Advent Reflections - Golgotha Days

This year I spent considerable time on Advent readings and meditations, for some reason I've always found time for Lent studies but have somewhat overlooked approprate studies for the Advent season. What with having spent most of the past year alone, my beloved OH having been in Nursing Home care since January 2023, and an even more disheartening situation in the 'Holy Land'these studies didnot come easy but somehow, my seasonal reflections became a poem which I am now sharing with you:

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New Post on Mal's Factory - Poetry & Prose Poems

I have just posted a NEW POEM - Mounds Mystery - on my Mal's Factory blog. When I say new there is a possibility that it may yet prove to be quite simply a working draft.

a piece of heartfelt light verse - audio

A BODY FEELS (The Heat)

A BODY FEELS (THE HEAT)

Each footstep jolts

the ankle, knee and hip

provokes a frank response

to the humid heat

Today the weariness

extends its reach

beyond the old

familiar aches and pains

Almost as if each limb

and digit has undergone

some sauna torture.

As irritated bowel

And subservient colon

conspire against the bladders need -

bladder reciprocates the deed

and every oozing pore

Screams out for mercy

Malcolm Evison –

first hasty draft 18.50 -  23 July 2018

Night and Day and ... on and on

A night, plagued by both restless legs and a kind of strangulated tenderness emanating from the axillary lymph nodes, found me more exhausted on arising from the duvet realm, shortly after 10.00am, than I had been when I got myself into the bed 11 hours earlier. This did not bode well for the ensuing cold and damp morning and afternoon; that sense of foreboding proved quite apt.

Aches in wrists and elbows forced me to lay both laptop and tablet pc’s aside as a nausea inducing hollow ache in the armpits took control. I removed my outer garments and applied elbow and wrist supports in an attempt to alleviate the symptoms. The discomfort intensified ….

Anyway, the following poem resulted from this experience.

Poem and illustration both by yours truly

Illustrated Poems on Mal's Factory

A few illustrated poems, by yours truly, have recently been posted on MAL's FACTORY

and warmth caresses

The Common Cold - A Rare Event (an accidental posting)

Life goes on, recurrence of the old familiar aches, pains and dysfunctions (primarily ME related) nag me into acknowledgment of my presence in the material world. Don't get me wrong, whatever  ailments are thrown my way I still manage a smile, a laugh and, dare I say it, pure enjoyment and delight in the presence of my beloved.

The last few days I've been quite knocked out by a quite severe cold and, who knows, this may be a good sign - fingers crossed for the moment but I won't hold my breath; last time I had a real cold was best part of thirteen years ago. In 2003, a cold or flu-like symptoms seemed to accompany my every day, never materializing as a full-blown anything. Two thousand and three was also the year of my major collapse leading to an eventual ME diagnosis; in the meantime, whatever discomforts and anguish I've been heir to, a full blown cold has eluded me.

Actually I had no intention of writing a full post, just wanted to say that I've posted a brand new poem (both text only and illustrated version) on my Mal's Factory poetry weblog. It very much reflects the present ambience in which I have my being.

Link: http://malsfactory.blogspot.co.uk/2016/03/twice-removed.html

Why not visit my POETRY blog?

Check out my most recent postings on MAL's FACTORY - a blog for poetry & prose-poems - http://malsfactory.blogspot.co.uk

the wonder of chilled silver

Two new poems CHILLED SILVER and WONDERMENT have been posted on my Mal's Factory poetry & prose poem blog.

Revivified on Mal's Factory

I've just posted a NEW poem on Mal's Factory - 'The Yo-Yo Man' a rough draft of which had lain dormant on my hard-drive since 2006

living moderately

Well hello again! I’m not sure whether its weeks or months since I last proffered a “proper” blog post and, I must admit that the prospect seems rather daunting. No excuses, there’ve been good times and bad times, rough days and smooth days, since my last full offering and my stamina reserves have been used on other pursuits.

Upturns are represented by my casting aside the walking stick on several occasions, managing a moderately brisk walk of several hundred yards, whilst still lamenting an inability to manage a few miles. Some people are never satisfied!

I still enjoy our garden, no matter what the season, albeit from a passive observational perspective; what would we do without the professional services of our friend Martyn? Although I sometimes pride myself on my pacing, I still find myself suffering the payback penalty when enthusiasm for a modest task leads to even a modicum of over-exertion.

The usual problem is recognizing the exertion that may be demanded to fulfil an apparently simple undemanding task. One such example was a recent successful attempt at re-potting a contorted hazel shrub. Initial preparation of the new container went smoothly but, once I’d placed the plant in situ, the task of infilling turned out to be the proverbial straw. Brain fog, an amplification of all my familiar sundry aches and pains (muscular, joints, lymph nodes, abdominal spasms etc) and an inability to control my legs as I headed back to the house – a kind of conscious restless leg syndrome! The next couple of days passed in an achingly painful, mentally hazy, sense of being; it took a little more time before a tingling sensation of being trapped in an undersized skin receded.

It’s a few weeks now since my beloved retired from her salaried employment, at the doctors surgery, so I’m really enjoying more of her company. Mind you, she’s still meaningfully occupied as a local preacher, an assistant on computers at the Acorn Centre, Fair Trade issues and involvement with the local Labour Party.

 Until recently it has been somewhat difficult to persuade her to take much needed recuperative rest. Having always pushed myself, working and playing hard, prior (and probably causally related) to succumbing to ME, I do worry that some people ill-advisedly over exert themselves rather than listening to their bodies and ensuring they always have some stamina in reserve.

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Encountering ME - a selection of poems, reflecting my experience of living with moderate ME can be read online or available as a free download from Scribd.

Mal’s ME Jottings – a selection of blog posts are also available on Scribd – read online or available as a free download.

  

remembering Maggie - her legacy lingers on - poetry

 

ConDem Nation

 

 

 

First we eliminate

all job security -

ensure

 

all contracts

can be terminated

on a whim.

 

 

Knowing

that work makes free

we guarantee

 

the long term unemployed

will do these jobs

unpaid

 

 

 

Malcolm Evison

7 November 2010

 

 

 

MAMMON

(creator of social divisiveness)

 

 

Behold the god of lies

taker of lives

maker and breaker

 

of dreams -

creator god

who captivates

 

the mind -

spins webs

of treachery

 

replaces hope

with greed

installs himself

 

in all the highest places

proudly proclaims

there is no god but me

 

and we

fall for the party line.

 

 

 

 

Malcolm Evison

2 May 2010

 

 

 

  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

  14 July 1987

Reposted on Mal's Factory

The Leicester car park skeleton having been positively identified as that of Richard III, the last Plantagenet king,

I deemed it appropriate to repost the poem

'Mission Betrayed' [Redemore 22 August 1485],

on 'Mal's Factory'

it was thirty two years ago today - 8 December '80

This poem was an impromptu response to hearing the news:

        

IN MEMORIAM

 

They say imagine

no more humane songs

and this at Christmas –

 

the fir trees baubles

weighted many-fold

like lead. He finds

 

his final peace

through this destruction –

no longer shall he ache

 

for universal love.

Crushed like a beetle

closer to Colorado

 

than his scouser’s home.

 

Perhaps gun-toting Reagan

will sleep in peace, relieved

at another “pinko’s” demise.

 

             Malcolm Evison – 9 December 1980

it's just another day at Mal's Factory

What was to be a new blog post, just another day, turned out to be a poem. It can be found on 'Mal's Factory'

three poems 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

TRANSFORMED

(for Helen)

Right now I feel

the urge to scream

forget the aching limbs

dance deftly

on the brim

of my emotions.

Right now

I feel the lure of love

the light

that breaches

my stoical defence.

I see your face

I glow with joy -

right now

there is no you or I

as we rejoice.

Right now I am

alive with you -

I feel -

imbibe the air of this

our perfect world.

                                      Malcolm Evison

 

EMBRACE

Wrapped in each other                     

we break illusions

of our separateness.

As bodies merge

we lose location

finding our place

in vaster schemes.

Thanksgiving, sanctified

with each embrace,

transmits a joy

beyond our reckonings.

Today

love knows no bounds.

                                Malcolm Evison

Two New Poems on 'Mal's Factory'

I've posted two new poems - "SHATTERED" and "3.00am message to myself" - on 'MAL's FACTORY'

More on 'Mal's Factory'

I have just posted 'A Poem to Secular Jesus', both text and video, to my Mal's Factory weblog

a recent poem ex 'Mal's Factory'

Restless Night


frantic and static
collude
to break the spirit -


the chorussed scream
of roll and stretch
weaves counterpoint


against the searing ache
of stasis -
the chinese burn


of movement
resists
the planned escape



                         Malcolm Evison
                      30/01/11 – 01/02/11