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

An un-love poem isn’t a poem of hate, exactly — that might be a bit too shrill or boring. It’s more like a poem of sarcastic dislike. This is a good time to get in a good dig at people who chew with their mouth open, or always take the last oreo. If there’s no person you feel comfortable un-loving, maybe there’s a phenomenon? Like squirrels that eat your tomatoes.

I love thee,

as the dog loves the flea,

as the horse loves the tick,

you make me sick!

© Un-Love Poem 15.04.2013

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Holograph clouds

hang in a

blue riband sky

splintered memories

scudding fly

clear cobalt mind

troubled by

those left behind

cogitating

precipitating

Indian summers

that never come

loves lived and lost

but never won

twilight transcends

stargazing nights

Juliet’s blight

heartbreak

crowns

the

air

© Juliet’s Blight 18.05.2013

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Juliet (Photo credit: Wikipedia)