The Road To Damascus

ROAD TO DAMASCUS

Found, on the street, a stray

memory. A faded

photograph, poised

on the pavements edge.

I pick it up and ask

“who’s smiling now”.

The smoke of distant chimneys, hangs

like a solemn vow.

A bird glides down

and strikes

the shrouded sky.

The feathered-flesh

made word,

it screams “defy”.

(Now elevate the moment

separate

the power of darkness

from your restless mind.)

A sudden beam of light

destroys the shroud.

Malcolm Evison

September 1971

WINDBLOWN

WINDBLOWN

The howling gale subsides
to lullaby proportions -

the wind’s bluster
suddenly becalmed -

I watch the scudding clouds -
their bellies washed

by a low surfing sun -
no-one has told them

to stop their scurrying
so I return to mine.

Malcolm Evison
27 January 2008

Restoration

RESTORATION


A psychiatrist is duty
Cunningly disguised as man –

Defending the historic truths
Once made by mindless men
He views the scapegoat
Through a microscope
And the freedom
Proves embarrassing.

The victim has the time
To stand and stare
But will not say that
Those are sheep
And those are cows

He has no need

The doctor states it for him.

****

Enter the clinic as a man
Depart as a role
Leaving the poem
Unwritten.





Malcolm Evison (1967)

Old Comrades

OLD COMRADES

Wearing the anguish

of old age

like some military honour,

he follows the cortege.

He remembers the Somme,

and how his thoughts

had turned to the mill-girl

two doors down.

Sometimes the dream looms

larger than his life.

A smile emerges, creasing

His well-worn mask –

his sorrow smothered

by her freely-imaged warmth.

Flossie her name was,

now she’s gone –

his death was living,

hers is snugly wrapped in wood.

He wears his grief with pride;

alone, misunderstood.

Malcolm Evison

Two Lakeland Poems

These poems were both written in 1980

CONISTON WATER

Sudden blackness
turns away the light -
the lake suffused
with night, mirrors

a range of hills
reaching for fallen stars.
A dark reflection

trapped

between opaque shores.


Malcolm Evison



LANGDALE PIKES

Thrusting, as if to burst
the blue day's calm -
these pinnacles erupt

to destroy, or magnify
the ranging line -
we tremble as they breast

the solitudes of time.


Malcolm Evison


Two more archive poems have been posted by your truly on 'Archive MIned and Freshly Spun' under the title SMILES and FEARS

Flocks and Congregations

FLOCKS AND CONGREGATIONS

A darkly brooding

Congregation

Of cumuli glowers

Overhead

Threatens to destroy

Our horizon

A neighbouring flock

Glows brightly

Caressed by the sun

We ignore the gloom

And drive

Towards the light

Malcolm Evison

7 September 2007

Reflected Glory

REFLECTED GLORY

Macbeth of a sudden
broke his leg
as he bade the green room crowd
"good luck"

at this the mirror
was all broken up
and vowed
never to say aloud

the name of the king
now lying
in shattered glory.


Malcolm Evison
19 August 2007

Rude Awakening

RUDE AWAKENING


The telephonic shrill
urgents me
blearily into dawn.

Discomfited I roll
myself across
a seeming endless

counterpane,

set foot
on an insecure floor,
retrieve the handset

and receive
a droning earful.

Bliss was it in that dawn
to be asleep,
to be awakened serves

to remind oneself
they’re far from heaven.


Malcolm Evison
4 August 2007

That Day (For Helen)

THAT DAY (for Helen)


That day we found each other,
or perhaps the day
found us.

Though neither of us knew
what we were looking for,
a clasp of hands, an affirmation

of each others presence -
meant more
than either of us knew.

That day we found
each other -
and suddenly we knew.


Malcolm Evison
May 2007

Splash Into Spring

SPLASH INTO SPRING

A sprinkling splash,

a sudden flash

of ruddy gold -

the first spring stirrings.

A long, slow, turgid rest

supplanted

by these vital chimes.

Today

they share the sunshine's joy -

and ripple wilfully.

Last seasons debris

stirred and shaken,

the fish escape

their sedimentary rest,

herald the promise

of brighter days to come.

Like me, they must have felt

they'd plumbed the depths

for far too long.

Malcolm Evison

14 March 2007

I posted this newly minted poem, yesterday, on GARBLED NOISE - a new multi-contributor blog!

A Noble Silence

A NOBLE SILENCE


The winds howl stung
like a babble
of boisterous children

freshly released
from their desks enslavement –

eyes smart and ears burn,
tears stain
our cheeks, our words

disintegrate –
each futile utterance
yields

to the elemental
sound and fury.
We battle on

maintain a noble silence.

Malcolm Evison

18 February 2007

Mid-Winter 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
18 February 2007