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.
Saturday, July 05, 2008
Sequel on Archive Mined
GREY DAY
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
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Listening To Stockhausen
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
Monday, June 09, 2008
New Day on Archive Mined
Nightscape with Rainfall
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.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
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.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Aged Poet has done some more archive trawling
Monday, May 12, 2008
MOVING
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)
Friday, April 25, 2008
Freshly Minted on 'Archive Mined'
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
TWILIGHT SEARCH
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
Thursday, April 17, 2008
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
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
CEMENTING RELATIONSHIPS
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




