Squirrel In The Rain

poem and image by malcolm evison

rediscovered fragment - weft and warp

Weft and warp the winding river

Weaves a sky-glass mirror wide

Where broken reeds in woeful frolic dance

And all of nature is a song field

Happy singing softly low

Hush waves sift across the shallows

Humming pebbles flow

In my mind I know no resting

See the country torment side

Burdened down with woeful pity

Watching sorrow crease their smiles

In the heaving night I lie awake

I lie awake and think of green of day

When I with you through fields will wander

Our love we must not squander away

Away dull cares and lift the heavy shield

That guards my ears and eyes

I want to live, to breathe, to love

Far from my captive sighs

Malcolm Evison

(a rediscovered fragment of a poem I was working on circa 1966 – no prize for guessing the poet to whom it was indebted)

Squirrel in the Rain - repost

       
Having watched the acrobatic antics of a squirrel,  in various parts of our garden, this morning, I thought it was maybe time to repost this poem!


Squirrel InThe 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 


             

On The Road To The Isles - repost

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

Mounds Mystery

Mounds Mystery

Each tussock casts a spell

It holds the hound in thrall

To some deep primitive allure

His nostrils flare

Then slap the fragranced air

As they snap back

Swallow the scent

Of other marking creatures

Or maybe deeper still

Beneath the tufted mound

Some timid smaller prey

Seeks sanctuary

Malcolm Evison

13 – 18 February 2019

A SPUN ILLUSION

poem & graphic by Malcolm Evison

A Piscine Ploy - illustrated poem

A PISCINE PLOY #poetry #IllustratedPoem painting & poem by Malcolm Evison 2006 - 

Illustrated poem created 02 September 2018

AWE STRUCK - a poem

AWE STRUCK

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

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   

Splash into Spring - illustrated poem

Twilight Search - illustrated poem

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

time & tide - freshly illustrated poem

A Noble Silence - illustrated poem by Malcolm Evison

   
                          A Noble Silence (2007) illustrated August 2017 - Malcolm Evison

I see the lavender - illustrated poem

Two Illustrated Poems - SPIKE and BURDOCK

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

and warmth caresses

AND WARMTH CARESSES

a day of brightness

and warmth

caresses

a wildly inflamed

frame

and brain

the opioids

assisted

a belated entry

into day

but thankfully

nature

proffered

a welcoming

charm

malcolm evison

04 May 2016

TWICE REMOVED

and here is the simple text of the same poem, in case of difficulty reading the illustrated poem

TWICE REMOVED

Today the sky

is one removed

from second-hand

the space

of window-door

is boarded up

the new skylight

reveals

a mottled blue white

ceiling. And we

sealed off

held captive

to constructor’s

whim

Malcolm Evison

30 March 2016

WORDS FAIL - (A Fell Revisited)

                                                 

                                                                                        WORDS FAIL

These words do not ring true,

cannot contain the tread

of rubber sole upon the beaten track,

the slide of stone beneath the feet,

the rustling of leaves

among the tangled roots.

These words cannot ring true;

as roots erode the step

whose shelf they form –

my words fail to express

the stressful joy, fail to commune

with nature. These words

do not permit the real footfall.

The fell remains

Unconquered.

Malcolm Evison

09 January 2016

Revision of Apropos Kings How – May 1981