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)
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
26 Saturday Jan 2013
Posted in Daily life, Poetry
Tags
Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, arrogance, critical, critique, meaningless, poetry, pretentious, UK poet, Yorkshire poet
They lust and slaver,
Oohed and aahed,
prestigious piece,
held with regard.
Stepping back,
to take it in,
I’m at a loss,
where to begin.
What it means –
can but surmise,
the Emperor’s clothes,
to a child’s eyes.
But still they come,
to worship it,
priceless pap,
elitist crit.
Decadent daubs,
and senseless scribble,
visual vomit,
verbal drivel.
Pretentious, pointless,
beholding eye,
meaningless,
to all but thy.
© Elephant in the Room 26.01.2012
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Child painting (Photo credit: magnusfranklin)
25 Friday Jan 2013
Posted in Poetry
A stunning piece for Burns night.
Thare is na time that wull nae come again
Th’ stoor o’ ages weightless winds huv spread
Howfur git back ‘ere ah cannae ken
Oor bairn’s a mon tae quickly grown frae grain
‘n’ we noo wear th’ masks o’ parents deid
Howfur made it ‘ere ah cannae ken
Ah track oor years by pathways thro’ th’ glens
‘n’ loue ye mair than ever cuid be said
Howfur git back ‘ere ah cannae ken
Th’ seasons wi’ thair changes come ‘n’ then
print upon th’ freish genetic treads.
Thare is na time that wull nae come again
Thae trees wha’s totem beauty time disdains
climb thro’ space tae light whaur thay ur fed
Howfur git back ‘ere ah cannae ken
In time a’ Hielands fall upon th’ plain
‘n’ ragin` floods wi’ mortal blood run rid
Thare is na time that wull nae come again.
But howfur git tae ‘ere…
View original post 188 more words
24 Thursday Jan 2013
Posted in Poetry
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24 Thursday Jan 2013
Posted in Poetry
A very frank and interesting interview about living with depression.
23 Wednesday Jan 2013
Posted in Poetry
I love smell of coffee brewing. A hot cup with tons of sugar and equal portions of heavy cream or one of coffee mate’s flavour. Yum Sigh*
Picture Credit:
freewallpapers 1920 x 1080 HDTV Blogspot
Kim of silentlyheardonce has ‘tagged’ me ……..!
1) How many cups of coffee per day? None – I react badly to caffeine. I drink decaf tea or Barley Cup. I have about four cups of tea a day.
2) What is your favourite caffeine delivery system? See above!!
3) What was your best cup of coffee? As a child I remember opening up new jars of coffee and loving the smell!
4) What was your worst cup of coffee? Any! It makes me ill!!
5) What does your favourite mug say? I love my Gorjuss mug –‘ I found my family in a book’
6) How do you take your coffee? I love milky decaf tea, redbush tea or green tea.
7) When was your first cup? I had tea from a young age, very milky and two sugars! I hate sugar in my tea now!!
8) Have you ever gone on a coffee tea date? Yes! As a teenager I used to go on tea dates to Joplins café in Chesterfield with my fiancé.
I shall now invite my friends on a tea/coffee date:
22 Tuesday Jan 2013
Posted in Poetry
Tags
Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, Ayrton Senna, commuting, F1, Formula One, humour, James Hunt, Jenson Button, Lewis Hamilton, poetry, pole position, Sebastian Vettel, Stirling Moss, train connections, travelling
Have you ever played, ‘Train Grand Prix’?
I’ll tell you how it’s done – you see…
the morning commute becomes fast and fun,
the connection being, Formula One.
Alight the train – the game does start,
from A to B, before depart.
See your quarry, each the best,
overtake them on your quest.
…and on the inside Ayrton Senna,
lady redcoat, hair of henna,
overtaking Jenson Button,
Miss prim and proper, lamb as mutton.
Outside geezer, old and grey,
Lewis H has had his day!
Student alert, mean and clued,
move over Hunt don’t be rude.
Sebastian Vettel is in my way,
deftly dodged with no delay,
Stirling Moss with the wheelie case,
watch out fool, I’ll win this race!
In pole position, take the lead,
aboard the train at high speed,
connection caught and what a blast,
Train Grand Prix – do not be last!
© Train Gran Prix 22.01.2012
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Five lights on, and we’re about to go! (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
22 Tuesday Jan 2013
Posted in Daily life, Poetry
I do not want,
this day to end,
it’s been the best,
I can’t pretend –
not many come,
like this to me,
it usually ends,
in misery…
but now I feel,
just like a Queen.
I’m happier now,
than I’ve ever been!
© Happy Days 22.01.2013
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Photo credit – unknown – if this is your picture and you would like it removed or accreditation adding please contact me.
Worldly Winds 