BEING

A Glass So Deeply Stained

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

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

Dazzled Dilemma

THOUGHT and PRAYER two vintage poems - freshly illustrated

PRAYER - a poem - Malcolm Evison 1970

THOUGHT - a poem - Malcolm Evison (1960's)

burdock

burdock

the gnawing pain

increases its intensity

in elbows, wrists and knees,

adheres to despondency

like burdock

to coarse clothing

and I, the bystander,

can only stare

into a void of despair

observe

my own decay -

words fail to proffer hope

they only weave

a crude blanket

around an emptiness

which only faith

can fill

Malcolm Evison

13 October 2016

Seminarian and Poem to Secular Jesus - illustrated poems

BEING - illustrated poem

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

Two New Poems (first drafts)

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