Touching tree tops,
tasting God,
climbing hillocks,
kiss the clod.
© Carefree 08.02.2013
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Carefree
08 Friday Feb 2013
Posted in Childhood Memories, Poetry
Tag Archives: poetry
Mother’s Watch
07 Thursday Feb 2013
Tags
ageing, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, death, grief, longing, loss, memories, poetry, remembrance, time, UK poet, Yorkshire poet
Tick tock, tick tock,
my mother’s watch,
upon my arm,
tick tock, tick tock.
It shouldn’t be here,
it should be there,
I have her face,
I have her hair,
tick tock, tick tock.
The time flies by,
I grieve each day,
bequeathed to me,
time slips away,
tick tock, tick tock.
I smell the strap,
for scent of her,
but ‘tis long gone,
no trace is there,
tick tock, tick tock.
Our hands the same,
as time moves on,
just memories,
her voice is gone,
tick tock, tick tock.
The days slide by,
my treasured piece,
reminds of times,
and death’s release,
tick tock, tick tock.
Each tick from you,
I further slip,
each tock to you,
a step I skip,
tick tock, tick tock.
Tick tock, tick tock,
my mother’s watch,
upon my arm,
tick tock, tick tock.
© Mother’s Watch 07.02.2013
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Britannic Ladies Watch Bracelet Ad, 1922 (Photo credit: DominusVobiscum)
Bohemian
02 Saturday Feb 2013
Posted in Daily life, Longing & Waiting, Loss, Poetry, Waiting and Longing
Tags
Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, ambience, barista, bohemian, classical guitar, longing, loss, memories, muse, poetry, snow, UK poet, Yorkshire poet
I sip my tea
In the cafe bar
He sits and picks
Classical guitar
Snow flutters down
Ambience imbued
Johan Sebastian
As the barista brews
Behind the pillar
I sit and muse
Of times gone by
And heart beats used
I solitary sit
In the cafe bar
He sits and strums
Classical guitar
© Bohemian 02.02.2012
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Classical Head by Pablo Picasso (Photo credit: cliff1066™)
Beyond Cinderella
01 Friday Feb 2013
Posted in Longing & Waiting, Loss, Love, Poetry, Waiting and Longing
Tags
Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, Cinderella, fairytale, heartbreak, love, poetry, UK poet, Yorkshire poet
As she whispers to herself,
her shouts become shadows,
and heartbeats chime thirteen;
the pain in her chest is not surpassed,
by the memory of just before midnight.
Why did she stay? When all about said,
run, flee, escape, (or) you’ll rue the day.
Holding a bouquet of disdain,
she will mourn the bride,
and hide the pain.
© Beyond Cinderella 01.02.13
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Illustration for Charles Perrault’s Cinderella from Histoires ou Contes du Temps passé: Les Contes de ma Mère l’Oye(1697). Gustave Doré’s illustrations appear in an 1867 edition
Protagonist
29 Tuesday Jan 2013
Posted in Poetry
How I wish,
you were around,
to keep my feet,
upon this ground,
to clip my wings,
and whisper this…
Life’s a play –
protagonist,
don’t give up,
and don’t give in,
it’s just a game,
that no one wins.
© Protagonist 29.01.2013
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Propelling Poems
28 Monday Jan 2013
Posted in Daily life, Poetry
Graphite sticks propelling poems,
Indian white erasing Koans,
Faber’s fables etching easels,
pencil led creating castells;
without my scribe,
where would I be,
blotted books,
anonymity.
© Propelling Poems 28.01.2013
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
辉柏嘉（Faber-Castell）铅笔与橡皮 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Bless You!!
27 Sunday Jan 2013
Posted in Childhood Memories, Daily life, Humour, Poetry
Tags
Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, childhood, Easter, Easter eggs, humour, memories, poetry, socks, tissues
As you read my little poem,
dear reader, please remember,
it was a different time back then,
when things were so much simpler.
‘Twas 70’s eve of Easter Day,
when eggs and gifts await,
I was a quirky child of five,
excitement ever great!
I waited till my folks slept sound,
and all about was still,
I crept out from my toasty bed,
anticipated thrill.
Downstairs I sneaked, to take a peek,
at all my eggy plunder,
a gift I found, with eyes so wide,
I punched the air with wonder!
The gift was small and bright snow white,
soft as the purest dove,
A pack of tissues of my own!
‘twas what I’d ever dreamed of.
You see dear reader, ‘twas like this,
my ma a strict disciplinarian,
only hankies were allowed,
to her – tissues, unsanitarian.
I went to bed on such a high,
‘twas hard to fall asleep,
I never did anticipate,
how much I’d sob and weep.
I dreamed a dream of Grannies house,
where tissues flowed asunder,
pastel delights plucked from the box,
an endless cause of wonder.
Eater day soon came – at last,
I rushed to my delight,
Alas no tissues waited there,
just SOCKS, white and knee height.
I wept and cried, made such a fuss,
my ma was most perplexed,
she clipped my ear, and scolded me,
I was sent to bed quite vexed.
© Bless You 27.01.2013
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Easter Chicks on a Boat (Photo credit: nickstone333)
Elephant in the Room
26 Saturday Jan 2013
Posted in Daily life, Poetry
Tags
Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, arrogance, critical, critique, meaningless, poetry, pretentious, UK poet, Yorkshire poet
They lust and slaver,
Oohed and aahed,
prestigious piece,
held with regard.
Stepping back,
to take it in,
I’m at a loss,
where to begin.
What it means –
can but surmise,
the Emperor’s clothes,
to a child’s eyes.
But still they come,
to worship it,
priceless pap,
elitist crit.
Decadent daubs,
and senseless scribble,
visual vomit,
verbal drivel.
Pretentious, pointless,
beholding eye,
meaningless,
to all but thy.
© Elephant in the Room 26.01.2012
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Child painting (Photo credit: magnusfranklin)
A Winning Formula
22 Tuesday Jan 2013
Posted in Poetry
Tags
Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, Ayrton Senna, commuting, F1, Formula One, humour, James Hunt, Jenson Button, Lewis Hamilton, poetry, pole position, Sebastian Vettel, Stirling Moss, train connections, travelling
Have you ever played, ‘Train Grand Prix’?
I’ll tell you how it’s done – you see…
the morning commute becomes fast and fun,
the connection being, Formula One.
Alight the train – the game does start,
from A to B, before depart.
See your quarry, each the best,
overtake them on your quest.
…and on the inside Ayrton Senna,
lady redcoat, hair of henna,
overtaking Jenson Button,
Miss prim and proper, lamb as mutton.
Outside geezer, old and grey,
Lewis H has had his day!
Student alert, mean and clued,
move over Hunt don’t be rude.
Sebastian Vettel is in my way,
deftly dodged with no delay,
Stirling Moss with the wheelie case,
watch out fool, I’ll win this race!
In pole position, take the lead,
aboard the train at high speed,
connection caught and what a blast,
Train Grand Prix – do not be last!
© Train Gran Prix 22.01.2012
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Five lights on, and we’re about to go! (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Happy Days!
22 Tuesday Jan 2013
Posted in Daily life, Poetry
I do not want,
this day to end,
it’s been the best,
I can’t pretend –
not many come,
like this to me,
it usually ends,
in misery…
but now I feel,
just like a Queen.
I’m happier now,
than I’ve ever been!
© Happy Days 22.01.2013
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Photo credit – unknown – if this is your picture and you would like it removed or accreditation adding please contact me.
Worldly Winds 