In the wee small hours

this poem is a brand new reworking of a poem from 2011 – just a decade on from the original!

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The pain of not to know

a words true meaning –

(a heartfelt paradox

so tautologically entwined)


brain travels inscapes

of the mind


the universe declaims

I AM – the exocentric

altar. Delving

through layers of time


exploring a fresh terrain –

we dream of worlds

where words were not yet


known. We fail to understand.



Seeking our solace

in links with primal man –

we feel the air vibrate


with all our fears,

and through the storm

we hear the voice that tears

at our discretion.


All is, and nought eludes

our sense, each particle

is new, and each the wholeness.


Then vision fades.




Unable to untie

our deepest fears,

from realms of theory,


we seek salvation

in vacuity –


unable to unite

the reasons for this life

with joy in living


we yearn for sunlight

to dissipate the gloom –

at each encounter

ache for renewed creation.


The phase explodes –


gone is all sense

and reason yields

to circumstance.



Our reminiscence magnifies

the mis-spent days –

heroic sacrifice

now reeks of self-abuse.


Our word-linked knowledge

looks to primal man –


speaking of worlds

where words were not yet known –


no matter how we squirm

we fail to understand


that words

are still the master

of the man.



                              Malcolm Evison      

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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)

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Night’s Torments – a hasty first draft – an instant response

Nights Torments

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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


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A Noble Silence – illustrated poem – repost

A Noble Silence reduced

poem & illustration by Malcolm Evison

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A Spun Illusion – repost

A Spun Illusion

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High Court tramples on workers rights – 2 poems dis-interred

Today the High Court found an excuse to prevent the CWU from taking strike action in spite of the ballot receiving 97% support for their action! 

The two poems below date from October 2017 when the Tory High Court previously ruled against these workers rights.

towards an Autocratic State mod


Listening to Shepp 'Magic of Ju-Ju' (in response to High Court vs CWU)

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As If The Worlds Woe – draft IV

As If The Worlds Woe

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Some Frenzied God

Some Frenzied God

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