Margaret Alice Second

Margaret Alice Second Poems

But no, nothing helped when I tried to be myself
reading old books, even a new one on sixth sense
said I should take heed of every single pain my
body produced to determine what I think

Turandot, Puccini’s opera, told by stylised illustrations in a book
the heart of an Ice Princess frozen by the Moon Goddess, three
riddles posed to every Prince who wished to be her suitor on pain
of death if he could not get the answers right, beheaded by

Knowing the little alien in my head was filled
with discontent went to French class prepared
full well with a treat for it, Offenbach played on
an earphone in only the left ear

Tonight sheer ecstasy and bliss, first discovered Strictly
Come Dancing, I lose myself in those dancing heroines,
Vin Diesel in the movie XXX stole the show encouraging
the individual to make a difference, Wizards of Waverley

A sweet grey car replaced my noble Jeep,
it is utterly alien to me; oh, I always knew
this day would come, the Jeep's upkeep
was an extra expense we did not need

Thank you for representing life as a Gothic horror
with the nerve-wrecking shocks of demented men,
dad as Heathcliff, mom as Mr Rochester’s mad first
wife and you a strange mixture between Jane Eyre

Escape, for me, is reading a book
based on Terry Pratchett's 'Thief of Time' where
perfect moments are kept in a glass palace – I have
decided to dream about 'perfect moments' and keep

Admiring the cables in the jersey Alta knit, asked
her - May I photograph it? – she brought me the
pattern – Now you can knit one yourself - mistaking
cable enthusiasm for craftwork interest - and I

It seems I have missed the beauty of this day
at least I have learnt self righteous anger and
blame directed at me make me see the error
of my ways while creating no desire for

Still tired in spite of everything I have tried, my head
a dust-bag – miniature motes swirling within - the
slow whirlwind called my heartbeat growing weak,
wish I could sleep, one deep slumber to switch

On The Outside

At home alone - kids visiting
you asleep, Carine called, she

Power groups using civilians as pawns in a grand
game of chess, Mel Gibson's Scots in Braveheart,
Leon Uris' Arabs in The Haj - and African leaders
imitate them to great effect

Objects and things I can dream about
intrigue me, but political speeches close
my brain down, as I force my eyes to the
page of my translation document analysing

I’m dead, don’t know how or when I died
although I do know why – endless lists of
French political news items broadcast in
stereo-audio booming with journalists’

It is not a problem, of course, the Milky Way is
still attracted by a heavy object in defiance
of the general Hubble expansion

Belligerent discourse, each statement
aggressively confronts, an aggravated
inflexion rasps pugnaciously, grating
voice deepens ostentatiously for each

A fervent plea, an impassioned SOS to
the remote IT - Help, my computer's
failed; disciples of cool calmly reply,
bring us the CPU. CPU? Yes, it means

Incoherent people cannot talk, cannot
use words to convey their meaning, explain
what they are feeling, incoherent people can
only wonder about the forlorn meandering

Man, the living sundial, blood changing just
before sunrise and living life within three
rhythmic cycles - earth’s daily turning on
an axis, the moon monthly orbiting earth,

I do not care for political scandal and intrigues
because only those with the same moral guilt,
the same capacity for wrongdoing, throw the
stones, whenever they come to power they

Margaret Alice Second Biography

I'm a translator who loves languages for the music in it and suffer the grammar and other rules for the joy of hearing the cascading sounds rhythmically spilling over me. I live in South Africa and work in Pretoria as an undercover poet cum government official, still dreaming of 007 status - and who doesn't... Friday night 11 July 2014 Oh for to dance all night long, to swirl on the song, to twirl in my dreams where everything is how I want it to be... Saturday night 21 September 2013: As an Astrogenetic Cancerian Alice (with apologies to Linda Goodman and Lewis Carrol) I dutifully called my Leonine mom, the Queen of Hearts, who was happily ensconced in a Seance with her Myrmidons, and then I inadvertently tread on the toes of my Scorpion Beloved whose uncontrollable urge to sting all touching him, made him retaliate... To add insult to injury, when I withdrew into my shell, he accused me of hurting him with no concern for the way he stung me; so when my Aquarian daughter called me to task for leaving my plastic cushion in her bathroom, I threw the cushion out of the window, causing general upheaval... Such is the joys of domestic life - let it be known that I am leaving the reincarnational cycle and will move on to non-physical existence after this stint in the solar system; I find it a most ridiculous and self-defeating situation and do not plan to ever engage in Astrogenetic life again - ever... It is time to concentrate on making communication between dimensions possible and to that end I wish to move between as many dimensions as possible. Aha, at least and finally, I have formulated the purpose of my existence in my biography, how's that, Nietsche, Goethe et al? Friday 14 November 2011: Continuing life as Margaret Alice (Second) to show where my scribblings continue, is confusing – but I could not find my way in the chaos of my first posting site. Ah, and today, the air-con is off, my head is sore, fanatics held me enthralled when I should have been working to reach higher production numbers to earn my salary honestly –though that is impossible given that I failed to turn into a machine- in spite of all my attempts to die unto myself – I am sorry, being dead is just not possible while my spirit is so much alive – but the next batch of soul-destroying documents might just bring it to pass - hope never dies! Wednesday 9 November 2011: Two arrest warrants to translate, two nightmares - so I confide my overflowing feelings to paper - without impossible projects, with nothing to do; I stop writing also - so I suppose translation is the terrible inspiration that forces me to counter my inadequacy by writing words who are free - without the constrictions of a source text and the terrible limitations of an even worse target text! Sunday 16 October 2011 – I am a public servant who translates documents from the unpoetic original into prosaic terms in a target language while my soul is singing its own song inside… Monday 8 August 2011 - Let it be chronicled that I lost today, the headache did not go away, and tonight I am bored with my thoughts. I have lost the ability to transcend horrible times with pictures and thoughts, time to practice again... Since my previous Margaret Alice spot on Poemhunter got so clogged, people complained they could not access and read my poems, so I am continuing in a new spot - let's hope this will enable others to read Margaret Alice again...see my pictures and ideas at where I am Agent Snowflake, writing as Peanuts.)

The Best Poem Of Margaret Alice Second

' Enneagram (Revised)

But no, nothing helped when I tried to be myself
reading old books, even a new one on sixth sense
said I should take heed of every single pain my
body produced to determine what I think

I feel a stranger in my own skin after a day
doing Big Five & Enneagram questionnaires
– which classify me the most selfish, unhelpful,
self-centred human alive;

even fairy pictures in my Treasury of Children’s
Poetry failed to restore me; according to the
questionnaires, I am detrimental to people
I meet in social contexts - I am devastated

cannot believe I am the MEAN uncaring person
Jung’s questionnaire says; I shall explain to
those I love HOW MUCH I love them, but if it
is true, I wanted to MUCH be better than that –

am still trying as a matter of fact…

Margaret Alice Second Comments

Prabir Gayen 14 December 2018

Very talented poet of versatile beauty....

0 0 Reply
Chuy Amante 17 May 2016

a mind far beyond us mortals thanks for sharing! brilliant

0 2 Reply
p.a. noushad 10 May 2015

Dear Margaret Alice Second, your flowery verses touch my soul as stars dappled stream flows.

1 0 Reply
John Richter 23 January 2015

Margaret Alice, you either have one of the most wonderful imaginations in the world, or you are quite familiar with the little fellows in white coats who carry very large butterfly nets! Or is it Marilese? Or could you be my Kimberly, returning from a dimension worlds away, through and from so many vanishing doors? Every time I find her she seems to slip away again... I think she was a hermit crab one time, and I couldn't bring myself to eat her. It was much easier when she was human. Some times if Golam, speak like I, hiding she will come out of. So try I, try I, try I, and over over. But then, sees she only me, and her dragons upon fly away her. In any regard, lovely, your poems are. Found you, happily so, certainly me.

1 1 Reply
Patti Masterman 09 November 2011

This may be Margaret Alice Second- but there could only ever be one Margaret Alice; so true, so honest and approachable, eloquent and expansive and inquiring mind in the Cosmos..

5 2 Reply

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