Parting Sorrows

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English: Train station in Łeba.

 

 

 

 

 

The heartbreak of each new parting,

makes me wonder why we say hello.

It leaves me unsettled and wanting,

though I try so hard not to show,

the pain in my heart of the parting,

each bittersweet delaying farewell,

leaving me reeling and hurting,

cast back to my solitary hell.

 

© Parting Sorrows 12.10.2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

English: Train station in Łeba. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

Fantastic Elastic

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English: A Pulsar Touch/Command Ladies' LED wa...

 

 

 

 

 

 

Where does time go,

when you’re in a hurry?

It slips away,

with stress and worry.

Hopscotch rules,

it skips a step,

elastically stretches,

in the dentist chair.

Then time just stops,

when tragedy stills,

and doffs its cap,

respecting life’s ills.

 

© Fantastic Elastic 12.10.2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Photo credit – English: A Pulsar Touch/Command Ladies’ LED watch, from around 1976 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

Sodium Skies

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English: Hagnaby Road, Old Bolingbroke I don't...

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sheffield streets,

sodium skies.

Satsuma skin,

sallow sight.

 

© Sodium Skies 12.10.2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Photo credit – English: Hagnaby Road, Old Bolingbroke I don’t like the orange street lights and nearly turned all the night shots into greyscale images. Well, if you don’t like the colour, try that for yourself. Looking towards the village cross. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

La Danse de la Mort

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Rhythm, a sequence in time repeated, featured ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And ‘though you didn’t know it,

whilst young and naive,

you danced with the devil,

on that snowy winter’s eve.

 

You may ask how I know this,

as we danced ‘round the hall,

for whilst he lay sleeping,

‘twas I stole his soul.

 

As it all becomes clearer,

‘twas I that was naive,

as you danced with the devil,

on that cold February’s eve.

 

© La Danse de la Mort 06.10.2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Rhythm, a sequence in time repeated, featured in dance: an early moving picture demonstrates the waltz. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

Topsy-Turvy

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English: It's a topsy turvy world On Frampton ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

Everything feels so wrong,

nothing’s quite the same,

everything’s so different,

but no one is to blame.

 

It’s how it’s meant to be,

but all the same it’s wrong,

it’s just a different tune,

and a slightly different song.

 

I don’t like the way it is,

but there’s nothing I can do,

I’ll have to stick it out,

until we see it through.

 

© Topsy-Turvy 05.10.2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

English: It’s a topsy turvy world On Frampton Marsh, the sky is often to be seen underfoot. Looking towards the sea bank from one of the many pools in the marshland. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

Stiff Upper Lip

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Masked.

Masked. (Photo credit: .Andi.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hold it all in,

and bottle it up,

emotions subdued,

with a stiff upper lip.

Stifle emotions,

wear that fake mask,

choke back the tears,

and get on with the task.

 

© Stiff Upper Lip 05.10.2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

 

The Heart of the House

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Birds in a row

 

 

The day you left,

and walked out the door,

the heart of the house,

beat no more.

 

You took the flame,

right out of the fire,

clouds cuddled the sun,

and the moon did cry.

 

The birds they fell silent,

respecting the day,

when you walked out the door,

and went far away.

 

© The Heart of the House 04.10.2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Birds in a row (Photo credit: The Wren Design)

Beddy Byes

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English: Greater Swiss Mountain Dog puppy slee...

 

 

 

 

 

 

And now it’s time,

to go to bed,

‘cause I’m a tired,

teddy head.

 

A giant yawn,

I rub my eyes,

it’s time to go,

to beddy byes.

 

Up the wooden

hill I go,

to throw some Zzz’s,

and dream of you!

 

© Beddy Byes 30.09.2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

English: Greater Swiss Mountain Dog puppy sleeping. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

A Tribute to my Slippers

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Everybody needs a pair of these.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wearing slippers,

is an old bird thing…

For when once young,

naked feet would spring,

through dew grass sweet,

and street baked heat.

As the years soon decline,

bare feet, though sublime,

our child’s heart now subdued,

we reach for comfort of our shoes.

No more feet, wet and wild,

as I did when a child.

Now I groan out of bed,

feeling old and half dead,

toasty toes hit cold floor,

then I crave for the allure,

of my slippers cosy warm,

safe from harm,

of cold chills,

and spikey ills,

that can harm footsies,

or stubbed tootsies.

Yes – I can attest,

that my slippers,

are the best!

 

© A Tribute to my Slippers 29.09.2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Everybody needs a pair of these. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)