I Am Doing This For You

15 Saturday Jul 2017

Posted by Worldly Winds in Childhood Memories, Death, Poetry

Tags

Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poetry, cancer, Chesterfield, death, Hasland, poetry, St Paul's Church Hasland, Worldly Winds poetry, writing

St Paul's

I remember you…

Your tiny frame full of fearlessness,

teaching the universe,

the ways of the warrior.

We met in the church choir;

I was eight and you were six.

I am white and you were black,

already born to fight life’s prejudice.

Even then I was frightened;

cancer had claimed so many,

but they were old,

and you were six.

Do you remember the wedding?

Suited and booted, in cassock and gown,

you lifted your wig,

and the horror it caused.

I was only eight,

but I prayed for days and nights,

that God would give me your cancer,

and let you live…

He never did.

I heard your story, at the end,

it hurt for you to be held,

your mummy and daddy wept

whilst you comforted them.

You asked them not to cry,

and you said you’d be alright.

You never came back to choir.

Not long after, you died.

It was at this very time,

I stopped believing in God,

he never answered my prayer,

your prayer, or theirs.

I still remember you…

your tiny frame full of fearlessness,

and how we giggled as girls,

when you doffed your wig to the world.

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Photo Credit: Dave Bevishttp://www.drbevis.demon.co.uk/CILAAA01.htm

We Three

28 Wednesday Dec 2016

Posted by Worldly Winds in Childhood Memories, Death, Grief, Loss, Poetry

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Alex Carr-Malcolm poetry, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poet, death, grief, loss, poetry

I originally wrote this poem for a project I am working on at the moment. Last week I found out a good friend had passed away, and this poem seemed a fitting tribute to a gentle, kind, and dear friend. Go well good friend – go well.

We walked on the beach,

my friend, the dog, and me;

looked out to the seas,

and plotted our dreams,

my friend, the dog, and me.

We danced on the beach,

my friend, the dog, and me;

we thanked lucky stars,

couldn’t believe where we are,

my friend, the dog, and me.

We strolled on the beach,

my friend, the dog, and me,

we sat in the dunes,

reflecting on tunes,

my friend, the dog, and me.

We stood on the beach,

my friend, and me;

wondering where the time had gone,

and how life had moved on,

my friend, and me.

Looking back at the beach,

just me;

the gulls mourn the song,

of where it all went wrong,

just me — and my memories.

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Vanessa

21 Saturday Nov 2015

Posted by Worldly Winds in Anger, Death, Poetry

≈ 17 Comments

Tags

Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alex Carr-Malcolm Vanessa, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, death, grief, heartbreak, poetry, Rape, Suicide, Yorkshire poet

Oh Vanessa, Vanessa,

where do you get off?

with your dark overlord poetry,

another trendy hip goth.

Vampiric feasting from honest dark grief,

poetic death porn, for your gratuitous relief.

Stand up! Stand up! You superstar!

Perform and pose, so we see who you are.

Don’t think of your morals, your duty, or ethics,

just another shock jock out to get your death fix.

Don’t think of the victims, dead or alive,

those with slashed apart souls just trying to strive,

to cope with the day and get through to the end,

with ripped apart lives that can never mend;

trying to breathe, lungs molten with mourning,

to those who’ve met death without prior warning,

who’ve stood at the edge of the gaping abyss,

and see your floor show for the ego fix that is.

Just think of your creed, your name and your art,

don’t care for the wake of what’s torn apart.

After all – responsibility – is it all yours?

Oh no – surely not – you perform for your cause!

I’ll remember your face and your soft slick show,

as you pose to the kids on your high pedestal;

but the audience was captive, no choice in the matter,

as you trotted out mentally destructive chatter.

Stuck on the front in the audience stare,

in a flashback that rendered me froze to the chair,

reliving the horror, of the cruelty of death,

the pain and the agony spewed from your breath.

Did you even know what you had done?

either ignorance, or intended, it can’t be undone.

You’ve uncaged a monster that now preys on my mind,

I cannot conceive someone can be that unkind,

So that takes me to ignorance, and the stupidity is,

Oh Vanessa, Vanessa, it was you that did this.

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Picture credit: Pinteresthttps://uk.pinterest.com/pin/524317581589569768/

Natural Order

04 Wednesday Nov 2015

Posted by Worldly Winds in Death, Grief, Poetry

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alex Carr-Malcolm poetry, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, death, grief, loss, poetry, Yorkshire poet

Remembering my cousin.

How can it be?

When it is not natural.

Not this way,

from the blind side.

How can it be?

Order?

When it is out of order,

out of the ordinary,

extra ordinary.

You oxymoron,

natural order.

How can it be?

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Findlay’s spirit (Photo credit: beccaplusmolly)

My Boy

20 Wednesday May 2015

Posted by Worldly Winds in Anger, Poetry

≈ 13 Comments

Tags

Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alex Carr-Malcolm poetry, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, anger, death, grief, My Boy, poetry, Police, UK poet, Uk poetry, Yorkshire poet

That is my boy.

The one you shot,

the one you smote,

the Bactrian one

whose back you broke.

That is my boy.

The one you left

for dead in a cell,

who jerked and seized,

you thought he signed well.

That is my boy.

The one who is Deaf,

frogmarched and chained,

not understood,

his language restrained.

That is my boy.

The one who is ill,

as you bore down on his chest,

you broke his heart,

along with the rest.

That is my boy.

The one who is black,

the one who is white,

the one left hanging,

in a cell out of sight.

That is my boy.

The one you shot,

the one you smote,

the Bactrian one

whose back you broke.

That is my boy,

and it is your boy too.

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Picture Credit:https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/306667055852311916/

Picture Credit: Found on sliptalk.com

This art installation was erected by South African artist Marco Cianfanelli, stands on the spot where Nelson Mandela was arrested 50 years ago. The monument is constructed out of 50 separate steel bars to represent 50 years since the capture.

What If?

27 Monday Apr 2015

Posted by Worldly Winds in Death, NaPoWriMo, Poetry

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alex Carr-Malcolm poetry, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, death, depression, napowrimo, poetry, UK poet, Uk poetry, writing, Yorkshire poet

Another day, another dollar,

washing pots, preventing squalor.

Mundane tasks, day in, day out,

the meaning of life, what’s it all about?

She takes the knife from the dishwasher rack,

and dries it slowly, stopped in her tracks,

she stops to think by the kitchen sink –

what if, what if, what if?

To push the knife deep in my gut,

would it slip in, like a needle in butter

would it wrinkle, like a blunt knife tomato

or would it resist, like a half cooked potato

Would it be simple or would it be hard to

plunge deep the steel, its passage legato

would it feel cold or would it feel hot

should I do it, or should I not?

Would it induce an arterial spurt

like Pollock upon my cobwebbed wall dirt

or would it just ooze and be warm wet and sticky

would she fall to her knees looking pallid and sickly

The dog nudges past which jolts back to reality

and someone shouts through the closed kitchen door

‘Mum, where’s the remote for the cable TV?’

I dry up the knife and place it back in the drawer

What if, what if, what if?

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

The Waiting Game

25 Saturday Apr 2015

Posted by Worldly Winds in Death, NaPoWriMo, Poetry, Word Play

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alex Carr-Malcolm poetry, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, death, games, Monopoly, napowrimo, poetry, The Waiting Game, UK poet, Uk poetry, waiting, writing, Yorkshire poet

I am waiting for my turn.

Playing the game,

forever stuck.

Do not pass GO,

do not collect £200.

I am waiting to see the blue Angel,

to battle the red square,

stroll down Park Lane

and stay a while…

at the Mayfair.

I am waiting for my Chance,

my, Get Out of Jail Free,

the bank error in my favour,

to win second place in – anything,

my inheritance.

Instead,

I go back three spaces,

make general repairs to my green house,

pay my taxes – that’s fine,

for Doctor’s fee – read prescription.

I’m done with waiting!

Do I pay a £10 fine,

or take a Chance,

or do I wait –

two die?

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Picture credit:http://www.playbuzz.com/laurawhite11/which-british-monopoly-square-are-you

Mother Came to Stay

08 Wednesday Apr 2015

Posted by Worldly Winds in Death, NaPoWriMo, Poetry

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alex Carr-Malcolm poetry, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, death, love, Mother, Mum, napowrimo, poetry, UK poet, Uk poetry, writing, Yorkshire poet

It’s been ten years long,

since you passed away,

and then you decided,

you’d come to stay.

I was shocked,

when I saw you;

you know,

I adore you.

You never announced,

you’d arrive today,

you bounced straight in,

in your usual way,

announced to me,

you’d come to stay,

gave me a start,

unpacked your bags

and moved into my heart.

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Picture Credit: https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/39547302953922258/

Night Star

03 Friday Apr 2015

Posted by Worldly Winds in Loss, Love, Muse, NaPoWriMo, Poetry

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alex Carr-Malcolm poetry, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poetry, death, loneliness, longing, love

When you left,

you took us all with you,

the old, the young,

the Saints and the Sinners.

A gaping chasm,

left in your wake.

Three decades of grief,

the tides of loss,

your fall from grace,

as you plummeted us all,

into oblivion.

Yet – you shine brighter,

and more fierce,

than any star,

I’ve ever seen.

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm 03.04.15

Picture credit: https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/562527809678726617/

Threnody

22 Saturday Nov 2014

Posted by Worldly Winds in Death, Loss, Poetry

≈ 21 Comments

Tags

Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alex Carr-Malcolm Threnody, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, death, grief, memories, memory, poetry, Threnody, UK poet, Uk poetry, writing, Yorkshire poet

Do not grieve when I am gone,

I would not want it so.

Plant both feet firm in life’s joy,

and let my spirit go.

Take Mother Earth and dance with her,

and pass the day with Father Time,

for when you hear the linnet sing,

Know that it comes from my beating heart.

When you see the cherry blossom,

confetti falling at your feet,

Know that I celebrate your life,

in each and every way.

When you see the warm spring showers,

or harshest winter rains,

know that they are my tears of joy,

for your each and every day.

When you feel the summer’s breeze,

or brave a storm wind night

Listen out!

For I may call your name,

to remind you I’m about.

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Picture credit: Torfi007 Pixabay

Worldly Winds

~ It's not easy being me!

Tag Archives: death

I Am Doing This For You

We Three

Vanessa

Natural Order

My Boy

What If?

The Waiting Game

Mother Came to Stay

Night Star

Threnody

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