Three Orange Cats 4. Poem by Margaret Alice

Hot chocolate and three orange cats
called Aries, Leo and Sagittarius, to
find the mouse that will help the sorcerer
get back into his picture, back to Tudor time

A two-hundred year old shape-shifter called
Yolanda who presents as a twelve-year old
child called Belle Donner, deadly nightshade,
a rat called Rembrandt

Now I’m ready to face the day, thank you Jenny
Nimmo for writing this story about a Blue Boa who
makes its victims disappear, just the right sparkle
to magick my rainy day!

19 March 2009


Exotic Names Balm My Soul 3.

This is as far as I can go in deprivation
of sensory stimulation, just click-click as
we type, no music in my ears, the Walkman
left at home, boredom pulling my scalp tight

The only solution - read my book furtively,
a Mr Onimous with 3 cats saved the dog
‘Bean Runner’ - an invisible boy who likes
jam and whose big toe is visible, regrettably

An academy for teaching art and music, a boy
called Fidelio, a Mr Boldova – the exotic names
balm to my soul, my colleague Jane studying
Translation Theory and an even more

Enchanting name - Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi –
translation as peak experience - if creative
imagination is allowed, translators being
actors and musicians – Gloria!

I’d better go out into the passage and sing
some more, Dominique-nique-nique s’en
allait tout simplement – I’ll go with him –
routier, pauvre et chantant -

And sing with him - Gloria
In Excelsis Deo!

18 March 2009


Eyes Upon the Horizon 2.

Left to my frustration –
the Internet doesn’t open
up, when it does, it is
slower than a snail, no
music in my ears, took
a stroll around the block
singing to myself, all my
favourite old Dutch hymns
and Latin chants - Ave, Ave
and Benedictus, Psallite Deo
Nostro – goodness filled my
soul, peace descended in my
heart, felt the beauty of
dedication to ideals
spreading warmth
into the day, Onward
Christian Soldiers
and Kumbaya, my
mind is cleansed,
hope rekindled,
my eyes upon
the horizon…

(Well, it was true until I tried
to opened PoemHunter – then
I tore more hair from my head,
I may not sing in open-plan squatter
camp, if I could, I would have sung:

“Ein Stimm begunnt zu klagen, von
derben Leid und Traurigkeit ist mir
das Herz zerflossen – die Blumelein,
mit Tranen rein, hab ich sie all
begossen)


Throbbing In My Ears 1.

Clever non-physical entities say it is a
privilege to live on planet earth in physical
capacity, but I’ve got news for them – to be
at the mercy of the senses, listen to noises
I don’t want to hear, see things

That hurt my feelings, feel the throbbing in
my head is NOT a privilege – it is an awful
spell in Purgatory, once confronted with life
as is without my survival kit, I can’t find joy
in possessing awareness

My positive book says I need only create a
virtual reality to feel good, well I’ve got news
for them; when my head is sore, reality
falls out of my hands like a red-hot ball
of fire, and no amount of

Virtual manipulation reinstates my feeling
great until the right pill targets the source
of pain in my head, once I’m hungry, there
is no way I can discern the sublime
in a burning stomach

And the throbbing in my ears…

18 March 2009