07 Saturday Apr 2018
Posted in Poetry, Publications
Tags
Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm Parris, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poetry, Parris, Philip Lynott, Philip Parris Lynott, poetry, Worldly Winds poetry
If you would like to order a copy – please leave a message below.
03 Tuesday Apr 2018
Posted in Poetry, Publications
Tags
Alexandra Carr-Malcolm Parris, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poet, Parris, Philip Lynott, poetry, Worldly Winds poetry
Can you guess the link?
Copies available directly from me, or also available from Amazon.
01 Sunday Apr 2018
Posted in Poetry, Publications
Tags
Alexandra Carr-Malcolm Parris, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poetry, Dublin, Ha'pennyBridge, Parris, Philip Lynott, PhilLynott, poetry, Worldly Winds poetry
Happy Easter!
Below are the various links for Amazon. If there are any other countries that you need the link to, then please let me know in the messages below.
Alternatively you can order the book directly from me. The cost inclusive of postage is £7 within the UK. Anywhere outside of the UK, leave a message below and I will let you know!
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31 Saturday Mar 2018
Posted in Poetry, Publications
Tags
Alexandra Carr-Malcolm Parris, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poet, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poetry, Parris, Phil Lynott, Philip Lynott, Philo, poetry, Worldly Winds poetry
Hello!
I hope you are all having a lovely Easter break. My latest anthology – Parris is available either directly from me, or via Amazon. (The link is below.)
This anthology contains poetry about love, loss, and longing. The title Parris comes from Philip Parris Lynott, poet, songwriter, musician, and front man of Thin Lizzy. His writing, music and life story inspired me from being a teenager. There are references to his songs and life, blended with a good dollop of mythology!
Please feel free to contact me or leave a message below if you would like a copy.
11 Sunday Mar 2018
Posted in Daily life, Poetry
Tags
Alex Carr-Malcolm poetry, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poetry, birds, murmuration, starlings, Worldly Winds poetry
As I lay upon the grass
and gaze into the sky,
I see a flock of starlings
scoot and flit on by.
Starlings are a noisy bunch,
it’s true they cannot sing;
but they are, oh so graceful,
as they dance upon the wing.
As I lay upon the grass,
they swoop and glide on by.
I see a flock of starlings,
have a disco in the sky.
Murmuration 03.08.2013
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
22 Sunday Oct 2017
Posted in Children's poetry, Poetry
Tags
Alex Carr-Malcolm Tipping Sheep (the right way), Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poet, poetry, sheep, Sheffield poet, Tipping Sheep (the right way), upside down sheep, Worldly Winds poetry
I’ve not shared this one in a while – A poem inspired by my son whilst he was on his Duke of Edinburgh Expedition many years ago!
Copies of the book are still available from me – £5 plus postage. Please email me if you would like a copy.
worldlywinds@mail.com
With face of delight,
my son runs to me –
I’ve tipped up a sheep,
he shouted with glee.
My face drops with horror.
Well how could this be?
Am I the worst mother,
has he learned nothing from me?
“Calm down Mother!”
my son reassures.
“It’s not as you think,”
with derision he snorts.
“We walked in a field,
(in the group we were five,)
saw a sheep on its back,
with legs waving at sky.
It soon came apparent,
from what we could see,
that the sheep was so stuck,
‘twas a strange sight to see.
We tried hard to lift her,
but to no avail,
she was fat, wet, and smelly,
the weight of a whale.
Then out of the blue,
an idea did occur,
we spread out our groundsheet,
to roll her on there.
With one mighty tug,
we pulled the sheet up,
and the sheep it did tip,
(the right way up!)
So, off with a wobble,
and a, ‘baa,’ of delight,
the sheep she then trotted –
it was quite a sight!
So you see Mum, it’s true,
the things I did say,
we tipped up a sheep.”
(Thankfully – the right way!)
©Tipping Sheep (the right way) 2012
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
10 Tuesday Oct 2017
Posted in Poetry
Tags
Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, Chesterfield, loss, memories, Sisterhood, St Helena Chesterfield, St Helena Girls school, Worldly Winds poetry
In memory of a good friend – 1 year today –
For all those that have gone too soon.
Six sisters sailed into the world,
wide eyed and Brodie primed,
each on a quest and unprepared,
Pioneers before their time.
Some went in search of a rare red rose,
and others, too soon, gone;
they failed to find their mustard seed,
that would take them safely home.
Watched over by St Helena,
throughout their autumn years,
past lives and loves, and trials above,
spring cherry blossom tears.
Procrustean lives, we onward strive,
to be the crème de la crème,
through all the tears and ebbing years,
we’d do it all again.
Decades gone as life moves on,
has it been for the greater good?
The Cardinal flight, with the Spire in sight,
where we seal our sisterhood.
© Sisterhood 13.05.2015
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
22 Friday Sep 2017
Posted in childhood, Childhood Memories, Children's poetry, Poetry
Tags
Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poetry, childhood, childhood pets, goldfish, poetry, Rainbow Fin, Worldly Winds, Worldly Winds poetry
I had a fish called Rainbow,
the ugliest you’ve seen,
he was almost transparent,
showing heart, and spine, and spleen.
He seemed to live forever,
a hoopla prize, most fair,
he grew quite big and chunky,
and swam without a care.
He wasn’t a rare beauty,
neither rainbow, nor a jewel,
but my little girl’s heart loved him,
he was strange, and bold, and cool!
He swam around in circles,
gliding through his castle scene,
and he didn’t seem to mind much,
when neglect turned his bowl green.
Then, one day, to my distraught cries,
and my childhood at an end,
I found him quite lopsided,
my poorly rainbow friend.
He’d lasted ‘til his teen years,
it was a sad old day,
when I said a few old holy words,
and flushed him clean away.
Goodbye! my quirky rainbow friend,
I loved you ‘til the last,
‘tis fondly I remember thee,
you remind me of my past.
© Rainbow Fin 10.01.2012
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
fish bowl (Photo credit: Dean McCoy Photography)
15 Saturday Jul 2017
Posted 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
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.
© I am doing this for you 16.06.2014
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Photo Credit: Dave Bevishttp://www.drbevis.demon.co.uk/CILAAA01.htm
12 Wednesday Jul 2017
Tags
Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poetry, childhood, poetry, Worldly Winds poetry, writing
She wore it and bore it,
like an ill-fitting coat,
a name duly bestowed,
from his mistress’s throat.
Obsessed by the curse,
not her familial name,
an unfortunate victim,
of his clandestine game.
Dad told her a story,
again and again,
she should have been Phillip,
not a girl, shy, and plain.
This was cold comfort,
to be given this news,
as he’d also died young,
singing the sugar blues.
The Carpenter’s coat –
she wore that one too,
a mismatched fit,
she shrank from view.
She pondered a name,
ambiguous, and strong,
a spiritual death,
yearning to belong.
As she grew older and wiser,
and tired of this fate,
tipping the scales,
the deed sealed her fate.
The mistress was smug,
as her mother boohooed,
to use her new name,
they still staunchly refused.
Karen’s long gone now,
victim, weak, and lame,
too scared of life,
wearing that coat of blame.
It still cuts to the quick,
to be labelled as Karen,
a hollow reminder,
a moniker barren.
My choice name is Alex,
my phoenix rebirth,
from mouse to lion,
a feeling of worth.
I am sorry mother,
we were all taken in,
by the maleficent blarney
and their original sin.
© Karen 01.06.2015
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
