Touching tree tops,
tasting God,
climbing hillocks,
kiss the clod.
© Carefree 08.02.2013
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Carefree
08 Friday Feb 2013
Posted in Childhood Memories, Poetry
08 Friday Feb 2013
Posted in Poetry
It is worth having a go – they are friendly and very professional to work with 🙂
Hello there writers of WordPress.
We are still looking for submissions for our next anthology, “Western Haiku: A Collection.” This is to be released in March, so submissions are open for a little while longer (we’ll accept them until the end of this month, to give us time to edit and compile the content).
So, if you are a writer looking to get a wider audience for your poetry, submit your best Haiku and Western Haiku to us at dagdapublishing@hotmail.co.uk
We look forward to reading your poetry, and helping you that little bit in your writing career.
Mother’s Watch
07 Thursday Feb 2013
Tags
ageing, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, death, grief, longing, loss, memories, poetry, remembrance, time, UK poet, Yorkshire poet
Tick tock, tick tock,
my mother’s watch,
upon my arm,
tick tock, tick tock.
It shouldn’t be here,
it should be there,
I have her face,
I have her hair,
tick tock, tick tock.
The time flies by,
I grieve each day,
bequeathed to me,
time slips away,
tick tock, tick tock.
I smell the strap,
for scent of her,
but ‘tis long gone,
no trace is there,
tick tock, tick tock.
Our hands the same,
as time moves on,
just memories,
her voice is gone,
tick tock, tick tock.
The days slide by,
my treasured piece,
reminds of times,
and death’s release,
tick tock, tick tock.
Each tick from you,
I further slip,
each tock to you,
a step I skip,
tick tock, tick tock.
Tick tock, tick tock,
my mother’s watch,
upon my arm,
tick tock, tick tock.
© Mother’s Watch 07.02.2013
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Britannic Ladies Watch Bracelet Ad, 1922 (Photo credit: DominusVobiscum)
Bohemian
02 Saturday Feb 2013
Posted in Daily life, Longing & Waiting, Loss, Poetry, Waiting and Longing
Tags
Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, ambience, barista, bohemian, classical guitar, longing, loss, memories, muse, poetry, snow, UK poet, Yorkshire poet
I sip my tea
In the cafe bar
He sits and picks
Classical guitar
Snow flutters down
Ambience imbued
Johan Sebastian
As the barista brews
Behind the pillar
I sit and muse
Of times gone by
And heart beats used
I solitary sit
In the cafe bar
He sits and strums
Classical guitar
© Bohemian 02.02.2012
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Classical Head by Pablo Picasso (Photo credit: cliff1066™)
Beyond Cinderella
01 Friday Feb 2013
Posted in Longing & Waiting, Loss, Love, Poetry, Waiting and Longing
Tags
Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, Cinderella, fairytale, heartbreak, love, poetry, UK poet, Yorkshire poet
As she whispers to herself,
her shouts become shadows,
and heartbeats chime thirteen;
the pain in her chest is not surpassed,
by the memory of just before midnight.
Why did she stay? When all about said,
run, flee, escape, (or) you’ll rue the day.
Holding a bouquet of disdain,
she will mourn the bride,
and hide the pain.
© Beyond Cinderella 01.02.13
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Illustration for Charles Perrault’s Cinderella from Histoires ou Contes du Temps passé: Les Contes de ma Mère l’Oye(1697). Gustave Doré’s illustrations appear in an 1867 edition
Protagonist
29 Tuesday Jan 2013
Posted in Poetry
How I wish,
you were around,
to keep my feet,
upon this ground,
to clip my wings,
and whisper this…
Life’s a play –
protagonist,
don’t give up,
and don’t give in,
it’s just a game,
that no one wins.
© Protagonist 29.01.2013
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
28 Monday Jan 2013
Posted in Poetry
I also saw the moon
and so I say goodbye
to this world
In Japanese poetry the moon is often a reference to enlightenment. In this death poem by Buddhist nun Chiyo-ni, she expresses her final words to the world and her experience of awakening. Is it a glimpse? A continuous state of mind?
As one of the great haiku poets of her time, Chiyo-ni expresses a sense of wakefulness in all her poems with sublime beauty and metaphor. She wrote her first poem at age six and spent her life devoted to the arts of 18th century Japan.
In my garden
starflowers bloom
come and see.
Chiyo-ni, age 6
While her choice to become a Buddhist nun came later in her life after the death of her husband, the temple near her home was purported to be a strong influence in her life. Her devotion to the wonder…
View original post 179 more words
Propelling Poems
28 Monday Jan 2013
Posted in Daily life, Poetry
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)
Bless You!!
27 Sunday Jan 2013
Posted in Childhood Memories, Daily life, Humour, Poetry
Tags
Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, childhood, Easter, Easter eggs, humour, memories, poetry, socks, tissues
As you read my little poem,
dear reader, please remember,
it was a different time back then,
when things were so much simpler.
‘Twas 70’s eve of Easter Day,
when eggs and gifts await,
I was a quirky child of five,
excitement ever great!
I waited till my folks slept sound,
and all about was still,
I crept out from my toasty bed,
anticipated thrill.
Downstairs I sneaked, to take a peek,
at all my eggy plunder,
a gift I found, with eyes so wide,
I punched the air with wonder!
The gift was small and bright snow white,
soft as the purest dove,
A pack of tissues of my own!
‘twas what I’d ever dreamed of.
You see dear reader, ‘twas like this,
my ma a strict disciplinarian,
only hankies were allowed,
to her – tissues, unsanitarian.
I went to bed on such a high,
‘twas hard to fall asleep,
I never did anticipate,
how much I’d sob and weep.
I dreamed a dream of Grannies house,
where tissues flowed asunder,
pastel delights plucked from the box,
an endless cause of wonder.
Eater day soon came – at last,
I rushed to my delight,
Alas no tissues waited there,
just SOCKS, white and knee height.
I wept and cried, made such a fuss,
my ma was most perplexed,
she clipped my ear, and scolded me,
I was sent to bed quite vexed.
© Bless You 27.01.2013
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Easter Chicks on a Boat (Photo credit: nickstone333)
27 Sunday Jan 2013
Posted in Poetry
This is powerful, and fabulous to hear it read by Ms Plath herself 🙂
Welcome to our Weekend Poetry Readings, where we find a classic poem read by the poet. In doing so, by presenting the poem in the words of the poet, we hope that something new is conveyed to you, the listener.
This week, we decided to share some Sylvia Plath with you. Plath’s importance in the field of literature is undisputed, and in her short life she burned brighter than most. Credited with advancing the genre of confessional poetry, she is perhaps best known for her autobiographical novel The Bell Jar, written shortly before her untimely death in 1963, and two collections of poetry, Ariel and The Collosus andOther Poems. Posthumously awarded the Pulitzer Prize in 1982 for The Collected Poems. Even though she is gone, her words, and here, her voice, live on.
So take a minute, sit down, and enjoy this piece. One of the…
View original post 13 more words
Worldly Winds 