Joys Of Life (Revised)
Luxuriously caressed by camaraderie, Hanlie weaving
such threads of happy, bright-smile delight; June being
mischievously buoyant, Hermien devoted to conscien-
tious duty and an elfin interest in what is going on
while Mapula looks great
Ulrike an uplifting perfectionist determined to never hurt
anybody, making sure everyone is OK – finally, end of
day; while I complain about my incompetency Hanlie
is laughing; feeling inferior is one of the perks of the
job - she happily claims
As translators too often feel superior to scholars con-
fining themselves to academic posts; June reporting
a ‘healthy’ person happily donating blood on request
while her own was refused due to iron deficiency, we
recommend bed rest and medicine
Quoting Madame la Pompadour’s amazing strategy -
Hanlie an epitome of inner beauty, June doing thank-
less proofreading jobs – while I glow with inner
delight, wafting home in joyous surrender
to the joys of life…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Related quotes
Harps And Pitchforks
Came the clarion call – oh come, all officials, come
collect diaries and bags to prepare for next year,
obediently we trooped downstairs to receive a
mousepad flashing in orange fluorescence
Took an extra one for Madame Pompadour - missing
in action again; Hanlie took one for June who refused
to leave her chair, too enamoured of her computer
to move at all, this morning June lamented:
Vanity, vanity, all vanity; Hanlie checked Ecclesiastes
for grasshopper similes in four languages: Afrikaans,
English, German and French - June said she would
read the Apocrypha during December
I said I love Muslim stories about Jesus as a real little
cowboy when He was small – said to have shrivelled
his teacher’s arm – Hermien objected, claiming ‘The
little boy Jesus was as sweet as an angel! ’
Hermien has three sons herself, how can she believe it?
Humming happily I returned to my desk, started to edit
recalcitrant documents thinking; soon I shall be in the
veld - golden grass and the glorious sun
In an ineffable African sky – why should I worry whether
Hermien has seen the Apocrypha at all - the picture of the
little Jesus will forever hold sway in my heart - and since
the Church Fathers rejected reincarnation
I accept reincarnation as fact, rejoicing about life ever-
lasting - beyond harps and pitchforks…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Cresting Wave Upon Wave
How do I thank someone
who defended me against
a bully, how express my
gratitude and joy when
someone beautiful, with
a sweet disposition - so
mischievous and brilliant -
takes my side
Do I jump up and down -
shine with the sun, smile
at everyone, sing a song
or meditate on the delight
of a most accomplished
and intelligent, attractive
and wonderful person
Fighting for my rights -
how convey my thanks
in terms that would do
credit to her, how do I
describe a kindness
that fills my heart?
Thank you Hanlie
does not seem
to be enough…
With Hanlie Sonnekus as captain,
June Fredericks as steersman,
Hermien Liebenberg as bo'sun
and me as sailor, our ship is
cresting wave upon wave
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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A Wonderful Feeling (Revised)
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
dismantle, dissemble or disembowel
the beast, locate the malfunctioning
piece, balance precariously on a chair
with wheels and drag it down here
Security says disbelievingly, Oh no, you
must fill out this form in duplicate at
least, CPU detail, your name – and oh,
plus another for the chair;
Struggling with anxious sweat brow-
breaking and running unchecked down
my face, finally reach IT - my arrival
ignored – Please, I beg, sanitise my
virus-infected CPU – Tech Siyabonga
says, Ok, leave it, we’ll fix it soon and
abruptly leaves to teach me the true
meaning of ‘laissez-faire’ – deflated
return to empty desk noted by June
who offers use of desk-top spare, I’m
suddenly hub of activity – Mme La
Pompadour making funny remarks, a
baby crying somewhere, June and
Hanlie happily laughing creates a
safe atmosphere in which every
translation moment is blissfully
ensconced in a bright bubble their
dedicated work ethic creates, such
a wonderful feeling being part of
the show….
[ORIGINAL]
Ran down to IT – S.O.S - computer not
working - Bring the CPU, the disciples of
cool calmly replied; went back to dismantle
and drag a precariously balanced CPU
down on a chair with wheels
Oh no, Mr Security Man said, fill in this form
in duplicate, CPU detail and your name - and
another for the chair; struggling, sweat running
down my brow, finally got to IT - my arrival
ignored – Please, I begged, Please
Sanitise my virus-infected CPU – Yes, Siyabonga
said - Leave it, we shall attend to it eventually -
and left the office hands in his pockets to teach
me the meaning of ‘laissez-faire’ – deflated
return to my empty desk
June saw my distress, offered use of another
desk-top, suddenly I was in the hub of activity
Mme La Pompadour making funny remarks,
a baby crying somewhere, June and Hanlie
laughing happily - creating
A safe and warm atmosphere where every
translation moment is happily ensconced
in the bright bauble their dedicated work
ethic creates, such a wonderful feeling
being part of the show…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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16.07.2009 Sparkles In The Air (Rev.)
Wise and magical as Nanny Ogg and Granny
Weatherwax are Hanlie and June concocting
magical forms that do sums in proof of what
we’ve done so preparing a production sheet
becomes a breeze
It’s as good as having Hogwart’s Sorting Hat on
my head, the form reads my mind and gives me
answers telling my life, June showed me how
to gain more time for translations, Hanlie gave
me leave to do more research
Forgetting magic requires special treatment
Jane destroyed the form without respect; the
magical form inspired me to new agricultural
heights, safe within the form’s woven web
calculating fun allotted everyone
sparkles in the air, joy in the office – brought
about by our two local witches, June Ogg and
Hanlie Weatherwax; Jane could be Magrat the
confused and I could be Perdita, singing for
Christine in Maskerade…
From: Terry Pratchett “Lords and Ladies” and
“Maskerade” - two clever witches, Granny
Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg, a young witch
Magrat and a younger witch, Perdita, who
likes to sing.
poem by Margaret Alice
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Awareness (Revised)
Awareness of beauty grows lavishly while seated
among Jacaranda trees, green canopies caress
the sun with more divinity than mere words
embrace – it makes my heart swell in music ‘til
lighter than air I float off on the breeze
Luckily we are government officials anchored to
chairs facing a grindstone patiently; at least my
brave Calvinist colleagues are the most upstanding
people I have ever met and cannot be deterred by
anything as fractious as sheer beauty;
Hanlie spreading good humour & delight wherever
she is; Hermien’s unselfconscious efficiency graced
with the calm of a state secretary; June brisk, tone
always crisp, laughter infectious, smile as precious
as jewels hidden deep in the earth,
And the boss Madame La Pompadour is an exact
replica of ‘Madame Olympia’, staying home under
various pretexts so as to not sully her soul by noise
of the open-plan office, and me growing more like
Madame Medusa in ‘The Rescuers’
Driving is my favourite activity, trying to beat each
other robot, succeeding mostly; slow lane overtaking
when the fast crawls at a snail’s pace, enjoying the
exhilaration of evading other motorists, my liberties
sometimes earn aggressive gestures
I merely respond with a smile, blissfully threatening
pedestrians with amazing goodwill while continuing
this enticing technological dance, my mind delighting
in nirvana of a Zen-like trance…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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What Can Be Better (Rev)
As the day is simply beautiful I drove to
work with a song in my heart, a smiling
Pollyanna greeting me, agreed it better
to end being eaten by the last cannibal
tribe than languishing quietly at home
Heidi impishly explains imaginary pains,
nothing daunts her resolute spirit; Mme La
Pompadour sends a note she’s ferrying the
whole old-age home around, while Maria
Von Trapp’s engaged on the family estate
Drove a posse of my son’s friends home
to celebrate exuberance of life, promised
I’d stop running technically red lights (tho’
yellow on approach) – I know if I project a
submissive spirit at road signs
They shall assume safely I am indeed the
stopping kind and only unkindly traffic will
overwhelm me; leaving the happy team I
return here to create stream-lined text in
Afrikaans – what can be better than that?
Pollyanna = Hanlie
Heidi = June
Mme La Pompadour = Our supervisor
Maria Von Trapp = Hermien
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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2010/11/16 Hollow Reality
Early morning starting my nightmare document
my colleagues arrive, we sneer about life and the
types who are admired today - sports stars and
film stars and jerks of all kinds, we are laughing
enjoying the fun, June mentioned a woman
hating book clubs, being a member due
to peer pressure, people trying to fit in
Madame La Pompadour called, a sinus attack
due to paint fumes, she will stay at home where
the painting is done; last week she caught a bug
from her domestic and stayed home also - with the
virulent domestic - sneering helps us to laugh at the
wiles of the world without growing bitter or sour
June cannot understand women devouring Mills &
Boon and Ena Murray, never having succumbed
to fantasy and romance herself, June enjoys reality
just as it is, Hanlie manages without rainbows and
dreams, I am ice-cold inside without the warmth of
a vision, life appears pitch-black to me
Without the colours of new fantasies, while realistic
people rejoice in the coldness of life, I am freezing
to death in hollow reality, popular culture is clear to
me, people provide the lower strata of deeper
meaning to anchor empty sensory structures
posing as reality!
poem by Margaret Alice
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Work Chronicles Tues 22.11.2011
Mary Poppins is dying of boredom,
don’t know what Pollyanna is doing,
Maria von Trapp is bustling as always,
Heidi is diligently doing administration
Madame La Pompadour discreetly stays
in her bed and only moves to her couch
when vertigo and double vision abate
What is the use of finding the element
of fun in every job to be done when the
cake Mary Poppins enjoyed in the park
before riding the Merry-Go-Round in a
race, is shrinking her mind - here is a
mystery that would have thrilled Anastasia
Krupnik no end: Why did Mary Poppins
Consume two slices of cake and why did
she have only one sinus pill - since every
good thriller needs a murder or corpse,
let us add, though we’re sitting on the
sixth floor which used to be a hospital,
we have not seen or felt a disembodied
presence or strange energy
This Kingsley building does not offer any
respite from breathing desultory air while
wondering how to kill time to get to the
end of this day…
Mary Poppins – Me
Pollyanna – Hanlie
Maria Von Trapp – Hermien
Heidi (Johanna Spyri) – June
Madame La Pompadour – our very sick boss
Anastasia Krupnik – character in a book
series written by Lois Lowry
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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The Floundering Ship
A great day sailing on the
floundering ship at the office,
Hanlie an elfish, mischievous
captain, June quietly at the helm,
Hermien swinging in the rigging
while I plotted a course through
the rapids of cascading words
spilling over my desk
Human Resources destabilised
the ship by throwing the compass
away yet we ploughed on, June
can't be deflected from steering
straight for the bay of organised
perfection while updating lists -
though Microsoft warns our
software is outlawed
Being illegal means we are a
pirate ship; now I understand why
everything is going awry, breaking
down, why tumultuous chaos follows
in our wake - and still the ship stays
afloat and we all have fun as we try
plying our trade and playing our
marvellous instruments
However lacking in melody, the
rhythm full of joie de vivre makes
up for every shortcoming…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Shrinking (Revised)
Why does a conversational ploy that charms
one colleague fall flat on its face for others?
When I enact a little tragi-comedy for Hanlie
she embroiders the tales I tell, brings out the
hidden glitter in every situation and adds joy
by weaving her wan spell -
but when I share the same anecdote with
other colleagues my story loses its appeal,
I feel guilt and fatigue, and the story shrivels
up and dies; a more robust, feisty colleague
simply kills the story by pulling down corners
of her mouth -
thus, with Hanlie on leave, I already know
why life at work keeps shrinking
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Life is Lovely
I’m doing my best to realise your ideal – I mean
being true to being unhappy, but I am surrounded
by dysfunctional people - who enjoy being happy
Rima is laughter personified, Christine thinks life
is lovely, just for her to be amused and surprised
Hanlie insists on making the world beautiful with her
wonderful being, June is delighted with her house in
Gordon’s Bay, Martin is satisfied with the ideals he
sees being realised by two amazing kids following
his advice, my daughter shines in movie treats
My son dreaming big; at the office everyone breaks
out in smiles, I am really trying to get in touch with
my inner pain but it eludes me at present, though
I shall not give up in trying to reach the depths
of despair you prescribe, in deference to your
Amazing ability to find unhappiness behind every
happy façade, I am so glad you kindly informed
me how unhappy everyone has been and how
deeply mortified everyone should be once they
realize the pain in their hearts – yet right now
I am going with the flow of dysfunctional people
all being so happy they don’t even know how
terribly unhappy YOU know them to be, just
know I am working on it…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Juno Gave the Summer
A sun for hearts – tempered rhythm in her flares;
The naked tan – bikini line a cry for stares;
Gregarious green, beguiled by colours en rapport –
The park’s alive! So what’s to hanker after more?
Children scream while parents dream their fantasies,
Igniting under brilliance –
They think they share resilience to the
Ultraviolet hues;
To lie displayed au naturel
Is what they’d rather choose!
And Helios peers at lovers in their
Heady worlds: vibrant leas to
Roam in hand; calming seas –
Satin sand insensible as
Water runs her ripples cross the
Shore – so like the park, it really
Cries for very little more!
In the garden, roses clamber for attention –
Pouting blooms, wafting scent –
Our floral monarch June’s event!
And fingers green receive the praise
From toiling hard for coloured blaze.
Compelled, I walk the countenance of sunny June
As Mother Nature danced amok in her saloon
Of roaring life, that came of youth in early spring
And nurtured in maternal warmth beneath her wing.
Eyes bedewed, I mellow in a reverie
– Hope renewed –
As Juno saw to suckle me with
Quintessential summer.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
All rights reserved
See the link below for notes on this poem:
http: //succumbedtothinking.webs.com/featuredpoems.htm
June June June June June June June in summer
Summer for June summer for June summer for June in summer
June June June June June June June in summer
Summer for June summer for June summer for June in summer
June June June June June June June in summer
Summer for June summer for June summer for June in summer
June June June June June June June in summer
Summer for June summer for June summer for June in summer
Summer summer June summer June in summer summer
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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If Not For June
If not for June,
My memories of Winter in December...
With a wish to witness,
The freshness of Spring March would bring...
Would not still remain so vivid.
As if only yesterday visited.
If not for June.
If not for June,
My eyesight would not be teased...
By the freedom felt in Summer,
With hopes that linger of those things I could do,
Under clear skies showing bright Sun.
And seeing the fun shared by nearly everyone,
If not for June.
And if not for June I would not be able to reminisce,
From so many experiences I could pick.
June seems to be the month I can do this.
With a thankfulness I am still in the midst,
Of a year that appears to have just begun.
With so much left to offer before it is done.
And for me this happens only when June comes.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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One Day In June
One day in June
I slipped away
Caught by desire
Drawn to the flame
My virtues disappeared
Light on my feet
Whispers as sweet as honey
Callin' to me
One day in June
One day in June
I felt the hunger
I ate the fruit
One day in June
So don't cry for me
I had my chance
I took a risk
I asked the wind to dance
Don't try to save me
I'm already gone
Everything's over
But I'm burning on
One day in June
One day in June
I felt the hunger
I ate the fruit
One day in June
And I don't like how it feels
To tell all these little lies
Tryin' to be the one you can count on
But all it's a thin disguise
I kissed it all goodbye
One day in June
song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: My June Bug
A June bug crawls quick
She talks so sweet
She flies all around
From my head to my feet
She lays on my shoulder
She falls asleep slow
She'll lays on my lap
She makes my face glow
She walks up my arm
And begs for affection
I love to show her a little
Just to see her reaction
My june bug's so funny, she rules all my world
Oh June bug, oh june bug, my beautiful girl
poem by Ramon Escamilla
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This time in june
It's june
The farmer's spell
With cutlasses and hoes
We rushed off our feet;
Off to the feild we go
It's june
The farmer's delight
With so much rigor
We worked our fingers sore
And in the night
We barely had a sleep
It's june
The farmer's joy
The heavens had opened up
Their hearts upon the earth
For the farmers household
It's time to toil
So, in november;
When harvest finally comes
The farmer walked with pride
It's the pinnacle of his yeild
And he is proud to trade
So, in november;
When harvest finally comes
With basket and sacks
We headed for the feild
It's time to fill our barns;
Even our bellies,
Also; the farmers wallet
A heavy weight to lift
And for the farmers household
It's time for spoils
This time in june;
It was a different story
And my father says;
No pain, no gain!
poem by Bolami lawal
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Rainy Day In June
I need some sunshine on my face
To help me dry my eyes
I need a blue sky over here
So I can clear my mind
Maybe your soft breath on my back
To make me feel at ease
Anything more than what I've got
On this rainy day in June
It's a rainy day in June
The sky is grey and I am blue
Tryin' to make it without you
On this rainy day in June
Yesterday morning I woke up
On the wrong side of the bed
And on the right side laid a note
I knew what it said
Then the rain came, hasn't stopped
I don't know if it will
But I'll keep waiting with the hopeful heart
On this rainy day in June
It's a rainy day in June
The sky is grey and I am blue
Tryin' to make it without you
On this rainy day in June
The thunder rolls, the lightning flashes
Every thought began with you
I see your face in every clouded paths
On this rainy day in June
It's a rainy day in June
The sky is grey and I am blue
Tryin' to make it without you
On this rainy day in June
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Song for June's Smile
A song for June's smile,
When love is still so young;
Though summer has been awhile,
To become colored and strong.
Each heart is then retrieved,
To tones we imagined away;
When love is back received,
On a beautiful summer day.
A song for each my flame,
Blazing in your sweetness;
Though hearts stay not the same,
They return new and fresh.
All love is between two,
Consonant to win delight;
It is then all up to you,
Whether it burns on bright.
A song for June's smile,
With passions retuning along;
For each love is so fertile,
Can be the best summer song.
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Try and Smile
Try and smile
Happiness may return meanwhile
You have generated love
Mind at rest and happily drove
Let people respond
And nicely correspond
To your gesture
That may turn into bright future
I did my duty
As there lies beauty
Feeling so divine
Can make anybody to feel fine
No use to feel bad
As it may make you sad
Day may pass as dull
And you may look fool
Keep everybody in joyous mood
As that is only your food
To provide nourishment
Lovely to feel for right moment
If not today
You may find a way
To live honorably
Guide others too ably
Way lies ahead
Open to lead
Message must be read
Else life is dead
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Birds Live Peacefully
Birds, birds everywhere
flying through the sky without a care.
Reminding us how graceful life can be
as they fly from tree to tree.
Singing so very happily.
Singing songs of love and light
flying gracefully with delight.
Landing on their claws outstretched
landing in their straw filled nests.
Feeding their offspring worms from dirt
protecting them so they don't get hurt.
Pushing them to leave the nest
so they can fly like all the rest.
Flying high and flying low
they will be like their parents on the go.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on June 18,2012
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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