A deflated Monday reality and I fail blowing
life into it, all is boring, dull, and listless; my
eyes usually manage to bestow magic but
not today - my ears hear nothing but a soft
hushing sound of the air-con behind me
Stranded in nowhere-land wishing instead it
were Alice's Adventures - magic present in
singing flowers, mushrooms to change one's
shape and a Mock Turtle dancing the Lobster
Quadrille; all watching the Archchancellor*
Of Unseen University marching in, unfolding
his compartmentalised hat while cursing* in
stinging insects which make everyone cringe
- the Disc-World certainly does add aplomb
to the pack of Wonderland cards - while
Death, delighted with time, goes diamond-
hunting and tango-dancing, I'm quite sure
the Mock Turtle would like to add the tango
to his repertoire - while a twinkling Little
Prince watches as he passes on his way
To his own planet & his unique rose unlike
any of the others he's found - there's a
place in my heart already filled with magic,
where a Prince's golden statue is stripped
to help people in need - a place where
The scent of holy incense fills the cathedral
of peace constructed of familiar dreams…
[Archchancellor* = spelled as one word in all
Terry Pratchett's books
cursing* in stinging insects: every time the
Archchancellor utters a curse, another stinging
insect appears]
[18 August 2014]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem