Black and White Barb

20 Wednesday Jan 2016

Posted by Worldly Winds in Poetry, Publications

Tags

Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alex Carr-Malcolm poetry, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, Counting Magpies, Counting Magpies Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, Counting Magpies Anthology, Mother, Mum, poetry, Uk poetry, writing, Yorkshire poet

Black and White Barb is about my mum and dedicated to my mum on what would have been her birthday today. Always in our hearts.

This is available in my latest anthology – Counting Magpies. There are a few copies of the limited edition anthology left at £10 plus postage. The limited edition has three bonus poems, is signed by my own fair hand, and will also include a handwritten poem 🙂 Please contact me if you would like a copy.

Black and White Barb

Unkindly they called you

black and white Barb,

and made you sound –

like a magpie.

One for sorrow,

(and there was) pain.

It wasn’t true –

What’s in a name?

Your deepest depths

you were so strong,

a monochrome bird

with a nightingale’s song.

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Eight Lilies

28 Sunday Jun 2015

Posted by Worldly Winds in Death, Heartbreak, Poetry

≈ 27 Comments

Tags

Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, grief, longing, loss, Mother, mourning, Mum, poetry, Yorkshire poet

It has been ten years since the death of my mother. This is one of my favourite poems dedicated to her. Not a day goes by when she isn’t missed and mourned.

Eight Lilies of remembrance,

stand to mark the way.

Eight lilies, one for each of you,

respect and honour the day;

to show that I still think of you,

though that day is done,

each lily marks a bygone past,

from a lifetime that is gone.

I smell their sweet thick lily scent,

It makes me think of you;

with fondest memories in my heart,

and tears that are now few.

No longer living in my world,

It is as though you’re dead.

The lilies are memorial,

to words still left unsaid.

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

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/

Lily

01 Saturday Nov 2014

Posted by Worldly Winds in Daily life, Death, Poetry

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm Lily, housework, Lily, love, Mother, mundanity, pain, poetry, UK poet, Uk poetry, writing, Yorkshire poet

I kick the dishwasher door shut

with my right foot.

Slam the mugs into their rightful place

without a backward glance,

click the washer onto spin.

Will it never end?

Then…

pulled up short,

a though occurs;

one day there will be no pots to wash,

no clothes to be done,

for you will be gone.

I fondly caress your fleece

slung carelessly across the chair,

and remove your work bag from the table –

to reveal the lily head, squashed,

beheaded, and hidden,

under mundanity

of housework.

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Photo Credit: JamesDeMers Pixabay

Nine Years

28 Saturday Jun 2014

Posted by Worldly Winds in Death, Poetry

≈ 10 Comments

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.

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Death of a Minor

24 Saturday May 2014

Posted by Worldly Winds in Death, Poetry

≈ 9 Comments

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.

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>

Ode to my Sons

17 Saturday May 2014

Posted by Worldly Winds in Humour, Poetry

≈ 26 Comments

Tags

Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poet, Derbyshire poetry, humour, Mother, Mum, poetry, teenagers, UK poet, Uk poetry, Yorkshire poet

The toilet is a clever thing

with a lid, most like a door;

so please don’t wee upon the seat

or pee upon the floor!

Microwave or cooker,

it really matters not,

this magical flamboyance

will make your meals get hot.

Dishwashers are quite practical,

they clean pots ’til they gleam.

No clever sleight or trick to it,

just put the damn things in!

Crockery, pots and cutlery,

are aids to keep you fed,

they aren’t for decoration,

don’t put them under your bed!

Food is quite sensational,

groovy in every way;

but when I go out shopping

don’t eat it in a day.

Clothes are sneaky demons,

they hide and split and breed,

but when they are all dirty

please put them in the machine.

Doors really are quite functional

they keep out draft and cold

and if you are from Derbyshire,

we say * ‘put wood in t’hole!’

The dog is cute, the dog is cool,

on this I must agree;

get of your arse, once in a while,

and take him for a wee.

I am your Mum – pink is my colour,

pink means it is MY stuff,

from ipod, pens to scarf and socks,

just keep your damn hands off!

*Put wood in t’hole (put the wood in the hole) Derbyshire saying meaning – shut the door!!!

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Orphan

25 Friday Apr 2014

Posted by Worldly Winds in Death, NaPoWriMo, Poetry

≈ 4 Comments

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.

Dorothy

13 Wednesday Nov 2013

Posted by Worldly Winds in Childhood Memories, Poetry

≈ 22 Comments

Tags

Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, chickenpox, childhood, Christmas Eve, loss, love, memories, memory, Mother, Mum, poetry, Polka dot, UK poet, Uk poetry, Yorkshire poet

They called you ‘big Dot’,

and I was ‘little Dot’,

you hated that.

Remember when,

on Christmas Eve,

chickenpox struck

with great malaise?

Granddad came to visit me,

and how he laughed,

and how he teased,

‘spotty Dotty’, he would say.

Remember the day, he came to play,

in his best green polka dot shirt?

‘Who’s spotty now?’

I shouted out loud.

You hit me,

it hurt.

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

…and the Clock Struck Twelve

14 Saturday Sep 2013

Posted by Worldly Winds in Childhood Memories, Grief, Heartbreak, Longing & Waiting, Poetry

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, death, grief, heartbreak, loss, love, Mother, Mum, pain, poetry, UK poet, Yorkshire poet

The clock struck twelve

and you were gone.

No family home,

I had no Mum;

why did you leave

me on my own?

You should have known,

I should have gone.

The days went fast

and slow, time passed;

but I was with you

at the last.

I often grieve

for what should be;

arm in arm,

just you and me.

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

The face of a W & H Sch grandfather clock at the Marines’ Memorial Hotel in San Francisco. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Worldly Winds

~ It's not easy being me!

Tag Archives: Mother

Black and White Barb

Eight Lilies

Mother Came to Stay

Lily

Nine Years

Death of a Minor

Ode to my Sons

Orphan

Dorothy

…and the Clock Struck Twelve

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