Phantasmagorical 6 - 1 Poem by Margaret Alice

Phantasmagorical 6 - 1



Rearranged hubby’s pencil sketch
etched in steel against the wall
attached a butterfly in blue, eying
another necklace to take apart,
baubles of see-through beads
resembling dewdrops to be affixed
to my computer at Kingsley, looked
at my reflection mirrored on the wall,
is that really me? – I can identify with
the smile, but the other expressions
seem foreign in the extreme – and
the dream I had, was that me, could
it really be – that one day I’ll meet
my destiny? Actually, it doesn’t matter,
just imagining such an entity is good
enough, while anchored to family, kids
to clothe and feed, keeping my little
girl’s secrets, cherishing my own
fantasies – life can be
phantasmagorical
if we let it be….

I March 2009


Men From Mars 5.

Insomniac me, tossing and turning in bed,
got up and started typing instead, listening
to Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite with ear-
phones on my head, thus blocking the noise
from the TV where Tiaan is watching like a
real senior, enjoying the heckling in ‘Top Gear’

He now has rugby gear to try out for a place in the
school team, I had hoped it would be a passing phase,
but he wants to play a game in which the main aim is to
injure your opponent; let him lose interest, I pray, or at
least play without too many savages about, watching him
grow presents a show of a little boy

Donning the clothes of grown men, no longer his mama’s
own, belonging to himself and the big world outside, while
his dad is tearing his hair from his head about his little girl
talking about boyfriends, unable to cope with sharing her,
his dad does not worry about his son, only focused upon
keeping his little girl from growing up

How different we are, men from Mars, women from Venus,
both worry about their children for different reasons, instead
of trusting in the benevolent universe, allowing their kids to
make their own mistakes; I trust that my daughter will follow
the principles she made her own, that Tiaan will fight off the
savage hordes in future rugby wars…


Books I love 4.

Enjoying my Saturday treat, reading a book
about magic glasses by Maurice Gee from
New Zealand, they change the world into a
more beautiful place, belong to the Moon-
girl from another space

The evil Grimbles are looking for them to take
over an enchanted world on the other side of
a gate to change it into a desert, like their own
world, a girl hid them in her hut among the
lovely plants in her garden

Hubby makes angry bull noises about sports
on TV while I read my book about magic and
absorb so much, I feel like a magical person
myself, all the enchantment I’ll ever need is
right here in my hands

Luckily I read Agatha Christie, Sherlock Holmes,
D.H. Lawrence and Henry James while still young,
now in my old age I only have fun, reading books
I love – children’s stories and New Age spiritual,
I got the pain of being human out of the way

With a degree to prove that I have looked into
painful modern philosophy, today feeding the
fire of feeling in my breast - never again do I
have to face the sad defeatism of Sartre
and the rest!

Maurice Gee ‘The World Around The Corner’
Oxford University Press 1980

28 February 2009


Caressing My Ears 3.

Got some exercise, marching double beat
to Gé Korsten’s operatic rendition of Liefling,
skipping to Kaboemmielies, had to stop when
people appeared, keeping up appearances,
secretly walking like a drum majorette to make
the walk interesting, gum-boot-jumping to
Schuster’s rugby song when no-one’s looking,
the music in my ears changes walking for health
into an adventure, making me feel ten years
younger, jumped into the pool afterwards,
became a crocodile floating in the coolness,
now I am the Southern Scribe typing happy
words while listening to Carmen, small boys
marching like ‘les petits soldats’ while the
lovely alto voice of Carmen is caressing my
ears, the orchestra going into overdrive…

28 February 2009


My Sacred Space 2.

You listened to Leonard Cohen again,
full volume, I fought back by creating
my own space with the headphones in
my ears, listening to The Merry Widow
by Léhar - drowning out Cohen’s music
you force on us, used to press my fingers
in my ears to exclude noise as I lay in bed
at night - or when my parents argued

I refuse to listen to ugly noises splashing
like dirty water over me, hurting my ears,
at school climbing through the window to
read on the front porch, sought solitude by
climbing on the roof, at work the earphones
create a barrier against the open-plan office
incessant noise like gunshots in my head, no
more forced listening to your Cohen CD

Washing dishes with The Merry Widow in my
ears, now listening to the Phantom with the
earphones plugged into the laptop, creating
my own sacred space, escaping the tyranny
of sounds….

27 February 2009


Invading My Space 1.

Darkness descending, night unending,
clouds all cold and grey, sun appearing
creating whiteness uniform, no golden-
yellow warmth today, your frustrations
are invading all my space; driving home
you swear at every interfering driver, the
car has no power, stupid road-hogs every-
where, you lecture kids in language spiced
with uncouth expressions – they are not
allowed to use the same, even dreaming
of your curses, waking drenched in sweat,
thunder and lightning all I hear each day, at
night all exhausted, feeling threats from all
directions, tired of trying to remain calm until
you rant and rave again, please -
give us a break…

27 February 2009

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Margaret Alice

Margaret Alice

Pretoria - South Africa
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