20 Sunday Jan 2019
Posted in Poetry
For my mum, 14 years gone.
It’s been ten years long,
since you passed away,
and then you decided,
you’d come to stay.
I was shocked,
when I saw you;
you know,
I adore you.
You never announced,
you’d arrive today,
you bounced straight in,
in your usual way,
announced to me,
you’d come to stay,
gave me a start,
unpacked your bags
and moved into my heart.
© Mother Came to Stay 08.04.2015
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Picture Credit: https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/39547302953922258/
05 Saturday Jan 2019
Posted in Poetry
04 Friday Jan 2019
Posted in Poetry
31 Monday Dec 2018
Posted in Poetry
From a writer’s point of view here are my top 9 pics of 2018.
May 2019 bring health, happiness and love. Thank you for following Worldly Winds Poetry. Much love 💚💚
24 Monday Dec 2018
Posted in Poetry
Wishing you all a very merry Christmas. Hope 2019 brings you a safe, happy, healthy New Year for you and yours xxxxx
08 Saturday Dec 2018
Posted in Poetry
It is a stormy night, and I have just driven home over the Woodhead Pass – one of the inspirations for this poem. It seemed apt to repost.
I remember the daily grind through the Peaks;
from Hillsborough to hospice.
Morphine induced twilight hours,
brittle brown heather hair,
cascading watery cataracts,
crashing, weeping, winding.
I know each bend like the veins in my hand;
the outcrops and falling rocks.
Spray from the lorries,
thrown up, muddy teardrops,
sliding down the windscreen,
breaking limits, breaking hearts.
This is the road to hell.
© Death of a Minor 24.05.2014
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Photo credit : photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/romeo66/2101025633/”>Romeo66</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>cc</a>
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
