BEING - illustrated poem

Moving - poem

     MOVING


Times climate false and reasoned
calls me out of the dawn
into the full of light; moving

with great deliberation
full of ideas
as they are full of me -

time is the length of me
but I am larger
undefiled; moving

beyond the impotence
escaping
the disciplined innocence

of values which weigh 
no heavier
than my tears of joy.


                           

                         Malcolm Evison
                         14 January 1969 
                (re-moulded 12 May 2008)

some frenzied god

some frenzied god
or giant
spews out its bile

the howling gale
shakes everything
down to the very root

torrential rain 
discloses flaws 
in ones protection

washes the debris away

and I retreat 
to the shelter 
of a house built on rock


malcolm evison
5 December 2013

the kleptocrats - a ConDem Nation

the kleptocrats
all fail to see
value

in anything apart
from their own
comfort

all else is simply
theirs to use
abuse

and callously
destroy

Malcolm Evison 14 Jan 2014

Midwinter Trees

             MIDWINTER TREES

Up close the trees

stand starkly bright -

they catch the sun's

low grazing light.

Their distant serried ranks

transform

 the ranging hills sharp line.

The sun crowned tracery

of twigs is fused

  into a frond of flame.

                         Malcolm Evison

two for National Poetry Day

twitter verse 031013

 

veiled by the mist

rain sodden fronds bow down

as if in obeisance

to the saturated ground

 

 

 

Austere Grey Day

 

although the dismal gloom

pays homage to austerity -

 

sunshine can soon dissolve

the grey skies misery -

 

austerity

will cast dark shadows

 

as long as

dogmatists prevail

 

 

                   Malcolm Evison

                   03 October 2013

what goes around - comes around

Two of my poems from the mid 1980's

unfortunately as pertinent today as in a previous Tory reign!

 

 

 

 

Furniture Salesman

 

Too late, even to sell
himself. The air is silent.

Distinct servility
lurks behind

that benign smile -
lacking expectancy.

Once there was the quiet
thrill of anticipation -

a first transaction
in the adult world -

but that first tremor
soon began to wane.

Once he waxed lyrical
to tell of all

the benefits
the purchaser might find:

now he's resigned -

too late
even to sell himself.

 

Malcolm Evison

 

 

 

Doleful Blues

(Just One Of Maggie’s Victims)


                        He seeks and fails to find

the semblance of

his once bright hope.

The family sleeps, he lies

awake, perhaps

a few untruths could make

an honest man of him.

Purveyor of unwanted skills,

he sifts through all

the cut-price vacancies –

prepares to swallow principle

as well as pride.

                

                                              Malcolm Evison

Consultation–poem (illustrated)

consultation - illustrated poem

twitter impromptus

twitter impromptus

 

 

bright

 

bright sunshine

fries brain

perspiration

swiftly replaces

inspiration

 

 

malaise

 

this time the outpouring

of expletive laden invective

fails to alleviate

the nausea inducing malaise

 

-  otherwise I'm OK!

 

 

butterflies

 

the butterflies imbibe

nectar of lavender

 

even dark clouds

that gather and glower

 

have not yet

frightened them

 

away

 

 

bees

 

an abundance of bumble bees

are drawn to the teasel

and globe thistle flowers -

 

the garden has a buzz of summer

 

 

                           

                            Malcolm Evison  

                               July 2013

 

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