Nightscape with Rainfall -- re-post

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

two from twitter

            Twitter Poems 2^nd June & 2^nd August 2014

Malcolm Evison ‏@sinnaluvva

oppressive muggy day

exacerbates

the old familiar

aches & pains

02 June 2014

#spoonie #verse

Malcolm Evison ‏@sinnaluvva  4m

the rain siles down

breaking

the skies dark gloom

the clouds grimace

now bears

a sunshine smile

#poem

3:37 PM - 2 Aug 2014 

two more twitter poems can be found on my Archive Mined blog at

http://hirsutemal.wordpress.com/2014/08/03/two-twitter-poems/

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

First Rite

This is my first poem of the New Year, written this afternoon.

First Rite

Reluctantly compliant twigs

permit the murmuring wind

to pluck arpeggios -

they glisten as they dance,

throw off the recent rain,

as if to solemnize the ground

in Holy baptism.

Shoots drill

through the cold

sodden ground,

shrilling defiance.

Snow’s residue,

a blanket stitch,

hems in the pale green spears.

A sunbeam breaks

the day’s grey wash -

as if to bless

this new emergence.

Malcolm Evison

24 January 2007

Rhythm of the Rain

A first tentative draft responding to my wake-up call!

RAINDROPS KEEP FALLING OVERHEAD

Full-bounce, full taps -
the odd rim-shot
snapped out –

the rapping rain asserts
its skylight presence.

Entranced -
I listen as
it riffs away -

a paradiddle plenitude
marks my emergence
into day.

Then lightening
fires a cymbal crash –

a bass drum sostenuto
now holds sway.




Malcolm Evison
18 August 2006

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

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