Sat here writing,

drinking a brew;

weaving words,

for a poem, or two.

Feel my craft,

a magical spell,

casting its net,

as you sample my hell.

I’ll spin you a line,

to make you feel good,

a twist at the end,

to chill the blood.

© Friday Night 2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Betwixt and between,

the poem and the dream,

the light and the night,

flows the unconscious stream.

Words play in my head,

from the land of the dead,

the stars and the moon,

hold the gossamer thread.

© Gossamer Dreams 11.02.2013

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Photo Credit – unknown – if this is your picture and you want it removed or credited to you, please do not hesitate to contact me.

This is the final piece from the poetry workshop. The final piece was inspired by Maitreyabandhu’s ‘The Bond’

The idea was to give a feel of anticipation of an impending visit, and use Maitreyabandhu’s closing phrase of, ‘Just the air’, within the poem.

Just the Air

All is still…

and I am present,

caught between two worlds,

just the air as our witness,

and a pillow of dreams

as darkest night unfurls.

I smell your sickly lily scent,

of cigarettes and light Chanel.

Why do you come?

What do you want?

Forgiveness or

remembrance,

from your little girl?

You left in anger

not once, but twice.

So why return

in darkest night,

when you’ve been gone,

these eight years long?

© Just the Air 22.03.2013

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

English: Moon (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The next few poems were written on a poetry day. The first poem is inspired from R.S.V.P. by Beverley Nadin. The task was to write a list of items that we packed to take on our last retreat, and then include some of them in a poem. This was my attempt 🙂

Three books,

one red, one blue, one black,

Poetry, Dharma and Drama.

A pencil and pen,

backed up with a spare,

(thank God for my Kindle!)

and a brush for my hair.

My potions and pills,

(no nightie with frills)

Just good solid thermals!

Pyjamas and socks

squashed in a bag,

and no need for locks,

as I’m escaping to freedom;

leave humdrum at home.

I’m longing for space,

and a room of one’s own.

©Three Books 10.03.2013

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Bell, Virginia Woolf (Photo credit: Wikipedia)