Fair Days and Foul


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My tummy feels like summer,

or a giggle just set free,

like a flitter of lairy butterflies,

or a swarm of buzzy bees.


My heart beats to the rhythm,

of girls who jump the rope,

bouncing like a bright beach ball,

shown on some Oscilloscope.


My mind spins like the waltzer,

at a gaily lit up fair.

My head is full of candy floss,

and kites that surf the air.


If I could catch the essence,

and save a jar or two,

I’d keep them in my cupboard,

for when I’m feeling blue.


© Fair Days and Foul 2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Picture Credit:https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/503347695827272788/



My Boy


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That is my boy.


The one you shot,

the one you smote,

the Bactrian one

whose back you broke.


That is my boy.


The one you left

for dead in a cell,

who jerked and seized,

you thought he signed well.


That is my boy.


The one who is Deaf,

frogmarched and chained,

not understood,

his language restrained.


That is my boy.


The one who is ill,

as you bore down on his chest,

you broke his heart,

along with the rest.


That is my boy.


The one who is black,

the one who is white,

the one left hanging,

in a cell out of sight.


That is my boy.


The one you shot,

the one you smote,

the Bactrian one

whose back you broke.


That is my boy,

and it is your boy too.


© My Boy 18.05.2015

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Picture Credit:https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/306667055852311916/

Picture Credit: Found on sliptalk.com

This art installation was erected by South African artist Marco Cianfanelli, stands on the spot where Nelson Mandela was arrested 50 years ago. The monument is constructed out of 50 separate steel bars to represent 50 years since the capture.



Child Within by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm (Me, as a Child Poetry Series)

Originally posted on Silver Birch Press:

Child Within
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

I see the child within you,
with your boyish short fair hair.
I hold my arms out to you,
I want to show I care.

They may have left you
broken, bewildered and abused,
but I will never leave you
feeling neglected, sad and used.

You stand there like a ghost child,
one sock up and one half down.
too sad, too shy, too quiet,
Your face a pale, sad, frown.

Your little dress is crass and short,
your shoes are scuffed and worn,
your toys are few and far between,
your bear, one-eyed and torn.

I see you quietly playing.
keep out the grown-ups way,
don’t let them know of what you think,
they cannot make you say.

Come child, sit here upon my knee,
Let me soothe away the pain;
cry out your little heart to me,
they can’t hurt you again.


View original 233 more words



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Six sisters sailed into the world,

wide eyed and Brodie primed,

each on a quest and unprepared,

Pioneers before their time.


Some went in search of a rare red rose,

and others, too soon, gone;

they failed to find their mustard seed,

that would take them safely home.


Watched over by St Helena,

throughout their autumn years,

past lives and loves, and trials above,

spring cherry blossom tears.


Procrustean lives, we onward strive,

to be the crème de la crème,

through all the tears and ebbing years,

we’d do it all again.


Decades gone as life moves on,

has it been for the greater good?

The Cardinal flight, with the Spire in sight,

where we seal our sisterhood.


© Sisterhood 13.05.2015

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Picture Credit:https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/340373684311568750/






This poem is inspired by and dedicated to Ann Proctor, Belinda Foncree, Rebecca Hewitt, Josie Davies and Lynn Ankrett – Five amazing ladies, we weather the worldly winds together <3

Buddha Day


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Buddha mind

Burning bright

Searing serenity

Luminous light.


Buddha eyes

Warrior’s way

Diamond depth

Gentle gaze.


Buddha nature

Human heart

Sangha sings




© Buddha Day 2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Picture credit:https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/417920040393395405/

Found on imgur.com


The Old Gunner


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In light of the political disappointment today, I thought I’d share this poem again. I can’t begin to express my disappointment that we have to endure another five years of austerity cuts which seem to hit the most vulnerable people in society. Only hours after the results the DWP announce that ATW for the disabled will be severely cut.







The Old Gunner

Last one to go down

Fighting hard

A shooting star

Bucks the trend

Yet to what end?

Keep your feet to the fire

Squash the poor man down

Loopholes and promises

It’s gunner change

It’s gunner end

Taxing the senses

Try hard to pretend

Banking your pence’s

And yet to what end?

Ground moonbeams roasted

And fed to the masses

Who don’t ask questions

Morals and molasses

Standoff at Dodge City

Ten paces at dawn

Ethical genocide

Battle lines drawn

Highway robbery

Caffeine snobbery

Dead man’s boots

Amazonian roots

The Old Gunner

Last one to go down

Fighting hard

A shooting star

Bucks the trend

Yet to what end?


© The Old Gunner 21.02.2013

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Picture Credit:Cowboy (Photo credit: Kevin Zollman)




Never Trust a Faerie

Originally posted on Worldly Winds:

English: Title: &quot;Fairies Looking Through ...

Never trust a faerie,

‘tho pretty they may seem,

for when you are not looking,

they swear, and spit, and scream.

Do not be fooled by faerie’s,

their legendry looks well known,

they are not sweet, like in the books,

so please do not be thrown.

Depicted as the sweetest sight,

with wings that flitter and flutter,

dresses made of gossamer,

they melt your heart like butter.

It’s little known that faeries bite,

or that they would cause harm;

please don’t blame the insects,

for that nip upon your arm.

With golden curls that tumble down,

around their tiny frame,

with mischief and with sabotage,

the faeries are to blame.

When things go wrong around the house,

you know they are at play,

they wreck your plans, and break your things,

and ruin a good day.

You may think it is admirable,

they collect teeth from your mouth,

but how…

View original 41 more words




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If you enjoyed following NaPoWriMo15 – below is an archive of my poems over the month. I hope you have enjoyed reading them as much as I have enjoyed writing them :)

1. Oh Dear What Can the Matter Be?
2. Meditation
3. Night Star
4. Tears
5. Morning Glory
6. A Love Limerick
7. Perfect Score
8. Mother Came to Stay
9. I am doing this for you II
10. Intoxication
11. Cherish
12. Finding the Silent Ones
13. When Spiders Strike
14. Poet
15. Melpomene
16. It’s Not Easy Being Me
17. The Queen’s Dreams
18. Carole Withany (Series)
19. The Hula Hoop of Hindrance
20. Homecoming
21. Memory Lane
22. Cinnabar Wings
23. Where this is that becomes
24. Morning Hare – Haiku
25. The Waiting Game
26. Waiting For Morning to Come
27. What If?
28. Seagulls – Haiku
29. Abandoned Angels
30. Muse – Haiku


Picture Credit:Found on brookegiannetti.typepad.com

A Big Old Hug


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No that NaPoWriMo15 is at an end, I would like to say a big thank you for all of you who have visited and read my contributions to this year’s National Poetry Writing Month :)


I’m sorry if I don’t get to you,

I apologise, I’m slow,

four hundred plus emails,

my inbox about to blow!


I know I’m not quite regular,

at times I can be slack;

I promise I’ll try to visit you,

and leave a message back!


The spam thing – what’s all that about?

Messages, I just don’t get??

Enlarge my what?!! Increase my stats?!

Delete, delete, forget!!


I try my best, I really do,

so many blogs to read,

It’s becoming like a full time job,

an assistant, I so need!


I’d like to say to everyone,

who’s liked or followed me,

to each I’d give a big old hug,

you’ve all inspired me!!


© A Big Old Hug 2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Muse – Haiku


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Melodious mantra

Mellifluous muse

Macarism misconstrued


© Muse 31.12.12

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Picture Credit:https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/206743439113960968/








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