Mum

28 Thursday Jun 2018

Posted by Worldly Winds in Death, Poetry

≈ 6 Comments

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Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poetry, loss, Mum, poetry, writing

March 69 Mum and me

For my Mum…

I looked through the window,

I thought I saw you;

just a hint of a memory

that I wanted to view.

A past life once lived;

a deep memory pain.

I had to control myself

from calling your name.

Her walk was all wrong

and her hair, not the same,

but she had the same clothes

as I saw in my dream.

I followed behind her

and hoped to see

that it really was you

as you used to be.

I knew it was futile

and couldn’t be true;

you’ve been gone these six years,

it couldn’t be you.

Alexandra Carr-Malcolm 2012

I Am Doing This For You

15 Saturday Jul 2017

Posted by Worldly Winds in Childhood Memories, Death, Poetry

≈ 10 Comments

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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

Karen

12 Wednesday Jul 2017

Posted by Worldly Winds in childhood, Poetry

≈ 3 Comments

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Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poetry, childhood, poetry, Worldly Winds poetry, writing

IMG_2708 (2)

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.

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Soldier On

28 Sunday Aug 2016

Posted by Worldly Winds in Daily life, Poetry

≈ 3 Comments

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Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alex Carr-Malcolm poetry, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, humour, man flu, poetry, soldier on, summer cold, writing, Yorkshire poet

Oh dear… I seem to have a summer cold! How does that happen? Only one thing for it – A Duvet Day! I thought I would share this golden oldie, it always makes me smile!

Farewell cruel world,

I’m leaving you,

it’s not a cold,

I’ve got the ‘flu.

It may well be,

my final breath,

my nose is red,

I feel like death.

Please don’t mourn,

when I am gone,

go on without me…

soldier on!

© Soldier On… 03.11.2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Photo Credit : http://9laughs.com/go-on-without-me/

Cinnabar Wings

18 Monday Apr 2016

Posted by Worldly Winds in NaPoWriMo 2016, Poetry

≈ 7 Comments

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Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alex Carr-Malcolm poetry, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, Cinnabar Wings, napowrimo, NaPoWriMo 2016, NaPoWriMo16, poetry, writing, Yorkshire poet

Cinnabar Wings

cinnabar wings

beating out

arrhythmic love

on a petrified heart

factional soul mates

behemoth burns

a cloying shadow

silhouetting souls

reflected, distorted

moth to the flame

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Circle Dance

17 Sunday Apr 2016

Posted by Worldly Winds in NaPoWriMo 2016, Poetry

≈ 4 Comments

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Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alex Carr-Malcolm poetry, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, Circle Dance, napowrimo, NaPoWriMo 2016, NaPoWriMo16, poetry, writing, Yorkshire poet

Circle Dance

Tell me why we dance the round

fingertips touching

feet on the ground.

This sweet wine tastes

of bitter allows

mother’s ruin,

sloes and arrows.

We spin around

and you leave me reeling,

the Judas kiss

was still deceiving.

I pledged to you

a barbed ring oath,

life shot me down

and stole your troth.

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Finding The Silent Ones

10 Sunday Apr 2016

Posted by Worldly Winds in Buddhism, NaPoWriMo 2016, Poetry

≈ 7 Comments

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Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alex Carr-Malcolm poetry, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, Buddhism, finding the silent ones, napowrimo, NaPoWriMo 2016, NaPoWriMo16, poetry, UK poet, writing, Yorkshire poet

I wrote the poem below whilst on a retreat called ‘The Mythic Context’. It is a metaphor for seeking – it could be seeking happiness, seeking wisdom or seeking where we fit into the universe. This is one of my favourite poems. The sequel is in my latest anthology ‘Counting Magpies – Limited Edition’ and is titled ‘No Bell’. If you would like a copy please contact me direct 🙂

Finding the Silent Ones

I will scour the darkest forest

and glide through mango groves

searching for the silent ones

who travel the same road

I will fight the fiercest oceans

and plunge to deepest depths

searching for the silent ones

who sing with silent breath

I will trek across the deserts

leaving no grain of sand unturned

searching for the silent ones

for whom my heart doeth yearn

I will scale the highest mountain

and dwell within dark caves

searching for the silent ones

whom I hope to find some day

I will raft the rabid rapids

and abseil from peak to floor

searching for the silent ones

whom they say exist no more

I will comb the Sunkist beaches

and skim the silvery surf

searching for the silent ones

rumoured to roam this earth

I will search the church and chapels

and cathedral spires and tombs

searching for the silent ones

whom dwell in catacombs

I will tiptoe to the shrine room

and bow with folded hands

and here I’ll find the silent ones

my kith, my kin, my clan.

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Spontaneous

09 Saturday Apr 2016

Posted by Worldly Winds in Acrostic, NaPoWriMo 2016, Poetry

≈ 5 Comments

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acrostic, Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alex Carr-Malcolm poetry, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, napowrimo, poetry, Spontaneous, Uk poetry, writing, Yorkshire poet

This acrostic came about from a conversation with a good friend. I went to visit her and upon arriving on her doorstep she suggested we drive to the seaside. I admired her spontaneity, and she responded that she could only be spontaneous with a lot of thought and planning 🙂

Spontaneous

Superbly

Planned

Obviously

Needing

Time

And

Nouse;

Executed,

Organised and,

Uniquely

Spontaneous.

Oh yes!

I can be spontaneous,

as long as I have

enough time

to plan!

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Black and White Barb

20 Wednesday Jan 2016

Posted by Worldly Winds in Poetry, Publications

≈ 5 Comments

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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

War Child

05 Saturday Dec 2015

Posted by Worldly Winds in Anger, Death, Poetry, Publications

≈ 18 Comments

Tags

Alex Carr-Malcolm Counting Magpies, Alex Carr-Malcolm poet, Alex Carr-Malcolm poetry, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, Counting Magpies, Counting Magpies Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, Counting Magpies Anthology, Counting Magpies Poetry, Counting Magpies War Child, poetry, UK poet, war, War Child, War Child Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, war poetry, writing, Yorkshire poet

Good news!

The paperback version of Counting Magpies is imminent! I will also be releasing a limited edition edition. The limited edition will contain three bonus poems and will be signed by my own fair hand. If you choose, I will also hand write one of my poems of your choice inside the book.

In the meantime here is a poem from Counting Magpies – a sneak preview!

Click on the picture of the book to take you to Amazon.

War Child

War child, far child,

not in my back yard child,

foul flies, infesting eyes,

freely grief is advertised.

Blasé news, propaganda views,

stretchered to the blues and twos.

Feuding plans, dividing clans,

charity absolving man.

Splitting heads, landmines, legs,

rubberneck, the child who begs,

behind the eyes, traumatized,

rape and murder legitimized.

Arms and gear, year on year,

dealers, spreadsheets, profiteer,

bankers, warlords, politician,

making schisms, capitalism.

War child, far child,

not in my back yard child.

Taken from Counting Magpies 2015

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Worldly Winds

~ It's not easy being me!

Tag Archives: writing

Mum

I Am Doing This For You

Karen

Soldier On

Cinnabar Wings

Circle Dance

Finding The Silent Ones

Spontaneous

Black and White Barb

War Child

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