30 Sunday Sep 2012
Posted in Poetry
And now it’s time,
to go to bed,
‘cause I’m a tired,
teddy head.
A giant yawn,
I rub my eyes,
it’s time to go,
to beddy byes.
Up the wooden
hill I go,
to throw some Zzz’s,
and dream of you!
© Beddy Byes 30.09.2012
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
English: Greater Swiss Mountain Dog puppy sleeping. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
29 Saturday Sep 2012
Wowee – this is Amazing – a ‘must’ read – blown away!!!
29 Saturday Sep 2012
Posted in Daily life, Humour, Poetry
Tags
ageing, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, comfort, feet, lost childhood, poetry, slippers, toes, youth
Wearing slippers,
is an old bird thing…
For when once young,
naked feet would spring,
through dew grass sweet,
and street baked heat.
As the years soon decline,
bare feet, though sublime,
our child’s heart now subdued,
we reach for comfort of our shoes.
No more feet, wet and wild,
as I did when a child.
Now I groan out of bed,
feeling old and half dead,
toasty toes hit cold floor,
then I crave for the allure,
of my slippers cosy warm,
safe from harm,
of cold chills,
and spikey ills,
that can harm footsies,
or stubbed tootsies.
Yes – I can attest,
that my slippers,
are the best!
© A Tribute to my Slippers 29.09.2012
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Everybody needs a pair of these. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
29 Saturday Sep 2012
Posted in Deep Stuff!, Poetry
Tags
Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, depression, grief, mental illness, nerves, nervous breakdown, poetry, stress
Sitting on a razors edge,
cheese wire nerves,
cut through my head,
nails down blackboard,
sing the blues,
grated knuckles,
grief ensues,
nails to quick,
knots pulled tight,
butterflies,
and sleepless nights,
steeped in fear,
low self-esteem;
wake me now,
from this bad dream.
© Razor’s Edge 29.09.2012
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
28 Friday Sep 2012
Posted in Daily life, Poetry
Tags
Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, Brake, brakes, metal, poetry, Rail, Rail transport, railway, railway station, rural, Siding (rail), stations, steel, Track (rail transport), train, Transport, urban, wasteground
Industrial wastage,
with rust iron landscape,
electronic call, signals
an urban escape.
Waterfall ferns,
on railway sidings,
squealing of brakes,
as wheels start sliding.
Flashes of night,
as tunnels become us,
roar of the engine,
as stations flash from us.
Metal on metal,
turn wheels of steel,
the smell of the diesel,
the brakes grind and squeal.
© Railway Sidings 28.09.2012
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Brake chain (Photo credit: slambo_42)
28 Friday Sep 2012
Posted in Daily life, Poetry
Tags
Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, autumn, fall, knobbly knees, nicotine, poetry, trees, twigs
Matchmaker trees,
trunks of knobbly knees,
arthritic twigs,
that creak in the breeze.
A splutter of leaves,
yellowed nicotine trees,
the breath of a smoker,
lets out a wheeze.
We’re dying, they weep,
as autumn does creep,
within crispy veins,
as they lay down to sleep.
© Trees 28.09.2012
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Ash Tree in Fall (Photo credit: hz536n/George Thomas)
23 Sunday Sep 2012
Posted in Buddhism, Daily life, Poetry
Learn to keep quiet,
and learn to keep still,
‘cause no one can hear you,
and nobody will.
Learn to be silent,
and watch what you say,
it’s not all about you,
it’s not, ‘Alex Day’.
No one is interested,
in all that you do,
no one is bothered,
except, maybe you?
© Shhh… 23.09.2012
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
dropped blue (Photo credit: renwest)
20 Thursday Sep 2012
Posted in Daily life, Humour, Poetry
I stuck my toe up the bath tap,
I know what you’re thinking,
it didn’t get trapped.
I wriggled it about,
then pulled back down –
and to my surprise,
it was mucky and brown!
© Bath Taps and Toes 20.09.2012
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
20 Thursday Sep 2012
Posted in Buddhism, Deep Stuff!, Poetry
I fear I have broken me,
there is no going back;
I’ve wandered too far,
down this treacherous track.
I strayed here, eyes open,
and couldn’t return,
conditions remaining,
the habit is firm.
I dream of a future,
where I am alone,
asleep with eyes open,
conditioning gone.
© Bad Habits 20.09.2012
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
English: “The removal of the cracked melting pot” (1884), painting by Constantin Meunier (1831-1905) Royal Museum of Fine Arts, Brussels, Belgium (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
15 Saturday Sep 2012
Posted in Poetry
One summer’s day,
they strolled by the sea,
hand holding hand,
Dave and Carole Withany.
The seagulls they circled,
and the sea it did sigh,
an idea did emerge,
as Carole watched them fly by.
She looked up to the heavens,
excited she declared,
give me 50p
and that’s your bird there!
You’ll know Dave’s own seagull,
as it soars on the wing,
with a strong Yorkshire accent,
‘ee by gum’, it will sing.
Now legend still has it,
as myth is passed down,
that Dave’s special seagull,
has been seen in this town.
Now Dave is so happy,
and watches with glee,
for his very own seagull,
that cost 50p
© Carole Withany II (Dave’s Seagull) 15.09.2012
© Carole Withany 23.08.2012 (link)
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
English: An adult seagull (Larus michahellis) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Worldly Winds 