01 Friday Mar 2013
Posted in Longing & Waiting, Loss, Poetry, Waiting and Longing
Not a word,
not a word,
you do not grace me,
within, without,
I wait,
I wait,
with sullen pout.
My fate,
my fate,
How can it be?
So silently;
you give me,
not a thought,
not a thought.
© Silence 01.03.2013
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Silence (Photo credit: requiemm)
23 Saturday Feb 2013
Posted in Daily life, Poetry
Tags
anthology, appreciation, poetry, support, Thank you, UK poet, Yorkshire poet
Thank you everyone for continuing to visit my page. I apologise for my lack of activity. I have been working on my first anthology. I’m sorting out the last twiddly bits and hope to be releasing it in the next few weeks – watch this space!
In the mean time – here is a golden oldie. Thank you for supporting, inspiring and taking the time to visit, I really do appreciate it! Alex 🙂
I’m sorry if I don’t get to you,
I apologise, I’m slow,
four hundred plus emails,
my inbox about to blow!
I know I’m not quite regular,
at times I can be slack;
I promise I’ll try to visit you,
and leave a message back!
The spam thing – what’s all that about?
Messages, I just don’t get??
Enlarge my what?!! Increase my stats?!
Delete, delete, forget!!
I try my best, I really do,
so many blogs to read,
It’s becoming like a full time job,
an assistant, I so need!
I’d like to say to everyone,
who’s liked or followed me,
to each I’d give a big old hug,
you’ve all inspired me!!
© A Big Old Hug 2012
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Photo credit: Limited edition A cover (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
21 Thursday Feb 2013
Tags
Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, class system, class war, gunner, poetry, tax, tax avoidance, UK poet, Yorkshire accent, Yorkshire poet
The Old Gunner
Last one to go down
Fighting hard
A shooting star
Bucks the trend
Yet to what end?
Keep your feet to the fire
Squash the poor man down
Loopholes and promises
It’s gunner change
It’s gunner end
Taxing the senses
Try hard to pretend
Banking your pence’s
And yet to what end?
Ground moonbeams roasted
And fed to the masses
Who don’t ask questions
Morals and molasses
Standoff at Dodge City
Ten paces at dawn
Ethical genocide
Battle lines drawn
Highway robbery
Caffeine snobbery
Dead man’s boots
Amazonian roots
The Old Gunner
Last one to go down
Fighting hard
A shooting star
Bucks the trend
Yet to what end?
© The Old Gunner 21.02.2013
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Cowboy (Photo credit: Kevin Zollman)
11 Monday Feb 2013
Posted in Deep Stuff!, Muse
Tags
Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, dreams, muse, poetry, sleep, UK poet, writing, Yorkshire poet
Betwixt and between,
the poem and the dream,
the light and the night,
flows the unconscious stream.
Words play in my head,
from the land of the dead,
the stars and the moon,
hold the gossamer thread.
© Gossamer Dreams 11.02.2013
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Photo Credit – unknown – if this is your picture and you want it removed or credited to you, please do not hesitate to contact me.
10 Sunday Feb 2013
Posted in Deep Stuff!, Grief, Heartbreak, Longing & Waiting, Loss, Poetry
Tags
Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, betrayal, broken heart, daemons, heartbreak, longing, loss, memories, poetry, stars, UK poet, Yorkshire poet
Bury my heart upon the hill,
So I can count the stars,
deafened by my silent rage,
the world’s a critic and life’s a stage,
you sent me to an early grave,
to dance with my daemons,
in a barbed wedding gown,
you broke my crown,
and lowered me down,
so I can haunt the stars.
How dare you call my name,
when you are broken too,
more damaged and fragile than I,
I hope I made you cry,
in that balmy summertime,
occupy my body and mind,
I’ll bury my heart on the hill,
so I can dream of the stars.
Dedicated to my dear cousin Alan – may you rest in peace – you will be missed, I hope you can dance with the stars.
© Counting the Stars 10.02.2013
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Stars over Sea (Photo credit: overgraeme)
08 Friday Feb 2013
Posted in Daily life, Nature, Poetry
Scudding clouds,
September skies,
sleeping shrubs,
trees heave sighs,
for winter comes,
with amber sun,
scudding clouds,
signal summer’s,
done.
© September Skies
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
English: the forests in new hampshire in autumn (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
08 Friday Feb 2013
Posted in Childhood Memories, Poetry
Touching tree tops,
tasting God,
climbing hillocks,
kiss the clod.
© Carefree 08.02.2013
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
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)
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™)
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
Worldly Winds 