MAL's FACTORY - Poetry & Prose Poems

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.

Thursday, May 10, 2018

AWE STRUCK - a poem


and late at night
I trudge through well-worn paths
alone beneath the vastness
of the skies

awe struck
I stop and stare -
no other footfall echoes
in this vast auditorium

I spot
a glow worm light
wonder if it too may be
as distant

as the firmament
of stars
always remaining
just out of reach


Malcolm Evison
04 October 2012

Wednesday, March 28, 2018

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

Tuesday, March 27, 2018

Alexander's Whole New World - a poem about a grandson

Alexander's Whole New World

he chuckles
at the fleeting change
of his expanding

relentlessly observes
each miracle of light
and colour
touch and sound

chortles of glee define
each new discovery -
he finds a voice
from screech and gurgled tones

exploratory chatter
shares delight
with all around

Malcolm Evison
March 2018

Wednesday, March 21, 2018

Squirrel In The Rain

          Squirrel In The 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   

Monday, March 19, 2018

if only I could be a Tory - verse

just a piece of heartfelt light verse! 

If only I could be a Tory

Wish I was a heartless bastard
life could be so sweet
I'd believe the mainstream papers
and kick beggars in the street

Wish I was a mindless sod
'cos I could be so mean
believing news from the BBC
and worshipping the Queen

Wish I was a selfish git
without a thought or care
I'd join the Tory party
laugh at the poor's despair

Wish I was a heartless sod
knowing nowt but playing God

                                                      M.E 190318

Thursday, March 15, 2018

A Write to Overcome!


An all encompassing hollow ache
resonates with nauseating discomfort;
both mind and body scream aloud,
enforcing tears upon an erstwhile stoic frame.

No knowledge can determine
whether these tears, yelled expletives
or vocalized profanities,
none of which were hoped for,

can proffer relief. The question stands
unanswered, by any reasoned response,
how best to cope with the inexplicable,
opioid defying, prolonged aching pain;

there is no where
or way to turn,
one simply endures
until the next reprieve.

Malcolm Evison
15 – 03 - 18

*also a RITE and/or a RIGHT but firstly the WRITE is for a purpose

Wednesday, January 31, 2018

When I Could - a poem apropos chronic illness

When I Could
           (apropos ME)*

when I could
I often did

at very least
I tried

now I cannot
it crucifies
my past life
truly died

Malcolm Evison

31 January 2018

   * Myalgic Encephalomyelitis – but also me!

from a scribbled note 02 April 2017

Tuesday, January 09, 2018

MORNING - a poem - re-posted

just a poem from my archives, unedited; original goes back to the 1970s (as best my memory serves me) but, previously published on this blog in 2009


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

Sunday, January 07, 2018

Dogged Squalls

Dogged Squalls (Draft 12)

more puddles than hardcore form
the canines bridleway -

the howling gales chill breath
fails to dispel
the moisture sated clouds -

unbridled lashings of rain
perturbs the hounds
and angers their human minders

Malcolm Evison

04 January 2018