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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.




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