the candle

 I've just rediscovered these two drafts, dating back to January 1991 - I still can't decide which draft I prefer!

 

 

 

                                                      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

 

 

 

 

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 pure?

 

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

January 1991

on the road to the isles

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

One for Richard III

Guess what positively identified car park skeleton prompted me to re-publish this poem

MISSION BETRAYED

[Redemore 22 August 1485]

Misjudged by many of my peers,

betrayed by those in whom

I placed my trust. Today

I sift through memory,

acknowledge scheming in my blood -

the unquenched thirst

of generations. Betrayal

led me to accept defeat

out of the very jaws

of victory. I clung

to pride.

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

A Judas multiplied

was on my side,

in faith, I thought them

little Christs. Their company

made for me

a lonely ride.

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

The wetlands bogged me down,

Canuted by the rapid-turning tide.

Today I made myself

a pawn

for Tudors grasping hand -

Today I died a King,

upheld the remnants

of my dignity.

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

My crown was no more theft

than fate contrives

to thrust on monarchy itself -

Today I have my pride.

                       Malcolm Evison