Magic Of Words 2. Poem by Margaret Alice

Magic Of Words 2.

Rating: 3.0


Taking my attention away from unwanted
things, surfing the Internet, listening to the
soothing tones of rational voices; following
logical reasoning explaining various recipes
for joyous living, realizing the sky is blue and
the autumn sun is shining beautifully, Tiaan
is returning from a camp

A million questionnaires waiting for attention
means I’ve got a job until Kingdom come,
bureaucratic procedures proliferating means
everybody lost in the woods with me, luckily
I’ve got colleagues who formulate their lives
around administrative excellence, who plays
Suduku for relaxation; with them in charge

There is no reason for me to be scared of
anything, the Black Hole that pulsates in the
centre of the galaxy formed by my circling
thoughts in the infinitude of my mind can’t
swallow me, I’m reading “Wee Free Men”
by Terry Pratchett, meeting up with Tiffany,
her excellent understanding, independent

mind the best solace I can find, she bashed
a nasty creature with a saucepan, I love that
image, a little girl looking like Wednesday
from the Adam’s family walking about armed
with a saucepan, a delicious idea, the magic
of words is setting me free…


Isolation Of Cold Desolation 1.

Brought two autumn leaves to work today,
chill is in the air, the ‘Oom André tree’ is
already yellowing, I feel depressed beyond
description, listening to Haydn through my
earphones and crying for no reason, alone
at my workstation without an uplifting vision,
I can’t make my peace with the change of
season, I hate the dying process with a
vengeance, the cold fingers enclosing my
heart every morning with the air so cold,
the slow dying of plants in the garden, oh
give me mid-winter when all is dead, dry
elephant grass golden or gray in the fields,
but the process of turning colder so slowly
has me crying all the time, the strong silver
sun turning into a soft golden orb, I must have
been a bird in one of my former lives, must
have flown away to warmer countries, to stay
means such sadness – unmotivated so I can’t
tell anyone, just walking about with my throat
constricted, I must do something illegal and
totally wrong to break the chain clasping my
heart, strangling me, an isolation
of cold desolation…

Oom André tree: An oak tree we received as
a gift from my uncle and we call it by his name.

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Margaret Alice

Margaret Alice

Pretoria - South Africa
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