Visited Wentworth today, here is the Tik Tok link 😊💚
Faith, hope, and charity
love is not free
I dream of a piano
playing jazz by the sea
the snow on the apple
the lady bug eight
Staves in a melody
caught on a fish-hook
Can’t remember your face
hiraeth is calling
a song on a breeze
red balloons falling
Aphrodite from Greece
Jazz Mum by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm 22.08.2020
This is dedicated to Philomena Lynott. Go well lovely lady.
I wrote this poem in 2016. I contacted Philomena and asked if it would be alright for me to use ‘Parris’ as the title to my third anthology, as a tribute to her son Philip Parris Lynott.
Phil Lynott as a poet, musician, and singer had a profound impact in my teenage years. The words, music, and mythology intertwined with my complicated and troubled adolescence, getting me through some tough and heartbreaking years.
When I had finished the anthology I sent it to her for her approval. I was really nervous and hoped she would like it. She contacted me to say she loved it. I was both elated and relieved.
Such a beautiful and inspirational lady, I am so glad we had a connection and I got to meet you. You will always be remembered, loved, and an inspiration to us all.
She stepped into the world
in an ill-fitting skin,
and fashioned a coat of shame,
woven with silks gossamer thin,
dip dyed with hues of blame.
Buttoned up with mismatched memories,
with her pockets full of dreams,
hemmed in, hemmed up, Portofino cuff,
stitched up by a seamstress’s seam.
One day she said, enough is enough!
and slipped off that coat infame,
she had grown right in to the ill-fitting skin,
so she crafted herself an new name.
Finally freed from her widow’s weeds,
she called to the Dakinis within.
The moon and the sun in a syzygy dance,
to the tune of the neap tide seas,
coronate crown of abalone shell,
with a cloak of Etesian breeze,
she plucked the lightning out of the skies,
and collected her juvenile tears,
forging an armour from Hadesian hell,
annealed in Elysian fields,
protector of Phthinoporon souls.
She learned to wear her life well.
Philomena by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
For my Mum…
I looked through the window,
I thought I saw you;
just a hint of a memory
that I wanted to view.
A past life once lived;
a deep memory pain.
I had to control myself
from calling your name.
Her walk was all wrong
and her hair, not the same,
but she had the same clothes
as I saw in my dream.
I followed behind her
and hoped to see
that it really was you
as you used to be.
I knew it was futile
and couldn’t be true;
you’ve been gone these six years,
it couldn’t be you.
© Mum 2012
Alexandra Carr-Malcolm 2012
I see the child within you,
with your boyish short fair hair.
I hold my arms out to you
I want to show I care.
They may have left you
broken, bewildered and abused,
but I will never leave you
feeling neglected, sad and used.
You stand there like a ghost child,
one sock up and one half down.
too sad, too shy, too quiet,
Your face a pale, sad, frown.
Your little dress is crass and short,
your shoes are scuffed and worn,
your toys are few and far between,
your bear, one eyed and torn.
I see you quietly playing.
keep out the grown-ups way,
don’t let them know of what you think,
they cannot make you say.
Come child, sit here upon my knee,
Let me soothe away the pain;
cry out your little heart to me
they can’t hurt you again.
Hush child, no need to cry,
I will wipe away your tears.
just hold my hand and follow me,
I can soothe away your fears.
Hold strong, my love, rest in my arms;
be still and do not weep.
Listen to my lullaby
I’ll guard you whilst you sleep.
Be brave and bide your time Karen,
your future may be bright.
Hold the pain, the memories
take up your pen and write
© Child Within 2012
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm