Taste /Zest For Life (R) Poem by Margaret Alice Second

I was unwilling to be working with the broken air-con;
started humming snatches of old songs: Blue Spanish
Eyes & old Dutch hymns - prayerfully I started floating
as peace filled my heart, followed the rhythm going to
Human Resources - a den of iniquity originating new,
idiotic decrees - danced my way there hands aloft and
felt so good, came back - filled in the leave form

Ready for my Cape trip to face my angry Duchess who
says dieting fouls her temper, so beware, & keep quiet
as Scorpio taught me - then it’ll be fine; she argues with
Mom & gallant Pete - must prepare for retorts that may
electrocute my mind, delete years ’til I’m just five years
old - better take books & my laptop, sit quietly until she
feels better - prepared for a broken-spring bed which

Endangered my last visit’s sleep; watch dad’s twinkling
eyes enjoying his favourite music, Oom Chris Blignaut
& Silver de Lange playing concertina, delighting in his
joie-de-vivre taking tea with his 90-year old best friend,
a supposed Sir who tills the garden - we think but can’t
be sure, listen as mom syncopates Schubert % Chopin -
but plays Debussy with feeling; wish I could embroider

Or crochet to fit into the scene - knitting with the pink
fluffiness of a Miss Marple while my parents run about
with zest for life that few young people can emulate…


[ORIGINAL: ]

Taste For Life

Unwilling I was, coming to work with broken air-con,
started humming snatches of old songs; Blue Spanish
Eyes & old Dutch hymns, prayerfully I started floating
as peace filled my heart, I followed the rhythm going to
Human Resources - that den of iniquity coming up with
new, idiotic decrees - danced my way there hands aloft
and felt so good, came back and filled in the leave form

Ready for my trip to the Cape to face my angry Duchess
who says dieting gives her a foul temper so beware, keep
quiet as Scorpio taught me then all will be fine, she argues
with Mom & gallant Pete, must prepare for retorts that may
electrocute my mind & delete the years till I’m just 5 years
old - better take books and my laptop, sit quietly until she
feels better - prepared for a broken-spring bed which

Made sleep difficult on my last visit; watch dad’s twinkling
eyes as he enjoys his favourite music, Oom Chris Blignaut
and Silver de Lange playing concertina, delighting in his
joie-de-vivre as he has tea with his best friend, a 90-year
old supposed Sir who tills the garden – we think but can’t
be sure, listen as mom syncopates Schubert & Chopin –
but plays Debussy with feeling, wish I could embroider

Or crochet to fit the feel of the scene: knitting with the pink
fluffiness of a Miss Marple while my parents run around with
a zestful taste for life that few young people can emulate…