Graphite sticks propelling poems,

Indian white erasing Koans,

Faber’s fables etching easels,

pencil led creating castells;

without my scribe,

where would I be,

blotted books,

anonymity.

 

© Propelling Poems 28.01.2013

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

辉柏嘉（Faber-Castell）铅笔与橡皮 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

 

She looks in the mirror,

and stares in the glass.

Memories visual,

the haunting has passed.

Recalling events,

reflected in front,

and wonders quite simply,

when did I become?

© Becoming (her) 01.09.2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Looking Glass (Photo credit: Elena Kalis)

Take a cup of envy,

and mix it with some greed,

season it with hatred,

then add some, woe is me!

Plus one spoon of ego,

marinade in pity,

righteous indignation,

will make the mixture pretty.

Make a quick snap judgement,

blend it with assumption,

now, Prapancha Soup,

is ready for consumption!

© Prapancha Soup 18/08/2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

English: Beetroot soup with vegetables and hard-boiled eggs, Sanok (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Within my mind I see your face,

still haunted by the sound of your laughter,

recalling the warmth of your sweet embrace.

All these I carry within my heart.

See my head turn as I hear your name,

watch my heart break when you touch my dreams,

the tears that burn with the memory pain.

All these I carry within my heart.

My lovely, lovely, paramour.

© Paramour 06/03/2012

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Small and scruffy,

brown and woofy,

Spikey Spike dog,

is my puppy.

Scared of cats,

sniffs the breeze,

barks the birds,

to the trees.

Sits and begs,

for a treat,

always savoury,

never sweet.

Longs for noodles,

shivers for cheese,

dog snot windows,

covered in sneeze.

Paws all a twitch,

Whoops delight,

dreams of walkies,

in the night.

© Spike 28.01.2014

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

It’s a not going right day,

my alarm did not sound,

so I’m late and I’m cross,

and I’m rushing around.

 

It’s a not going right day,

I quickly undress,

the shower’s luke warm,

now I’m cold and I’m stressed!

 

It’s a not going right day,

I’ve run for the bus,

the driver didn’t see me,

he’s pulled off in a rush.

 

It’s a not going right day,

the rain lashes down,

(I’ve forgotten my brolly,)

as I walk into town.

 

It’s a not going right day,

I won’t be on time.

I look at my watch,

it’s one minute to nine.

 

‘It’s a not going right day!’

the receptionist shouts.

I look down and I cringe,

my top’s inside out!

 

It’s a not going right day,

I’ve forgotten my phone.

Each job is a nightmare,

and I long to go home.

 

It’s…

Do you see into the poet’s soul?

Your stare puts me on edge.

I’m sat before you naked;

you write on my blank page.

I saw you, I know you,

and it took me by surprise.

I really didn’t think that,

you’d see into these poet’s eyes.

© Windows to the Soul 25.05.2013

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Pantheon Masquerade (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I never went to Dublin,

or strolled along the shore.

I never walked on Grafton Street,

or wore the pearls you swore.

I never came to visit you,

and relive bygone days;

to welcome ghosts that haunted me,

or weep upon your grave.

© Dublin 2012

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

English: A panoramic view of Howth harbour. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)