13 Wednesday Aug 2014
Posted in Deep Stuff!, Poetry
With tick after tock
as life leaves the clock,
time is ebbing away,
and tock before tick,
where time starts to slip,
reality shrouded in grey.
The pendulum swings
as the death knell rings
night bleeds into day,
as midnight chimes,
love’s sleep is sublime,
youth has out welcomed its stay.
© Thirteen 13.08.2014
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Picture credit: Picture courtesy of www.commentsyard.com
01 Friday Aug 2014
Tags
Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, camping, humour, poetry, UK poet, Uk poetry, Yorkshire poet
Here’s a silly one I wrote a couple of years ago – and guess what – we are going back to Devon…. in a Chalet! Should be a fun week as hubby and I are both ill, eldest son is not happy as there is no wifi connection, so in essence I am ruining his social life and love life!! Only my youngest is up for this trip! Hopefully it may inspire a few more poems! See you all in a week!!
I’m back from Devon,
I really am!
We stayed in a tent –
not a caravan!
They said it’d be cold,
I didn’t believe ‘em,
now I want to go home,
to my central heating.
The tent was fun,
it really was!
I really enjoyed it,
despite the frost.
The night was long,
we had power cuts;
we couldn’t do owt,
it drove us nuts!
The rain lashed down,
and the winds were a fright.
We sat and played Black Jack
on a cold, dark camp site.
I hated the night time,
I really did!
It was so flippin’ noisy,
sleep? – God forbid!
For hours at a time
the little ones whinged.
All the drunks they sang songs,
whilst the sober ones cringed.
Early morning was quiet.
No – I lied, it was not!
The babies would bawl
to get out of their cot.
The mud was fun
as we took down the tent;
the rain not so much,
and I started to vent!
A six hour trip
and now we are near.
Was it all worth it –
shall we do it next year?
© Camping Capers 2012
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
camping, tent (Photo credit: Wikipedia)”]
13 Sunday Jul 2014
Tags
Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, Buddhism, poetry, silent ones, UK poet, Uk poetry, Yorkshire poet
I will scour the darkest forest
and glide through mango groves
searching for the silent ones
who travel the same road
I will fight the fiercest oceans
and plunge to deepest depths
searching for the silent ones
who sing with silent breath
I will trek across the deserts
leaving no grain of sand unturned
searching for the silent ones
for whom my heart doeth yearn
I will scale the highest mountain
and dwell within dark caves
searching for the silent ones
whom I hope to find some day
I will raft the rabid rapids
and abseil from peak to floor
searching for the silent ones
whom they say exist no more
I will comb the sun-kissed beaches
and skim the silvery surf
searching for the silent ones
rumoured to roam this earth
I will search the church and chapels
and cathedral spires and tombs
searching for the silent ones
whom dwell in catacombs
I will tiptoe to the shrine room
and bow with folded hands
and here I’ll find the silent ones
my kith, my kin, my clan.
© Finding the Silent Ones 16.06.2014
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Photo Credit : Arabiian
http://arabiian.deviantart.com/art/Mystical-Forest-212656024
13 Sunday Jul 2014
Tags
abusive relationships, Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, bad habits, Buddhism, eating disorder, freedom, habits, hindrances, humour, poetry, UK poet, Uk poetry, Yorkshire poet
I saw it in the playground,
when I was only three,
the hula-hoop of hindrance,
resting by a tree.
It was pretty, pink, and sparkly,
with unicorns and glitter,
it even had, ‘go faster’ stripes,
so I could hula quicker.
I put it ‘round my tiny waist,
and hula’d round the yard,
little did I realise,
that it would make life hard.
I learned to love my hula-hoop,
though I was only four,
when I went to bed at night,
I’d leave it by the door.
I realised when I was five
(and also at aged six)
that I had been quite naïve
my hula habit fixed
This went on – my dearest friends,
throughout my adult life,
attachment to my hula-hoop,
caused me so much strife.
When cooking in the kitchen,
and trying to eat my dinner,
my hula hoop got in the way,
and I just grew much thinner.
and when I met my boyfriend,
I’d hula-hoop for joy,
but holding hands whilst hula-ing,
well… the romance is destroyed.
When I went upon retreat,
there was no problem there;
for there were many hula hoops,
that we could swap and share!
Then, Maitripala gave a talk,
about the hula habit,
if we can see the gateway….
the freedom’s there, so grab it!!
One day I hope my hula-hoop,
will rest against that tree,
and if you choose to have a go,
it’s going, gratis, free!!
© The Hula-Hoop of Hindrance 17.06.2014
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Photo Credit: Photo By Fotolia/Stockshoppe
28 Saturday Jun 2014
Tags
Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, death, grief, heartbreak, longing, loss, Mother, Mum, poetry, UK poet, Uk poetry, Yorkshire poet
And as she lay dying
I sat by the church,
the choir were singing
for peace on this earth.
They called to their God
in heaven above,
they prayed for redemption
forgiveness and love.
The grave yard was ancient
full of sinners and saints,
lichens and moss
made the epitaphs feint.
God promised you heaven
where the angels dwell,
and I am alone now
you’ve left me in hell.
© Nine Years 28.06.2014
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
08 Sunday Jun 2014
Posted in Poetry
Tags
Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alex Carr-Malcolm poetry, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poetry, poetry, Top Ten, UK poet, Uk poetry, Worldly Winds poetry, Worldly Winds Top Ten, Yorkshire poet
It’s that time of year and yet again I am jaunting off on retreat for a fortnight. I won’t be back until 27th June. So I thought I would leave you with my Top Ten most liked poems as chosen by you! But… then I looked, and there were some real crackers in positions 11 to 15 – so I thought I’d cheat and include those too! I hope you enjoy reading them and I will return soon, hopefully with some new gems 🙂
Click on the title to take you to the original poem 🙂 Enjoy!!
1. Soldier On
4. Tipping Sheep (the right way)
5. First Love
6. Silhouettes and Soliloquies
7. WoMan Flu
8. Thistledown
9. Mum
11. Murmuration
12. Sybarites
13. Black Rose
14. Child Within
15. Big Pants
Photo Credit : http://9laughs.com/go-on-without-me/
24 Saturday May 2014
Tags
Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poetry, cancer, death, grief, heartbreak, hospice, loss, memories, Mother, Mum, pain, Peak District, poetry, sorrow, tears, UK poet, Uk poetry, Woodhead Pass, Yorkshire poet
I remember the daily grind through the Peaks;
from Hillsborough to hospice.
Morphine induced twilight hours,
brittle brown heather hair,
cascading watery cataracts,
crashing, weeping, winding.
I know each bend like the veins in my hand;
the outcrops and falling rocks.
Spray from the lorries,
thrown up, muddy teardrops,
sliding down the windscreen,
breaking limits, breaking hearts.
This is the road to hell.
© Death of a Minor 24.05.2014
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Photo credit : photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/romeo66/2101025633/”>Romeo66</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>cc</a>
25 Friday Apr 2014
Tags
Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, death, heartbreak, loss, Mother, poetry, sorrow, UK poet, Uk poetry, Yorkshire poet
When you were wrenched
from me by Death,
the unceasing rain drenched
my very being;
the nights of winds wild,
unsettled my soul.
No longer a child,
your heart left a whole.
Dreams half formed and turbid,
barbed and bound with
memories coherent and vivid,
reliving the dying embers of life,
orphaned words held hostage
to overwhelming inadequacies.
Reviling flames of rage,
and the significance of
the underlying situation;
a futile recreation.
© Alexandra Carr-Malcolm 2013
10 Thursday Apr 2014
Tags
Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, muse, poetry, stars, UK poet, Uk poetry, writing, Yorkshire poet
She wears her poetry in her hair,
and her bare stocking feet.
Blue nicotine stained nails
show her terminal habit;
cold cobalt bitten lips
where pen has split,
bleeds into her skin,
just as her words,
bleed through,
her muse.
© Kate 10.04.2014
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Photo courtesy of Photopin
02 Wednesday Apr 2014
Posted in Deep Stuff!, Muse, NaPoWriMo, Poetry
Tags
Aether, Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, Aquilo, Arianrod, dreams, metaphysical, Metaphysical poetry, napowrimo, Nereides, poetry, Sirens, soul, stars, UK poet, writing, Yorkshire poet
Of what do I dream,
when I close my eyes?
I dream of the sea
and the star filled skies.
From constellations above
I would fashion a crown;
a cloak from the sea
matches my moonbeam gown.
I roam in the heavens
with Arianrod and Aether.
I swim in the oceans
with Nereides beneath.
With heartbroken Sirens,
sing laments to the seas.
With Aquilo the wind
I sing songs in the breeze.
When I close my eyes,
to this earth I’m not bound.
Neither time nor dimension
can tie this soul down.
© Dreams 2012
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Nereides, 1902 by Gaston Bussière (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Worldly Winds 