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Worldly Winds

Category Archives: Death

Slán Abhaile

11 Sunday Nov 2018

Posted by Worldly Winds in Buddhism, Death, Deep Stuff!, Grief, Heartbreak, Love, Poetry

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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.

20181110_155143~2

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

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Mum

28 Thursday Jun 2018

Posted by Worldly Winds in Death, Poetry

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poetry, loss, Mum, poetry, writing

March 69 Mum and me

For my Mum…

 

I looked through the window,

I thought I saw you;

just a hint of a memory

that I wanted to view.

 

A past life once lived;

a deep memory pain.

I had to control myself

from calling your name.

 

Her walk was all wrong

and her hair, not the same,

but she had the same clothes

as I saw in my dream.

 

I followed behind her

and hoped to see

that it really was you

as you used to be.

 

I knew it was futile

and couldn’t be true;

you’ve been gone these six years,

it couldn’t be you.

 

© Mum 2012

Alexandra Carr-Malcolm 2012

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I Am Doing This For You

15 Saturday Jul 2017

Posted by Worldly Winds in Childhood Memories, Death, Poetry

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poetry, cancer, Chesterfield, death, Hasland, poetry, St Paul's Church Hasland, Worldly Winds poetry, writing

St Paul's

I remember you…

Your tiny frame full of fearlessness,

teaching the universe,

the ways of the warrior.

 

We met in the church choir;

I was eight and you were six.

I am white and you were black,

already born to fight life’s prejudice.

 

Even then I was frightened;

cancer had claimed so many,

but they were old,

and you were six.

 

Do you remember the wedding?

Suited and booted, in cassock and gown,

you lifted your wig,

and the horror it caused.

 

I was only eight,

but I prayed for days and nights,

that God would give me your cancer,

and let you live…

He never did.

 

I heard your story, at the end,

it hurt for you to be held,

your mummy and daddy wept

whilst you comforted them.

 

You asked them not to cry,

and you said you’d be alright.

You never came back to choir.

Not long after, you died.

 

It was at this very time,

I stopped believing in God,

he never answered my prayer,

your prayer, or theirs.

 

I still remember you…

your tiny frame full of fearlessness,

and how we giggled as girls,

when you doffed your wig to the world.

 

© I am doing this for you 16.06.2014

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Photo Credit: Dave Bevishttp://www.drbevis.demon.co.uk/CILAAA01.htm

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Venus

26 Wednesday Apr 2017

Posted by Worldly Winds in Death, Loss, NaPoWriMo17, Poetry

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Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poetry, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm Venus, poetry, Venus, Worldly Winds poetry

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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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Dolor

22 Saturday Apr 2017

Posted by Worldly Winds in Death, NaPoWriMo17, Poetry

≈ 3 Comments

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Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm Dolor, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poetry, Dolor, poetry

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

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Purple Haze

20 Thursday Apr 2017

Posted by Worldly Winds in Death, Loss, NaPoWriMo17, Poetry

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poetry, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm Purple Haze, poetry, Purple Haze, Worldly Winds poetry

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It is strange to think,

the last time I was here,

we walked together.

Rock on my friend, rock on.

 

I wear your jacket with pride,

stitched with love and memories.

Wear life, live, and love,

 

You leave a friend

shaped hole in my heart.

 

Farewell my friend;

go well,

fly far.

 

Purple Haze by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

December 2016

Picture Credit: http://irecallthepushmorethanthefall.tumblr.com/post/23345845320

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Moros

11 Tuesday Apr 2017

Posted by Worldly Winds in Death, Deep Stuff!, NaPoWriMo17, Poetry

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm Moros, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poetry, gothic, Gothic poetry, metaphysical, Moros, poetry

7b652c58f75b8e9b89c63cca98a63141 (1)

 

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/

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We Three

28 Wednesday Dec 2016

Posted by Worldly Winds in Childhood Memories, Death, Grief, Loss, Poetry

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Alex Carr-Malcolm poetry, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poet, death, grief, loss, poetry

I originally wrote this poem for a project I am working on at the moment. Last week I found out a good friend had passed away, and this poem seemed a fitting tribute to a gentle, kind, and dear friend. Go well good friend – go well.

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We walked on the beach,

my friend, the dog, and me;

looked out to the seas,

and plotted our dreams,

my friend, the dog, and me.

 

We danced on the beach,

my friend, the dog, and me;

we thanked lucky stars,

couldn’t believe where we are,

my friend, the dog, and me.

 

We strolled on the beach,

my friend, the dog, and me,

we sat in the dunes,

reflecting on tunes,

my friend, the dog, and me.

 

We stood on the beach,

my friend, and me;

wondering where the time had gone,

and how life had moved on,

my friend, and me.

 

Looking back at the beach,

just me;

the gulls mourn the song,

of where it all went wrong,

just me — and my memories.

 

© We Three October 2016

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

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War Child

05 Saturday Dec 2015

Posted by Worldly Winds in Anger, Death, Poetry, Publications

≈ 18 Comments

Tags

Alex Carr-Malcolm Counting Magpies, Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alex Carr-Malcolm poetry, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, Counting Magpies, Counting Magpies Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, Counting Magpies Anthology, Counting Magpies Poetry, Counting Magpies War Child, poetry, UK poet, war, War Child, War Child Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, war poetry, writing, Yorkshire poet

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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 child, far child,

not in my back yard child.

 

© War Child by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Taken from Counting Magpies 2015

 

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Vanessa

21 Saturday Nov 2015

Posted by Worldly Winds in Anger, Death, Poetry

≈ 17 Comments

Tags

Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alex Carr-Malcolm Vanessa, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, death, grief, heartbreak, poetry, Rape, Suicide, Yorkshire poet

95ee650c5be9686ac432b0eef3cf3877

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh Vanessa, Vanessa,

where do you get off?

with your dark overlord poetry,

another trendy hip goth.

Vampiric feasting from honest dark grief,

poetic death porn, for your gratuitous relief.

Stand up! Stand up! You superstar!

Perform and pose, so we see who you are.

Don’t think of your morals, your duty, or ethics,

just another shock jock out to get your death fix.

Don’t think of the victims, dead or alive,

those with slashed apart souls just trying to strive,

to cope with the day and get through to the end,

with ripped apart lives that can never mend;

trying to breathe, lungs molten with mourning,

to those who’ve met death without prior warning,

who’ve stood at the edge of the gaping abyss,

and see your floor show for the ego fix that is.

Just think of your creed, your name and your art,

don’t care for the wake of what’s torn apart.

After all – responsibility – is it all yours?

Oh no – surely not – you perform for your cause!

I’ll remember your face and your soft slick show,

as you pose to the kids on your high pedestal;

but the audience was captive, no choice in the matter,

as you trotted out mentally destructive chatter.

Stuck on the front in the audience stare,

in a flashback that rendered me froze to the chair,

reliving the horror, of the cruelty of death,

the pain and the agony spewed from your breath.

Did you even know what you had done?

either ignorance, or intended, it can’t be undone.

You’ve uncaged a monster that now preys on my mind,

I cannot conceive someone can be that unkind,

So that takes me to ignorance, and the stupidity is,

Oh Vanessa, Vanessa, it was you that did this.

 

© Vanessa 25.11.2014

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Picture credit: Pinteresthttps://uk.pinterest.com/pin/524317581589569768/

 

 

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