Heaven – Crocodile Haven
Diving into the swimming pool
feeling as if
the back of my head
is cut away with a scalpel
intense cold like an electric fire
burning my face and my feet
the invigorating feel is wonderful
swimming to and fro
shiny diamond and crystal drops
spraying in the brilliant sun
this is heaven – crocodile haven
when I get out
I’m too frozen to walk about
soak in a warm bath for an hour
crocodilean paradise - this is what
crocodiles are born for!
poem by Margaret Alice
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F: Being A Fool In Your Eyes
Watching the new release
of Pride And Prejudice
once again struck by
the restrictions
placed on people back then
the strict self-discipline
the eyes were the only
means to convey
deeper feelings
And I cried
because of your eyes
and mine
conveying an angry message
all too often – whenever
your routine is upset
your face turns into stone
with the coldest eyes
And the tears
[...] Read more
poem by Margaret Alice
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Fairytales Are Alive And Well In Tales Like These
A young man with magic abilities
resurrecting people from death
brought back his childhood
sweetheart
But once having touched her and
she’s alive, he cannot touch her
again lest she die, that is the way
of his life-giving magic
When she fell he could not catch
her, only when they were both
wearing beekeeper’s protective
clothing, could they waltz
To the music of Strauss –
fairytales are alive and well
on television in tales like
these…
[...] Read more
poem by Margaret Alice
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Fulfilment of All their Dreams…
Dunne’s theory is that there is a time one, two
and three – ad infinitum – with an infinite
number of me’s corresponding to each
Well, maybe it makes sense then that I have to
greet myself as Nile-Crocodile, comprising
Alice, Cinderella, and le Petit Prince
With invisible friends: Belladonna, Marguerite
and Mary-Ruadh, manifestations ad infinitum –
confirming the theory of the Multiverse
Where there is room for each of them – as well
as the fulfilment of all their dreams…
poem by Margaret Alice
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Fairyland 02.09.2009
Playground of our old school is a
wonderland of rising hillock with
steep sides abounding in small
holes turned into fairy dells
I swept them with a broom
exposed coloured stones
leaf decorated, artfully
arranged fir tree needles
I remember fresh smell, sunbeams
glistening in dust, beauty of my
fairy valley, joy and peace
played alone, by myself
The dream of creating fairyland
lingers on in glittering fairy
figurines next to
my bed
[...] Read more
poem by Margaret Alice
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Delighted, Delirious! 22.09.09
The house is in good taste except
next to my bed, a water hyacinth
and white flowers, a riot of pink
a little doll, glittering fairy
wings in a purple hue
Books and pictures of fairies
stuffed animals, sea-shells on
a string, a shiny butterfly, purple
beads, no-one can take my kitsch
away
No-one can criticise my taste in
my room, I am rich when I look
at my treasures, as precious as
beautiful thoughts, my production
sheet was correct
For the first time ever - I am
so glad, so delighted
[...] Read more
poem by Margaret Alice
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An Element Of Fun 7.22.2008
A dream – all things possible in love –
and it must be so, as spiritual guru
and romantic poet both assert, should
we believe and desert the cold logic of
rational thought and the grey sobriety
of intellectualism?
Why not indeed, all things spiritual seem so
much more colourful and interesting than
faded common sense and dreary duty;
I for one will believe in love and fairies
because smiling while I’m working is
the spoonful of sugar that fills
Concentrating on the job-at-hand with
an element of fun!
poem by Margaret Alice
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Experience Of Feeling Thoughts
I’m so lonely, the crocodile said,
last night I read instead of going
to bed, this morning I can only
search for inconclusive
meanings in meditative contemplation;
not in surface conversations, I don’t
want to know How Are You?
rather tell me how you FEEL
to break the stream of morbid thoughts
on existential isolation on a day in
which a haunting melody seems
more real than cold, unsmiling
faces, words as symbols can’t
convey the tactile feel of textures,
nor describe the experience of
feeling thoughts...
poem by Margaret Alice
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Velvet Atmosphere
Sunday morning 5 September 2008
Ah, the velvet atmosphere of
our own local shop, cosy and
small, finding everything easily
While the big, new supermarket
is garish and cold, a shopping
trip becomes a marathon walk
Buying a specific product becomes
a mind-boggling exercise, the check-
out till a hostile place without goodwill
While our local shop stocks fairies and
writing material at the pay-point - I can
feast my eyes and delight my mind
Waiting in line to pay; soft lighting, a
smiling cashier, a warm atmosphere...
poem by Margaret Alice
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Doing Boring Work Is a Form of Masochism…
Well, another day gone, maybe after
composing this elegy to my feisty
heroine I will be able to do some
translating and focus enough to do
filing, otherwise another day spent
in daydreaming - it is not of my
choosing, it’s getting out of control –
though it has never been different
I was just more used to stopping myself
before I got lost in my imagination
but nowadays I just lack the motivation
to stop indulging in stories evolving in
my head – besides, doing boring work
without inspiration is a form
of masochism…
poem by Margaret Alice
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