St Helena’s Reply

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Today has been the last day of NaPoWriMo – I have thoroughly enjoyed participating and enjoyed your responses and feedback.

As Promised – here is St Helena’s reply to yesterdays poem – enjoy!!

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St Helena’s Reply

 

Oh my dear, my poor sweet gal,

I did warn you of the dangers.

In my own archaic way,

I showed you men were stranger.

 

I made the rules, you were no fools!

I had to be quite cunning;

with your lip gloss and your skinny ties,

you were glamorous and stunning.

 

You wore the schoolgirl uniform,

of crimplene and nylon,

thick wool tights, and capes with stripes

polyester shirt with tie on.

 

No coloured hair, no coloured socks,

and shoes fit for the army,

A-Line skirts and gingham frocks,

the blazers drove you barmy.

 

The gym kit was my own idea,

with gore-tex tops – no glamour.

Navy knickers from knee to ear,

nothing stylish to enamour.

 

The school rule drill of measuring skirts,

two inch below the knee line,

needle and thread, we’ll have no flirts,

but still you rolled the waistline.

 

I heard you sing my Pioneer hymn,

and make up your own version,

Pie and Peas, Oh Pie and Peas,

was not an apt subversion.

 

But did you heed all that I said?

No – you were capricious, smart, and rowdy,

I did my best, you passed the test,

and I couldn’t be more prouder!

 

St Helena’s Reply by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

18.02.17

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St Helena

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A plea to St Helena – tomorrow you will see her reply!

St Helena 

Feast Day – August 18th

Born – 248, Drepanum, Bithynia, Asia Minor

Died – 328, Constantinople, Roman

Shrine location – St. Peter’s Basilica, Rome Italy

Patron of – Archaeologists  converts, difficult marriages, divorced people, empresses, Helena, the capital of Montana

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St Helena

 

Sisters stepped into a world

of red brick education,

grammar girls all Brodie primed,

watched over by St Helena.

 

You guarded us along the path

of teenage angst and dangers,

we sang your hymns of Pioneers,

of heroines and strangers.

 

Abiding by your arcane rules,

your holy cross you carried,

yet did you think of us as fools,

when one by one we married?

 

Did you laugh at our ideals

of romance and forever?

or were you ‘my dear’ forever near,

was it you who left the feathers?

 

One by one we fell apart,

as men they slowly went,

one by one each broken heart,

we had to learn to mend.

 

St Helena you did not say,

that life would be this tough,

I never thought I’d see the day,

when I’d scream enough’s enough!

 

Oh if I could turn back Father Time

and do it all again,

I would not moan, or whinge, or whine,

I’d love a million men!

 

St Helena by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

18.02.17

Absentia

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It took two bus rides to get to Matlock.

 

Panda eyed from stress and tears,

sofa surfing for days on end,

dirty, tacky, no baths,

just a lick and a spit at a strange sink.

 

Sat in a faceless office,

corporate men in their three piece suits,

reeking of gout, and blue with smoke,

lascivious, avuncular, pat on the hand.

 

You are sitting on a goldmine, one smirks.

Find yourself a rich sugar daddy.

Janis Joplin sings Summertime in my head,

as the fluorescent tubes buzz in harmony.

 

Parents in absentia,

humiliation and fear sting,

all this to get an education,

no give and take – no grant.

 

Decades on – I got my education,

 

With two kids in tow,

all off my own back, not needing

honey traps or gold spider’s webs,

I look back – I want to say –

 

I pity your wives and daughters!

Did you make them turn tricks,

to pay their way?

Or did you prey on school girls

to make your day?

 

Absentia by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

2016

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Baggage

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The day you died

I packed up my stuff

my music, my childhood

I grew up, quick and cold.

Everything gone,

joy, fun, my heart,

some thirty years on

I unlock the chambers

and start to unpack,

it is bittersweet.

Now I can go on,

I find peace,

reconciliation.

The present

becomes the past,

and I step aside,

and I step back,

and continue to unpack

my memories of you.

 

Baggage by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

23.12.16

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Venus

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She laid on her back

and stared at the stars;

the shiniest reminded her of you,

but they too are dead.

 

The dead stars shine the brightest

 

Venus by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

2016

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Chronos

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The cruelest price to pay,

to grow old

as you watch me

fade away.

 

To see each fracture,

each crease,

whilst watching from

the earth beneath.

 

Do not let me age

before your eyes,

do not let decay

befall the wise.

 

Take me now

upon your wings

raise me up

to higher things

 

Show me the stars,

and I’ll show you my heart,

my love for you,

will ne’er depart.

 

Chronos by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

2016

photo credit: pinterest – Grim Reaper

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Wind Shear

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my tectonic plate has shifted

my heart was in the middle

crushed beyond repair

 

my sanity shifts

along with the slipstream

and a cold front

eclipses

 

Wind Shear by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

2016

Picture Credit: https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/183029172332421195/

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Lone

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Of the woman –

mother and father to children;

who plastered walls, repaired teddy bears,

ran a business, ran a home, studied,

got a degree, did all three,

strong, independent, confident.

 

I am glad you are dead

and you did not witness the decay,

of each passing day.

 

Lone by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

2016

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Dolor

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You do not see my heart break

360,000 times an hour,

my stoop becomes more pronounced,

my eyes sink and my cheeks hollow.

 

You do not see each line and wrinkle

from each grief ridden second,

my hair and blood thinning,

as the light departs my eyes.

 

Golden sunbeam hair,

moonbeam eyes and cherry crescent lips,

butterflies in her shoes.

When we walked through farrowed fields,

solis and luna blended into aeons.

 

I am glad you did not stay,

to witness the decay of this life.

 

Dolor by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

2016

Picture Credit: https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/540643130240703030/

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Six Degrees of Sheffield

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Great city, city of my love,

city of Hendo’s, knives and cutlery,

of Arctic Monkeys, six degrees.

 

The Arts Tower beacon watches over

seven rivers, seven valleys

once clanged with grinding stones.

 

Great city, framed under grey skies,

touring bicycles, freewheeling

rewarded, great city, city of my love.

 

Six Degrees of Sheffield by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

2016

Picture Credit: https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/530087818615521613/

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