2010/04/24 The Frogs Poem by Margaret Alice

Unusual weather in April, it rains and rains
I am trying to translate a hodgepodge of
letters to the President, a French author
recommending himself for a Nobel prize
another complaining about heathens

I try to retain my sanity and fool my brain into
rejuvenation by listening to the same Children’s
Stories of my primary school days, Tiaan ran away
shouting - so I tried Min Shaw hiccupping her way
through Kokkewiete in imitation of Dominique, and

Evening Song of the Birds, Lance James crooning
along, who knows where this originally came from,
when I concentrate I can press out a few tears when
listening to this, Heino’s ‘Junge Kom Mal Wieder zu
Heim’ – Tiaan offering to have me institutionalised

Willem sagely nodding his head, he understands how
priceless sentimental memories of yesteryear, obediently
listening to Staal Burger as ordered by his Mom - finally
the noise is too much, Tiaan went cross-eyed when “The
Frogs’ Sports Top” were presented by the Rudolphs

I have forgotten how artificial the original stories; happily
convinced I have regressed thirty years after listening to
these youthful stories and songs, alienating my own child
I return to André Rieu’s rendition of Olé Guapa, luckily
Tiaan is watching rugby and does not see me

Dancing a tango all by myself – with an imaginary
partner, of course...