20 Sunday May 2012
Posted in Deep Stuff!, Love, Poetry
In dawns half-light,
half-dreams are born.
Half-shadow is where,
half-ideas start to form;
plucked from my mind,
they dance in my soul,
to blossom then flourish,
and make me feel whole.
Some like a sunset,
vibrant colours shout out,
others shy rainbows,
conditions coaxed out.
The hardest of all –
a verse like a thorn,
agitation and pain,
deliverance when drawn.
© Half-light 2012
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Rose (Photo credit: MartenKL)
18 Friday May 2012
Posted in Daily life, Poetry
Sat here writing,
drinking a brew;
weaving words,
for a poem, or two.
Feel my craft,
a magical spell,
casting its net,
as you sample my hell.
I’ll spin you a line,
to make you feel good,
a twist at the end,
to chill the blood.
© Friday Night 2012
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
18 Friday May 2012
Posted in Daily life, Deep Stuff!, Poetry
You’re a liar!
With your stories –
You don’t know,
what the truth is.
Half told truths,
little white lies,
you’ve added the spin,
to your fantasies.
It’s had to keep up,
as you chatter away,
I don’t believe
a word you say.
Romanticise.
That’s what they say,
for the lies you tell,
and how you behave.
You don’t see the damage,
left in your wake,
destroying lives,
the tongue of a snake.
Now listen to me!
and there’s the rub,
there’s nothing romantic,
in what you’ve become.
© Liar Liar! 2012
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
18 Friday May 2012
Posted in Daily life, Poetry, Waiting and Longing
Tags
Cherry blossom, lilac, longing, Nightingale, poetry, spring, summer, swallows
Nightingale (Photo credit: torugatoru)
A nightingale sings
a wistful melody.
The smell of cherry blossom
on a fresh spring tree.
The smell of lilac
will soon be here,
along with the swallows,
and the summer air.
© Simply Spring 2012
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
17 Thursday May 2012
I never was classed, ‘pretty’,
I was never deemed, ‘a babe’,
I chose instead to use my wit,
and walk the poet’s way.
My years of youth are over,
my life is halfway done,
philosophies from Yoda,
A wise old bird I am.
© A Spot of Silliness 2012
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
17 Thursday May 2012
Posted in Deep Stuff!, Love, Poetry
Tags
April fool, love, poetry, rain, soul
The rain it comes
and does not stop,
refreshing crisp and cold.
Wash clean and cleanse,
my tired eyes,
refresh my sleepy soul.
It burns my skin,
and wakes my sense,
it’s kind, but also cruel.
Wash out the dust,
lays bare our soul,
to cleanse the April fool.
© Rain 2012
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Solitary Raindrop, Hedon, East Riding of Yorkshire, England. This raindrop acted as a crude lens, focussing and inverting the trees behind it! (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
17 Thursday May 2012
Posted in Daily life, Poetry
I sit at my desk,
the whole house a mess,
pen gripped in my teeth,
musing.
Formed feelings I know,
as the words start to flow,
and I tap at the keys,
making verses.
Sometimes the poems spring,
from the deepness within,
some syllabic style skill,
weaving words.
The craft I possess,
with gymnastic prowess,
and a rhythmical rhyme.
Exhalation!
© Musing 2012
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
16 Wednesday May 2012
Posted in Deep Stuff!, Loss, Poetry
When we die,
we go to hell –
she cries.
That’s not true,
we learn to fly –
he says.
I think we stay,
reborn –
to live another day.
That can’t be!
We’re dead and gone,
for all eternity.
Some hymn sings,
we get our angel wings;
But I don’t care,
all I know, is
you’re not
here.
© Hell 2012
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Illustration from “Vivilore: The Pathway to Mental and Physical Perfection” (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
16 Wednesday May 2012
Posted in Deep Stuff!, Poetry, Worldly Winds
This image was selected as a picture of the week on the Czech Wikipedia for th week, 2007. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I am a contradiction!
Damaged and fragile,
a smashed up china doll.
Introvert and quiet,
a lone snowdrop,
passed unnoticed –
unwatched and unobserved.
Inside –
a cavern.
Older than time itself.
Deep and hidden,
solid,
like a foundation.
Ever there, ever present,
with a core of steel.
Immovable.
Determined.
A stormy winters night,
brooding and moody,
ethereal, transcendent,
not belonging.
Like a storm cloud passing through.
I am a contradiction,
with a beating
heart.
© Steel Snowdrop 2012
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
16 Wednesday May 2012
Posted in Daily life, Poetry
I saw an old man
dance a jig,
with betting slip,
waved as his flag.
With tombstone teeth
and nicotine nails,
long matted hair
and yellow wolf eyes.
His dirty clothes,
shone black with smoke,
his fragrance that of
proudest poverty.
I saw an old man
dance a jig today,
clutching victory,
by the betting shop door.
© Victory 2012
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Russel-Morgan Print of a Tramp smoking cigar with cane over arm (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Worldly Winds 