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)

Newborn conker

Chestnut gleam

White top hat

Shines autumn sheen

Boys delight

To wait for fall

Victors conqueror

Conquests enthrall

Oh that shimmer

Lasts but a day

Before they harden

For battles play

 

Conker 10.10.2012

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

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

Cuddling you,

is like a mathematical equation.

All elbows and angles,

spoonerisms and square brackets.

Just as a

parent he sis-

te-math-ically

square routes,

and exponentially

asterisks the mattress,

to become algebra

beyond my comprehension;

yet squared and integrated,

your obtuse, hypotenuse,

is surely a sine

that we can tessellate,

calculate and co-ordinate,

affirmative action,

and solve

an alternative angle,

between curves.

The geometry of

cardinal em-braces,

satisfies the

conjugated,

conjugal,

bed.

© Calculating Cuddles 05.04.2013

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

The Grand Challenge Equations: San Diego Supercomputer Center (Photo credit: dullhunk)

The geese flew north­ward home,
as the rains came down and quenched the ground,
and the winds bemoaned a lullaby.

The trees bowed down their lofty tops,
and the sun­burned leaves fan­dango farewell,
as the geese flew north­ward home.

The rivers rushed down to greet them,
and the curlews cried and cheered them on,
as the geese flew north­ward home.

Ticker tape leaves lay out a parade,
with a car­pet of clouds to has­ten their way,
as the geese flew north­ward home.

They squadroned a skein of for­ma­tions,
and the cur­rents caressed their wings,
The brown and black Peaks, to match their beaks,
as they flew north­wards home.

© Alexan­dra Carr-​​Malcolm 2015

Picture credit:https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/460985711831792188/

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