

2007-10-04T15:15:00.000+01:00

These poems were both written in 1980

CONISTON WATER

Sudden blackness
turns away the light -
the lake suffused
with night, mirrors

a range of hills
reaching for fallen stars.
A dark reflection

trapped

between opaque shores.

Malcolm Evison

LANGDALE PIKES

Thrusting, as if to burst
the blue day's calm -
these pinnacles erupt

to destroy, or magnify
the ranging line -
we tremble as they breast

the solitudes of time.

Malcolm Evison

Two more archive poems have been posted by your truly on 'Archive MIned and Freshly Spun' under the title SMILES and FEARS

Flocks and Congregations

2007-09-07T21:52:00.000+01:00

FLOCKS AND CONGREGATIONS

A darkly brooding

Congregation

Of cumuli glowers

Overhead

Threatens to destroy

Our horizon

A neighbouring flock

Glows brightly

Caressed by the sun

We ignore the gloom

And drive

Towards the light

Malcolm Evison

7 September 2007

Reflected Glory

2007-08-19T17:01:00.000+01:00

REFLECTED GLORY

Macbeth of a sudden
broke his leg
as he bade the green room crowd
"good luck"

at this the mirror
was all broken up
and vowed
never to say aloud

the name of the king
now lying
in shattered glory.

Malcolm Evison
19 August 2007

Rude Awakening

2007-08-04T10:35:00.000+01:00

RUDE AWAKENING

The telephonic shrill
urgents me
blearily into dawn.

Discomfited I roll
myself across
a seeming endless

counterpane,

set foot
on an insecure floor,
retrieve the handset

and receive
a droning earful.

Bliss was it in that dawn
to be asleep,
to be awakened serves

to remind oneself
they’re far from heaven.

Malcolm Evison
4 August 2007

That Day (For Helen)

2007-05-16T20:34:00.000+01:00

THAT DAY (for Helen)

That day we found each other,
or perhaps the day
found us.

Though neither of us knew
what we were looking for,
a clasp of hands, an affirmation

of each others presence -
meant more
than either of us knew.

That day we found
each other -
and suddenly we knew.

Malcolm Evison
May 2007

Splash Into Spring

2007-03-15T17:10:00.000Z

SPLASH INTO SPRING

A sprinkling splash,

a sudden flash

of ruddy gold -

the first spring stirrings.

A long, slow, turgid rest

supplanted

by these vital chimes.

Today

they share the sunshine's joy -

and ripple wilfully.

Last seasons debris

stirred and shaken,

the fish escape

their sedimentary rest,

herald the promise

of brighter days to come.

Like me, they must have felt

they'd plumbed the depths

for far too long.

Malcolm Evison

14 March 2007

I posted this newly minted poem, yesterday, on GARBLED NOISE - a new multi-contributor blog!

A Noble Silence

2007-02-18T16:04:00.000Z

A NOBLE SILENCE

The winds howl stung
like a babble
of boisterous children

freshly released
from their desks enslavement –

eyes smart and ears burn,
tears stain
our cheeks, our words

disintegrate –
each futile utterance
yields

to the elemental
sound and fury.
We battle on

maintain a noble silence.

Malcolm Evison

18 February 2007

Mid-Winter Trees

2007-02-18T14:51:00.000Z

MIDWINTER TREES

Up close the trees
stand starkly bright -
they catch the sun's
low grazing light.

Their distant serried ranks
transform
the ranging hills sharp line.

The sun crowned tracery
of twigs is fused

into a frond of flame.

Malcolm Evison
18 February 2007

First Rite

2007-01-24T15:44:00.000Z

This is my first poem of the New Year, written this afternoon.

First Rite

Reluctantly compliant twigs

permit the murmuring wind

to pluck arpeggios -

they glisten as they dance,

throw off the recent rain,

as if to solemnize the ground

in Holy baptism.

Shoots drill

through the cold

sodden ground,

shrilling defiance.

Snow’s residue,

a blanket stitch,

hems in the pale green spears.

A sunbeam breaks

the day’s grey wash -

as if to bless

this new emergence.

Malcolm Evison

24 January 2007

The Poet

2006-12-19T14:54:00.000Z

I've just been riffling through a few old working manuscripts and stumbled upon this one written sometime between 1969 and 1971.

THE POET

That is, if I dare say, my destiny. To grasp

and to expand, each feeling moment. Eternity

not mere renewal. Fearing the used-words

of my thought. My destiny. Are the words mine

to use, is any word, a property. I speak

in fear of loosely spoken

words. My destiny!

***********

Today and alone, I return. To what –

all has changed and still I know it is.

My returning. Home and the word

And the thought of the word. Home, and the skies

are open, and a song

of welcome pounds through my veins. Home,

and my eyes can see the song.

Today. And no more alone. I return.

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

And night conceals. Not even a whisper is heard.

So silently another dawn – and the fields,

the fields open as if to swallow me. I sit

and remember

(before the night/ another today)

a home. A destiny.

Alive. A sound. A shattering.

A whisper of you

from you for me. All is alive

with sound. The yawning trees, the birds

burst into song – the trees and images

of you. The blossoming and songs.

Songs in my mind and you

beside me. A song. A touch of you

on me; I feel

that you need me (not only I need you)

a sound, a touch – transforming words into

a destiny.

Malcolm Evison

TRANSFORMED (for Helen)

2006-12-13T18:30:00.000Z

TRANSFORMED

(for Helen)

Right now I feel

the urge to scream

forget the aching limbs

dance deftly

on the brim

of my emotions.

Right now

I feel the lure of love

the light

that breaches

my stoical defence.

I see your face

I glow with joy -

right now

there is no you or I

as we rejoice.

Right now I am

alive with you -

I feel -

imbibe the air of this

our perfect world.

Malcolm Evison

13 December 2006

A Way of Seeing

2006-11-27T17:30:00.000Z

A WAY OF SEEING

This room is an echo –
echo of all my dreams. The actor
waiting for a role. The preacher listening
to silent voices, expecting
tongues of flame. The fields
are tumbling
down towards the road. Alone,
that’s not like loneliness, a brightness

flows from distant murmuring.
Approaching friends, or strangers even.
The valley is alive, the room
is echoing
with hope. Pain falls
a victim to its own dis-ease. The room

is light; the light reveals
my will to see. It enters me.

I dwell
in brightened shadows,
ignoring shadowed light.

Malcolm Evison

A Question of Balance

2006-11-19T16:24:00.000Z

A QUESTION OF BALANCE

Garnering the thoughts
of others, he fails
to find some of his own -

he holds back tears to show
he does not share
the fears others know.

He balances the cost of feeling
against the numbness
of blind fate. He sighs

and calculates the cost
of caring, avoids the sharing
of any others woe.

He always felt that questions
would sustain his growth -
he never claimed to know.

He bought himself
a ticket to ride
then found

he had no place to go.

Malcolm Evison
19 November 2006

Aubade (sans le soleil)

2006-10-26T12:47:00.000+01:00

AUBADE (sans le soleil)

Wrapped futilely
in the realm of beauty sleep –
dawn rarely dawns on me.

Long after the appointed hour,
the room is thunder-black -
draw back the curtains.

The sky has lost
its breathing space –
choked by the clouds,

voluptuously hanging
in their mourning drapes –
symbolic of a troubled world.

I sigh, and seek
the duvet’s solace –

for me the day
has not yet quite begun.

Malcolm Evison
26 October 2006

EMBRACE

2006-10-22T14:56:00.000+01:00

EMBRACE

Wrapped in each other
we break illusions
of our separateness.

As bodies merge
we lose location
finding our place

in vaster schemes.
Thanksgiving, sanctified
with each embrace,

transmits a joy
beyond our reckonings.
Today

love knows no bounds.

Malcolm Evison
22 October 2006

Her Book

2006-10-17T13:04:00.000+01:00

NIGHT SHIFTS

2006-10-12T16:37:00.000+01:00

NIGHT SHIFTS

Aimlessly walking through
the quiet town, an echo
painlessly affirms belonging.

Night falls;
the day disintegrates -
all reference fails.

I cannot wrap this world
in meaning. Slowly it burns
out the old images, the worn

words, the soiled. This is
the turning point; the nights
calm trodden underfoot.

Hold out your hands;
capture a fragment
of the neon-splintered

sky. A window brightly
shouts its wares.
Stares

into darkness
and reveals
its own banality.

Malcolm Evison (1978)

A Piscine Ploy

2006-09-08T15:02:00.000+01:00

A PISCINE PLOY

Suspended in anticipation;
slow motion animation
is the name

of their new game.
They could be simply basking
in the sun

but I
with cynics heart and eye
suspect more base Intent.

Scatter
a few morsels
of delight –

Shatter
their tranquillity.
They swoop

like vultures –
swiftly devour
a non-resisting prey.

Malcolm Evison
3 – 8 September 2006

A Spun Illusion

2006-09-08T13:27:00.000+01:00

A SPUN ILLUSION

A few slender lines
of spider silk

stretch
between wild grasses

deflect
and tantalize
the sun’s beams –

like wingless dragonflies -
a plenitude of insects seems
to haunt the lines –

an intermittent
iridescent sheen

darts between threads
and blithely skips

along the spider’s
anchoring

Malcolm Evison
8 September 2006

SONG FOR D

2006-09-03T17:51:00.000+01:00

SONG FOR D

Sometimes an unforced smile

masks out fragility, band-aid

applied instead

of tourniquet. Sometimes

a fought for strength

defies understanding –

proclaims that everything

will be alright –

denies the fault line

that strives to undermine

the songs foundation.

Sometimes

we must return, strive

to uncover

a truth already known.

Malcolm Evison
3 September 2006

Rhythm of the Rain

2006-08-18T12:26:00.000+01:00

A first tentative draft responding to my wake-up call!

RAINDROPS KEEP FALLING OVERHEAD

Full-bounce, full taps -
the odd rim-shot
snapped out –

the rapping rain asserts
its skylight presence.

Entranced -
I listen as
it riffs away -

a paradiddle plenitude
marks my emergence
into day.

Then lightening
fires a cymbal crash –

a bass drum sostenuto
now holds sway.

Malcolm Evison
18 August 2006

Morning Song

2006-08-16T12:11:00.000+01:00

Morning Song

The large whites demonstrate
flirtatious flying

red dragonfly reflects
a darting counterpoint

to food frenzied
goldfish

the morning radiates
pure energy

unlocks
my heavy-lidded eyes.

Malcolm Evison
16 August 2006

Unveiling

2006-08-07T12:24:00.000+01:00

UNVEILING (Draft II)

Some days, a few words
scribbled down in haste,
a simple melody, a subtle
turn of phrase, unclothes

another’s world. And there,
beneath a supple shell, you find
a heart that bleeds;
it seeds itself beneath

the skin, you share the pain,
then seek to radiate the joy
their presence in the world
discloses. Some days you know

that you are not alone. The wave
that rises, through the words and song,
washes away your frown. You share
a smile, a caring strength;

you know your world
can never be the same.

Sometimes, a word of thanks reveals
that we can overcome;
sometimes a body sings the joy
of sharing; sometimes

we simply share
the pain of caring.

Malcolm Evison
06 August 2006

Squirrel In The Rain

2006-05-22T20:21:00.000+01:00

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

THE YO-YO MAN

2006-04-14T09:22:00.000+01:00

Whirling, it made the day
seem shorter than
all other days had been.

It sang and leapt
at his fine tuned command;
his finger tingled,

as the loop pulled tight.
He winced a smile. For now,
he'd thrown his cares away;

next time, perhaps,
he'd simply let them go.

Malcolm Evison

The Fear of Fall

2006-04-06T13:09:00.000+01:00

THE FEAR OF FALL

Though clouds have cleared
still I fear

their returning fall.

Your smile reflects
my whispered yearning –

presence and absence
jointly affirming

love’s own reality.

Each meeting proclaims
a joyous creation –

departing pre-figures
my fear
of the final fall.

Malcolm Evison