Rock Star


Child Within


, , , , ,


I see the child within you,

with your boyish short fair hair.

I hold my arms out to you

I want to show I care.


They may have left you

broken, bewildered and abused,

but I will never leave you

feeling neglected, sad and used.


You stand there like a ghost child,

one sock up and one half down.

too sad, too shy, too quiet,

Your face a pale, sad, frown.


Your little dress is crass and short,

your shoes are scuffed and worn,

your toys are few and far between,

your bear, one eyed and torn.


I see you quietly playing.

keep out the grown-ups way,

don’t let them know of what you think,

they cannot make you say.


Come  child, sit here upon my knee,

Let me soothe away the pain;

cry out your little heart to me

they can’t hurt you again.


Hush child, no need to cry,

I will wipe away your tears.

just hold my hand and follow me,

I can soothe away your fears.


Hold strong, my love, rest in my arms;

be still and do not weep.

Listen to my lullaby

I’ll guard you whilst you sleep.


Be brave and bide your time Karen,

your future may be bright.

Hold the pain, the memories

take up your pen and write


© Child Within 2012

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm




Worldly Winds

English: Ladybird on a sunflower A rare spot o...

Sometimes I feel that I am small,

and I don’t matter anymore,

I am so tired I could surely sleep,

for an eternity I would forever weep,

my heart feels heavy, and my mind so dull,

my body aches from a life lived full.

The fight is gone and the flame subdued,

passion’s waned as a life concludes;

once more be young, footloose and free?

I’ve had my day, and it’s not for me.

© Footloose 05.12.2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

English: Ladybird on a sunflower A rare spot of sun and blue sky this August brings a ladybird and a sunflower out at the same time. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


View original post

Parris anthology

Parris is my latest anthology – poetry inspired by Philip Parris Lynott, Dublin, and mythology. The poems cover the themes of love, loss and longing.

Copies are available directly from me or from amazon.

To order from direct, please email,

To order from amazon follow the link below,


Fair Days and Foul

Just the poem for a bank holiday!

Worldly Winds

A waltzer in motion. The operator walks the bo...

My tummy feels like summer,

or a giggle just set free,

like a flitter of lairy butterflies,

and a swarm of buzzy bees.

My heart beats to the rhythm,

of girls who jump the rope,

bouncing like a bright beach ball,

shown on some Oscilloscope.

My mind spins like the waltzer,

at a gaily lit up fair.

My head is full of candy floss,

and kites that surf the air.

If I could catch the essence,

and save a jar or two,

I’d keep them in my cupboard,

for when I’m feeling blue.

© Fair Days and Foul 2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

A waltzer in motion. The operator walks the boards to spin the cars (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

View original post

Bonnie’s Crew


, , , ,

This little beauty has landed through my letter box. This is a superb anthology raising money for Leeds Congenital Hearts via the Children’s Heart Surgery Fund.

Don’t let it’s delicate size fool you, it is packed with a mighty punch of poetry; like a luxurious box of chocolates it contains something for everyone. You can follow the story of Bonnie’s Crew on the link below –  this precious anthology, edited by Kate Garrett, is a limited edition run of 200 copies, which are selling fast! Follow the link if you would like to order a copy.


The Sheds


, , , , , , ,

This was filmed at Cromford Mills, Derbyshire. Here I am reading one of my poems from the collaborative anthology, ‘Spinnning a Yarn Weaving a Poem’. This was part of a Sheffield Community Heritage project focusing on cotton and the cotton industry.


The Sheds

I was six when I was taken,

gripping tightly, my father’s hand;

the stifling dusty air clung,

monster machines clanged and protested,

a full-on battle between Metal Giants

and the cotton industry age.


Mop-capped and gowned in gingham,

women gesticulated a pidgin patois,

a sign of the times,

amidst the deafening din,

looming in the sheds,

weaving profits for capitalists.


By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm