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Philomena

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This is dedicated to Philomena Lynott. Go well lovely lady.

I wrote this poem in 2016.  I contacted Philomena and asked if it would be alright for me to use ‘Parris’  as the title to my third anthology, as a tribute to her son Philip Parris Lynott.

Phil Lynott as a poet, musician, and singer had a profound impact in my teenage years. The words, music, and mythology intertwined with my complicated and troubled adolescence, getting me through some tough and heartbreaking years.

When I had finished the anthology I sent it to her for her approval. I was really nervous and hoped she would like it. She contacted me to say she loved it. I was both elated and relieved.

Such a beautiful and inspirational lady, I am so glad we had a connection and I got to meet you. You will always be remembered, loved, and an inspiration to us all.

 

Philomena

 

She stepped into the world

in an ill-fitting skin,

and fashioned a coat of shame,

woven with silks gossamer thin,

dip dyed with hues of blame.

 

Buttoned up with mismatched memories,

with her pockets full of dreams,

hemmed in, hemmed up, Portofino cuff,

stitched up by a seamstress’s seam.

One day she said, enough is enough!

 

and slipped off that coat infame,

she had grown right in to the ill-fitting skin,

so she crafted herself an new name.

Finally freed from her widow’s weeds,

she called to the Dakinis within.

 

The moon and the sun in a syzygy dance,

to the tune of the neap tide seas,

coronate crown of abalone shell,

with a cloak of Etesian breeze,

she plucked the lightning out of the skies,

 

and collected her juvenile tears,

forging an armour from Hadesian hell,

annealed in Elysian fields,

protector of Phthinoporon souls.

She learned to wear her life well.

 

Philomena by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

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Memory Lane

Worldly Winds

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electric guitars

trysts in cafe bars

balmy summer days

memory’s a deep purple haze

thirty years of I love you’s

Pearl teardrops soak through

LP’s and RP’s

Creme Eggs and Smarties

he’s not you

that much is true

and I’m not her

old flames

inflamed

© Memory Lane 14.11.2013

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Picture Credit: https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/240238961343388899/

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I am doing this for you II

Worldly Winds

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I am doing this for you,

and for those who never made it,

those who fell by the wayside,

and those who simply gave up.

I am doing this for you,

so I can hold your hand

and be a bigger vessel,

to hold the pain and tears.

I am doing this for you,

to be the one gone forth,

because by doing it for you,

I am doing it for myself too.

© I am doing this for you II 09.04.2015

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Photo credit: https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/97320041923123290/

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Trees

Worldly Winds

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Matchmaker trees,

trunks of knobbly knees,

arthritic twigs,

that creak in the breeze.

A splutter of leaves,

yellowed nicotine trees,

the breath of a smoker,

lets out a wheeze.

We’re dying, they weep,

as autumn does creep,

within crispy veins,

as they lay down to sleep.

© Trees 28.09.2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Ash Tree in Fall (Photo credit: hz536n/George Thomas)

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Mother Came to Stay

For my mum, 14 years gone.

Worldly Winds

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It’s been ten years long,

since you passed away,

and then you decided,

you’d come to stay.

I was shocked,

when I saw you;

you know,

I adore you.

You never announced,

you’d arrive today,

you bounced straight in,

in your usual way,

announced to me,

you’d come to stay,

gave me a start,

unpacked your bags

and moved into my heart.

© Mother Came to Stay 08.04.2015

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Picture Credit: https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/39547302953922258/

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