Acrostic.
Socially awkward
Poet
Evokes
Rhythmic
Genres
Encapsulating
Refrain in
Soliloquy.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Acrostic
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm 2017
Acrostic
01 Friday Sep 2017
Posted in Poetry
Howth
20 Sunday Aug 2017
Posted in Poetry
A fantastic day in Howth, celebrating the birthday of the great Phil Lynott. Fabulously talented musician played his music, and I even got my picture taken with The Queen of Ireland – Philomena Lynott.
The GPO Dublin
19 Saturday Aug 2017
Posted in Poetry
Dublin Adventures
18 Friday Aug 2017
Posted in Poetry
The Bash 2017
18 Friday Aug 2017
Posted in Poetry
We’ve arrived for the 2017 Bash in Dublin. Despite a frighteningly turbulent flight, we made it on one piece – phew!
The Northern Star Hotel is sumptuous and easily the best hotel I’ve ever stayed in!!
A Love Poem
06 Sunday Aug 2017
Posted in Poetry
You said you loved me from the start,
and in your hands you’d hold my heart.
So I will write a hundred lines,
and I will write a hundred times;
I must not be too literal.
I must not be too literal.
I must not be too literal…
So when you say you love my hair –
adore the sparkle in my eye,
I have no reason to believe you lie.
So just for you,
what I will do,
I shall make a gift to you.
My lustrous hair I will cut,
and Subha like my eye will pluck,
and in a box with my beating heart,
tied with a ribbon and a bow,
to you, these symbols, I bestow.
© A Love Poem 08.03.2014
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
(photocredit – photo Pin)
I Am Doing This For You
15 Saturday Jul 2017
Posted in Childhood Memories, Death, Poetry
Tags
Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poetry, cancer, Chesterfield, death, Hasland, poetry, St Paul's Church Hasland, Worldly Winds poetry, writing
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
Karen
12 Wednesday Jul 2017
Tags
Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poetry, childhood, poetry, Worldly Winds poetry, writing
She wore it and bore it,
like an ill-fitting coat,
a name duly bestowed,
from his mistress’s throat.
Obsessed by the curse,
not her familial name,
an unfortunate victim,
of his clandestine game.
Dad told her a story,
again and again,
she should have been Phillip,
not a girl, shy, and plain.
This was cold comfort,
to be given this news,
as he’d also died young,
singing the sugar blues.
The Carpenter’s coat –
she wore that one too,
a mismatched fit,
she shrank from view.
She pondered a name,
ambiguous, and strong,
a spiritual death,
yearning to belong.
As she grew older and wiser,
and tired of this fate,
tipping the scales,
the deed sealed her fate.
The mistress was smug,
as her mother boohooed,
to use her new name,
they still staunchly refused.
Karen’s long gone now,
victim, weak, and lame,
too scared of life,
wearing that coat of blame.
It still cuts to the quick,
to be labelled as Karen,
a hollow reminder,
a moniker barren.
My choice name is Alex,
my phoenix rebirth,
from mouse to lion,
a feeling of worth.
I am sorry mother,
we were all taken in,
by the maleficent blarney
and their original sin.
© Karen 01.06.2015
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
I’m Sorry
20 Tuesday Jun 2017
Posted in Poetry
Just a bit of silliness!
I’m sorry I used your toothbrush,
really I truly am.
I don’t know what came over me,
please don’t tell me Mam!
I really wasn’t thinking straight,
it was merely my mistake,
I saw it sat upon the sink,
it was the obvious choice to take.
A spur of the moment action,
to right some rancid breath,
a brush, a swill, to clear the air,
to prevent halitosis death.
I thought I was doing the right thing,
just to help out, you see?
To make his teeth go pearly white,
with breath all minty and clean.
I know it was quite wrong of me,
and it really wasn’t right,
but now at least the doggies teeth,
are clean and really white!
Smiling Dog (Photo credit: A. Davey)
© I’m Sorry 2012
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
St Helena’s Reply
30 Sunday Apr 2017
Posted in Humour, NaPoWriMo17, Poetry
Tags
Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poetry, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm St Helena's Reply, NaPoWriMo17, poetry, St Helena School Chesterfield, St Helena's Reply, Worldly Winds poetry
Today has been the last day of NaPoWriMo – I have thoroughly enjoyed participating and enjoyed your responses and feedback.
As Promised – here is St Helena’s reply to yesterdays poem – enjoy!!
St Helena’s Reply
Oh my dear, my poor sweet gal,
I did warn you of the dangers.
In my own archaic way,
I showed you men were stranger.
I made the rules, you were no fools!
I had to be quite cunning;
with your lip gloss and your skinny ties,
you were glamorous and stunning.
You wore the schoolgirl uniform,
of crimplene and nylon,
thick wool tights, and capes with stripes
polyester shirt with tie on.
No coloured hair, no coloured socks,
and shoes fit for the army,
A-Line skirts and gingham frocks,
the blazers drove you barmy.
The gym kit was my own idea,
with gore-tex tops – no glamour.
Navy knickers from knee to ear,
nothing stylish to enamour.
The school rule drill of measuring skirts,
two inch below the knee line,
needle and thread, we’ll have no flirts,
but still you rolled the waistline.
I heard you sing my Pioneer hymn,
and make up your own version,
Pie and Peas, Oh Pie and Peas,
was not an apt subversion.
But did you heed all that I said?
No – you were capricious, smart, and rowdy,
I did my best, you passed the test,
and I couldn’t be more prouder!
St Helena’s Reply by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
18.02.17
Worldly Winds 