24 Saturday Nov 2018
Posted in Poetry
Ohhh I remember it so clearly!
They called you ‘big Dot’,
and I was ‘little Dot’,
you hated that.
Remember when,
on Christmas Eve,
chickenpox struck
with great malaise?
Granddad came to visit me,
and how he laughed,
and how he teased,
‘spotty Dotty’, he would say.
Remember the day, he came to play,
in his best green polka dot shirt?
‘Who’s spotty now?’
I shouted out loud.
You hit me,
it hurt.
© Dorothy 14.11.2013
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
17 Saturday Nov 2018
Posted in Poetry
In the midst of life
we are in death
clinging to tracts
as we let go of breath
Moros by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
2016
Picture Credit: https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/381820874641860209/
15 Thursday Nov 2018
Posted in Poetry
I fill the world with words
so you can’t find me
in a tangle of text
hiding in lex-
-ical tom
foolery
silently
spoken, yet
shards in the heart
worlds far apart from
where I retreat to sanctuary
© Tomfooleries 14.07.2013
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
11 Sunday Nov 2018
Posted in Buddhism, Death, Deep Stuff!, Grief, Heartbreak, Love, Poetry
Tags
Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, Bhante, poetry, Sangharakshita, Slan Abhaile, Worldly Winds poetry, Yorkshire poet
Yesterday I attended the funeral of my Buddhist teacher Urgyen Sangharakshita along with over 1200 other Buddhists. It was a beautiful, poignant, moving ceremony. I have never experienced anything as immense in my lifetime. Despite the heavy downpour of rain, the birds still sang, and the wind played in the autumn trees. By the time the procession to the burial ground took place, the sun came out and lifted the heavy skies.
I cannot adequately put into words my gratitude to Bhante. I met him twice, once at a shared meal at the Sheffield Buddhist Centre, and later in Birmingham (2011). He guided and inspired my Buddhist practice, and encouraged me to take my writing seriously. Without his guidance and teachings I doubt I would be where I am today.
How do I say thank you, and how do I say goodbye? I started to write this poem on the way down to the funeral and finished it on the way back. This poem relates to the loss of significant people in my life – Safe Home Bhante Urgyen Sangharaksita, go well.
Slán Abhaile
How do I say goodbye?
When I am living at the speed of life,
the eggshells I am walking on
pricking at my soul.
Remote and inaccessible,
with drawbridge raised to love,
how do I say goodbye?
The Trinity and Trilogy
conjoined in parse asymmetry,
seem so insignificant.
How do I say goodbye?
Slán Abhaile by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
10.11.18
05 Monday Nov 2018
Posted in Poetry
Copies still available either on Amazon or available direct from me ☺️
Good news!
The paperback version of Counting Magpies is imminent! I will also be releasing a limited edition edition. The limited edition will contain three bonus poems and will be signed by my own fair hand. If you choose, I will also hand write one of my poems of your choice inside the book.
In the meantime here is a poem from Counting Magpies – a sneak preview!
Click on the picture of the book to take you to Amazon.
War Child
War child, far child,
not in my back yard child,
foul flies, infesting eyes,
freely grief is advertised.
Blasé news, propaganda views,
stretchered to the blues and twos.
Feuding plans, dividing clans,
charity absolving man.
Splitting heads, landmines, legs,
rubberneck, the child who begs,
behind the eyes, traumatized,
rape and murder legitimized.
Arms and gear, year on year,
dealers, spreadsheets, profiteer,
bankers, warlords, politician,
making schisms, capitalism.
War…
View original post 20 more words
Worldly Winds 