BIRTH OF AN ALIEN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Listening To Stockhausen

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

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

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.

 

 

                       Malcolm Evison

Sanctuary

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

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

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)

Freshly Minted on 'Archive Mined'

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