The Old Gunner

Cowboy (Photo credit: Kevin Zollman)

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

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Beyond Cinderella

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.

A Winning Formula

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.

Knitting Couplets

Illustration from “Vivilore: The Pathway to Mental and Physical Perfection” (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Knitting with syllables

pen and purl

lexical needles

pattern unfurls

pencils slip stitches

Rainbow Fin

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.

Striking the Blues

Iconic charming history,

repeats the sad refrain,

as, once more, we get screwed over,

we sing along again;

the blues echo a doleful tune,

and strike the same discord,

man mines the depths of misery,

Eternal Flame

Cremate me in your

fires of passion,

burn my soul

indelibly,

memories will

Culture Vulture

Graffiti Defender (Photo credit: SheffTim)

Karma Milano,

scrawled on a wall,

graffitied in letters,

four foot tall.

3:15 throwies,

an homage on bricks,

tag line, street culture,

for Sheffield six.

Acrostic poem: Pillows

P– Plumping pillows

I– Inviting sleep so

L– Lay down your head

L– Let dreams dance

O– Over your soul

W– Waltzing with the angels ‘til

S– Sunrise wakes slumber

© Pillows 2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Yorkshire

Yorkshire

My love affair with Yorkshire,

is strange to the extreme,

the rain comes down in stair rods,

as puddles turn to streams.

Flint faced buildings stand proud,

the natives just the same;

hard with a directness,

reflecting poverty’s pain.

Emptiness

With injured mood,

and heavy heart,

my mind does brood,

as soul departs,

from love ne’er found,

mere trickery,

of clocks o’er wound,

to life’s cruel frippery.

Natural Order

How can it be?

When it is not natural.

Not this way,

from the blind side.

Railway Sidings

Brake chain (Photo credit: slambo_42)

Industrial wastage,

with rust iron landscape,

electronic call, signals

an urban escape.

Becoming (her)

Looking Glass (Photo credit: Elena Kalis)

She looks in the mirror,

and stares in the glass.

Memories visual,

the haunting has passed.

Jacob’s Ladder

Curbar edge (Photo credit: Skinnyde)

Climbing Jacob’s ladder,

reaching for the stars,

flirting with the moonbeams,

it makes us who we are.

Dying To Meet You…

Did I tell you…

I’m dying to meet you,

I have to say,

I’m dying to meet you,

in every way.

Put on the kettle,

I’m coming home,

and it will feel,

like you’ve never been gone.

Day of the Dead

Church (Photo credit: Balaji.B)

I cry to the universe –

You decide!

Should I live,

or should I die?

Windermere

Still waters run deep

Injured hearts still weep

Lakes full of tears run dry

Sleek swans glide by

© Windamere 2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

The Other Side of Me

Punch and Judy’s Carribean Vacation (Photo credit: _william)

Do you know,

the other side of me?

Where the grass is greener,

and the soul is darker.

Do you know only,

my second face?

Not like the rest,

the one I keep for best.

The Swallow’s Farewell

Seemingly Surreal Swallows in a Spring Snowstorm (Photo credit: kdee64)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You took my dreams;

 

The swallows of my autumn years,

and banished them without a care.

You defiled and destroyed their virgin flight,

ones that remained have migrated to the winter sun.

 

So hopeful and fresh in the youth of their summer state.

But summer soon passed, and I did not see it happen.

The leaves of youth have fallen and…

the sorrow of winter tears cover them in frost.

I still hear their distant cries,

and the smell of their season.

Silhouettes and Soliloquies

The Eerie Cold (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’m hiding in the shadows,

it’s where I long to be,

drifting into dreamscapes,

singing sad soliloquies.

I have my other life, you see?

I’ve lived it since a child;

It’s not quite real – that I know,poem,poems

but I’ve lived it for a while.