Keep making noise

Let's not rule anything out

So last night, this happened.

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At what point have I invited attention here? Or is it the case that I’ve got my head down, keys between my fingers in my pocket, ignoring my boyfriend’s text messages lest I become distracted and vulnerable, trying to simply get the fuck home? It doesn’t matter, because as a woman on the street – a public space and by default a male space – I’m fair game.

The narrative between my female friends and I is tedious and exhausting. ‘I’m sorry you had to go through that’, we say with almost weekly-regularity. ‘That’s shit’. ‘Are you okay?’ ‘At least you got home safe’. At least you got home safe. Like the entirely feasible and almost unsurprising alternative is not getting home safe, and if you’re aware of my back story you’ll know that actually, not getting home safe is a very real and possible…

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WoMan Flu

I’m feeling much better after a restful weekend – I thought I’d share this silly poem🙂

 

A poet with a head cold

is not so good to see

fuelled by Olbas and by Vicks

tissues to fell a tree

 

Cannot think of words to write

has lost their sense of meter

rhymes won’t work and sPeLing’s gone

it could be writ much neater

 

My brain’s contracted that’s 4 sure

and poems just turn out grotty

So I’ll just snuggle in my bed

and knock back ten hot toddies

 

© WoMan Flu 21.10.2013

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Found my voice!

After a week of some virusy cough thing, it was time for my first appearance at Verse Matters in Sheffield. Fortunately my voice held out, the audience was kind and friendly, and the performers were spectacular! What a great night. 

The venue is also quirky and magical. The Theatre Delicatessen on the Moor in Sheffield city centre – formerly the old Woolworths building, plays host to many arts events. Lit by magical twinkling fairy lights, and an array of chairs and armchairs, it sets the perfect ambience. 

I did four poems –

Change

Parris

Death of a Minor

Big Pants
They were all kindly received. What a great night!

Soldier On

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Oh dear… I seem to have a summer cold! How does that happen? Only one thing for it – A Duvet Day! I thought I would share this golden oldie, it always makes me smile!

go-on-without-me-kitten-humor-demotivational-posters-1325286199-e1328375882666

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Farewell cruel world,

I’m leaving you,

it’s not a cold,

I’ve got the ‘flu.

 

It may well be,

my final breath,

my nose is red,

I feel like death.

 

Please don’t mourn,

when I am gone,

go on without me…

soldier on!

 

© Soldier On…  03.11.2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Photo Credit : http://9laughs.com/go-on-without-me/

Flitting, poem by Alex Carr-Malcolm (WHEN I MOVED Poetry and Prose Series)

Silver Birch Press

Carr-MalcolmFlitting
by Alex Carr-Malcolm

The birds ceased to sing
from the day we were condemned.
Our underpinning corroded,
pulling the floor from under us,
everything subsided, along with our dreams.

The floors had started to slope,
and the cracks no longer hidden.

My beautiful childhood home —
Twenty-two rooms, orchards, greens, woods,
and a church at the bottom of the garden.

I kissed the cross, and all four walls,
before my dreams were demolished.

Re-housed in a flat-line estate
council regulation green and avocado,
five rooms and no soul,
the transistor, tinny tune,
Where’s your Mama gone?
echoing in my heart.

PHOTO: Hazlehurst, Hasland, Derbyshire — The author’s childhood home.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: My mother was a caretaker of a beautiful Georgian house — once a vicarage. It was a day centre for ex-miners who had been disabled at work; it was also offices for the Coalite Company (Ciswo)…

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Call for submissions: MY PRIZED POSSESSION Poetry and Prose Series

Silver Birch Press

prized logo1OVERVIEW: Many of you have a prized possession — something with wonderful memories attached, an item of great beauty, or something simple that brings joy (I love my vintage mixing bowls). We want to hear about your prized possession in a poem or story — it could be something you received during your childhood or a knick-knack you found at a yard sale last week, with substantial or little monetary value. We’re looking for poems and stories about concrete objects — so avoid abstract prized possessions (such as health, fitness, or sobriety).

PROMPT: Tell us about your prized possession in a poem (any reasonable length) or prose piece (300 words or fewer — this word limit also applies to prose poems). The piece should tell the reader about your prized possession — how you obtained the item and why it means so much to you. (Just one item — if…

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