Colouring My World

No need to change my mind - only need
to change my feelings, the light shining
from my eyes colouring my world; in
need of fun, to laugh loud and long

Used to joke about the seven dark nights
of the soul - now I'm living one terribly
long drawn-out night without laughter
in my eyes; where did it all go wrong

Can I win back the fantasies that used to
bolster me making my way through dead
monuments of dried-up documents, I am
bored unto death sitting here

Nothing creative in my day, no-one to share
my sense of the ridiculous, no-one to go out
and play; all oppressed by duty and routine-
please shine the light of fun

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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Nothing At All

I have fallen out of my life, I am not present
within the outline which indicates where the
real me should be, no feelings, no dreams

The hope I harboured inside proved to be
without meaning – I have forgotten what I
used to hope for, nothing new to replace

What used to be, just cold emptiness in my
heart, wait, my heart is lost, freezing again
like I did as a child, no significance left

Life was like this in the beginning, the great
divide between virtual warmth, a good book,
a piece of music, a story - and -

The emptiness of real life without room for
emotion as an ever-increasing descent in-
to a million small deaths on a daily basis

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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Multifarious Perspectives

After this wild ride on the waves of emotion and passion
I can hear my second and third thoughts again, I can see
the multifarious perspectives and angles and questions
involved, the authors use illusions to present the choices
to young readers

Choose, your life or your love, your love's favourite or
yourself, choose whether you are willing to sacrifice
yourself on behalf of your love, quietly serving behind
the scenes - and the result of these choices are enacted
for us, now I feel enriched

By these glamorous stories of valour and courage which
are emphasised in defeating attacks by demon powers -
and in deciphering the deception within the powers-that-be
trying to formulate a life-strategy, making sense of the
chaos our senses discern

In the magical world around us…

poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Coven Of Books

Luckily my new red chair does not
provide the care I expected, thus
soft cover copies of "The Choice
for Love" by Rodegast and Stanton
and "La Grammaire à l'Oeuvre" by
Barson have to support my back

Keyboard elevated upon Harrap's
New French/English Dictionary &
screen perched atop Webster's 3rd
International Dictionary, children's
books, Oxford Hachette and old
diaries strewn about me

It is lucky I love books in all forms,
constructing a coven of books the
next best thing to actually reading
enchanting volumes; many eye-
witness accounts attest to the
existence of Akashic records

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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Figurines (Revised)

Belatedly the sun’s late rays gild my sweet
menagerie of little figurines each afternoon
I see and am enchanted knowing who has
sent the golden beams embrace, entrancing
chinaware in pairs (I do prefer they be in twos)
my two mermaids, the two small fairies on a
sailor’s chest, the porcelain shepherdess

The sun is mischievous and clearly shows the
gathered dust, I’ll have to get a glass dome for
my troupe to keep them clean, but watching
now just how the light creates theatrical effects,
no need to burn this image in my eyes to keep
it safe in dimming sun, I run into the study where
I activate the light to gaze in wonder at

Two miniature mermaids, the broken fairy, legs
covered in glitter, mounted on a bejeweled
mirror, oh, how I love these precious
figurines…

poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Unlock My Mind

Can’t see, can’t think, can’t feel, dark inside, sitting
in the light with my colleagues, breathing darkness,
saw a psychopath on TV last night killing everyone
in sight, no remorse, feeling like I do now, losing all
connection to life, inability to work out what is wrong
keeps me at my post, reading official texts of which
one is lost, search function reveals it in archives

If only I could search, find and unlock my mind to
release it from mental archives also - I might just
be able to function, till then I remain a psychopath,
though lacking the charismatic energy of last night’s
criminal to commit any nefarious deeds - feeling
too tired to make any decisions, too tired to live
while lacking the know-how to die; what an

Awful situation, head stuffed with lead…

poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Illegal and Forbidden (2nd revision)

Changed chameleon-like into my
purple-pink office regalia - symbolised
by fleece, blanket and flowers in pink,
changed to blue by windscreen shade
held in place by green cool drink
bottles and blue dictionaries to block
icy air-flow from our Siberian air-con
wearing a man's blue jacket illegally
negates attempts to blend purple
and gold; chilled I drank illicit coffee,
ate forbidden chocolate; showed my
pink, purple, violet and green note-
book to my friends, Ulrike, Hanlie,
Winston, a waitress and Alet
blue aura amends to Tinker Bell green
but pink fleece vanishes into indigo
sheen - after mind enriched tooth
brushing I'm ready to tackle menacingly
illegible arrest warrants advising
heinous criminality tho' delinquency

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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Cope With It

Some ideas are beautiful
like lions being noble kings
but seeing the lion feed with
bloodied mouth and flies a-
round his head, is horrible

The idea of nature being in
synch, an animal only taking
what it needs to eat - sounds
perfect - but seeing a buffalo
mom abandoning her calf

To stay safe with the herd is
heartbreaking - idea is good
but execution terrible, some
things are charming only in
theory, symbol, allegory

The real life situation of blood
death and dust, does not in-

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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Figures In There Somewhere (Revised)

Came home to a brightly coloured work text
with Edith Piaf's life resounding in my head,
read a Roger Bootle (Fortune magazine) écrit
on PIIGS (probable Euro-split, Portugal,
Ireland, Italy, Greece & Spain) explained

And Edith Piaf's life intervenes, paging too
violently in the magazine, reading a heading
Dad Doesn't Have Hobbies, He Has Passions
Tom Ricketts said; admonished by my love
I rest the magazine, time to get rid of

Edith Piaf's passions in my head, her words
ringing in my ears - what's the use of being
Edith if I cannot do what I want? It may be
why being Margaret Alice fails, I cannot do
what I want, becoming instead

Expert at hiding desire from myself; I shall
never know what I really want except that

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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Not Home Tonight

Tiaan not home tonight, Nici nowhere in sight,
Martin surviving his life, I am watching X factor
alone, Tiaan introduced me to the programme
last week; without his presence, I am by myself

I miss my son’s sardonic humour, his smile, his
long-suffering patience when his dad comes down
on him and his friends; his Stoic acceptance when
his acerbic, hostile Scorpion dad administers a

Sting to his knight-in-shining-armour image; Tiaan
filled with zeal to help those suffering, while his dad
wants him to set rules and self-interest above all else
- Tiaan so enthusiastic about life, concerned to

- earn the marks he deserves, to build a six-pack,
to take care of us, becoming a dedicated cook; oh
how I miss him – though I am so proud of his new
self-confidence visiting his friends…

poem by Margaret Alice Second
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