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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Related quotes
Magic On The Quiet
Charmed by the wonderful wit of Terry Pratchett
in Carpe Jugulum, sharing Agnes Nitt’s admiration
for the Right Reverend Mightily Oats’ kindness in
helping Granny Weatherwax under the ruse that
she was helping him and Granny’s grudging res-
pect for a priest of Om no longer burning witches,
not burning in holy fire himself meaning he is truly
an honest man and bringer of light to dark places
The ramifications of the situations which reveal the
true nature of the protagonists who face them, form
a string of magical events that glisten and shine in
my imagination just as they do in Indra’s heaven
where every pearl reflects all the other pearls
The logical consistent action of Pratchett’s main
characters forming a musical theme that plays
through all his books, carefully camouflaged from
the regard of the casual passer-by who does not
pick up the shining strands to follow them to their
harmonious conclusions
Led astray by the science of materialism used to
lull unobservant connoisseurs into believing that
empiricism forms the basis of Pratchett’s edifice –
And I shall leave it at that, delighting in magic
on the quiet…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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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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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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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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Granny dreamt what Granny liked
she thought she was in some kind of Paris
some kind of Venice or a Granade
but OMG this poor Granny
was walking in a dying beauty shade
still Granny dreamt what Granny liked
and there she wore the clothes so smarty
a lot of make up and accessoir
and there she went to a botox party
she took a cab it was too far
'coz Granny dreamt what Granny liked
this absent minded little resident
with shoes expensive but mind in rags
granny voted all smiling presidents
i guess for too many colourful flags
'coz Granny dreamt what Granny liked
she had fruits to chew and meat to mince
a lover's smile and artficial teeth
preserved for her fairy tale prince
who'll take her to see a coral reef
'coz Granny dreamt what Granny liked
look at the beauty in latest outfit
listen to Granny sing hit of hits
psychology biology re-mix released
if you wanna know what it's all about
get ready for an elderly feast
and follow the Granny leave all doubt
in a dream extreme or so it seems
'coz Granny dreams what Granny likes
(no charge no blame if you do the same
I only wonder why you'd been told
it's not ok to be old...
let Granny dream what Granny likes)
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Boomin' Granny
Yea..
Ah yea...
Agh yea this one's dedicated to all
the ladies in the front , the back
All the older ladies out there
lookin' nice, you know who you are
whoo...
I need you, boomin' granny
I said I want you, boomin' granny
Boomin' granny, boomin' granny
Boomin' granny, good and plenty
Well it might sound odd, it might sound corny
But here's some sex rhymes for those that are horny
For your boomin' granny with the boomin' system
Said I love ya won't leave ya so you got to listen
See I'm talkin' about the way that I'm feeling
You're so lovely lengthy and so appealing
A sassy sophisticated sexy lady
Well I'm 26 and you're 80
The clock is ticking so you better not front
We can go downtown and we could smoke some blunt
Well you're a lovely girlgolden girl, just like Bea Arthur
Just turn down the lights so we can go farther
Boomin' granny, boomin' granny
Boomin' granny, good and plenty
Because I saw ya at the check out line
You dropped your coupons and you were looking fine
Sophisticated, and so mature
I couldn't really care if you're 50 or 74
Because I want ya, and I need ya
Hey boomin' granny you could be my teacher
And I could be your pet, bet
Listen old lady I'm gonna make ya sweat!
I know I'm younger, and your much older
You look so nice on my Chevy Nova
I'm gonna take her to the low rider show, and flaunt ya
I gotta tell ya lady I said I want ya, boomin' granny
Because I need you boomin' granny
Boomin' granny, boomin' fanny
Boomin' granny, good and plenty
song performed by by Beastie Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Magical Music Show(Lyrics) :
Welcome to magic, and the magical music show.
You'll get a little magic, from the magical music show.
When you see, you've got it down.
Take a little look around.
Send your eyes up on the stage.
There could be no better day; for magic.
And the magical music show.
We'll send a little magic.
From the magical music show.
When you think you understand.
Take a look, up at our band.
Take another look around.
There could be no better sound, then magic.
And the magical music show.
You'll get a little magic.
From the magical music show.
So welcome to magic.
And the magical music show..
You'll get a little magic.
From the magical music show.
So welcome to magic.
And the magical music show.
And the magical music show-wooh-wooh..
Magic Song-Poem by Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1985,2009..
All rights reserved..
poem by Kim Robin Edwards
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Shape-Change
A conspiracy of mites, dust and allergy makes life
a misery – I am either very happy outside wearing
magical sandals or sitting in the depths of despair
in an air-conditioned office where I shape-change
into Quasimodo, hunchback, gnarled fingers, warts –
oh wait, that’s witches, I also become the Gingerbread
Witch of Hansel and Gretel, it’s why I identify with Alice
in Wonderland, eating anything marked ‘eat me’
breathing pollen, house-mites and dust-laden air
changes me from hour to hour, I can only be a
dancing fairy outside – any building changes me
into a variety of horror story characters - though
I don’t mind being a vampire or witch as long as
I can fly, but changing into Quasimodo
makes me want to cry …
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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The Rainbow Of Life
What happens after a rain?
When the sun comes out
A rainbow is formed
What's at the end of it?
That's the age old question is it not?
But really what's at the end?
You might say gold or you might not
What's at the end of it?
Is there two worlds
Is there gold
What is there?
I think there are two worlds
One world is more of a magical one
That everyone wants to go to
But the other one is dark and not so magical
And almost no one wants to go to
For we live in the middle
Our world is good and evil
Magical but dark
Filled with death but new life
If we are good people here then we go to heaven
The magical world
Heaven is like riding trough beautiful meadows
On a gorgeous horse
But if we are bad people we go to hell
The dark side and not so magical world
Hell is as if you were to bath in a sea of blood
With all tears of misery surrounding you
Witch one are you going to
Have you been a good person?
Done all the right things
In your life time
Or have betrayed the angle on your shoulder
I'm going to heaven not because I've
Done all the right things in my life
Because I'm a good person
Maybe not out side but inside
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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The Magic Pratchett Weaves
Driven my mind into a ravine, sought escape by
transforming mental state from despondent to
a receiver of the magic Pratchett weaves by
mixing enchanting quantum into everything
‘All things that might have been, have to be, in
thousands of universes twisting together like
plaited ropes’, somewhere among this, our
minds exist as a shadow play of light
I felt myself changing into a different being while
reading, looking forward to living, breathing and
thinking, conversing about sad news items like
the tentacular financial crisis – because of a
Discworld where Mustrum Ridcully, Master Mage
and Esme Weatherwax, Witch, remember their
feet hardly touched the ground doing trans-
migration spells in their youth
A beautiful time which will forever exist in another
universe, one of many – where my spirit is also
spinning in tandem with all these inspiring
ideas…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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You Want To Be A Real Big Witch
You want to really be a witch?
Well...
I knew some pretty wicked witches,
Who...
Made me pitch to them,
Many a fit.
And I split.
You want to be a real big witch,
Well...
I knew some pretty wicked witches,
Who...
Made me pitch to them,
Many a fit.
And I split.
You want to be the biggest at the ball of all witches,
Don't you?
You do.
Don't you.
You do.
Don't you.
You do.
And you're proving it too!
You do.
You want to be the biggest at the ball of all witches...
Don't you?
You do.
Don't you?
You want to be a real big witch,
Don't you?
You want to be the biggest at the ball of all witches.
You want to be a real big witch,
Don't you?
You want to be the biggest at the ball of all witches.
You want to be a real big witch,
Don't you?
You want to be a real big witch,
Don't you?
You want to be a real big witch,
Don't you?
You want to be a real big witch.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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June In January
When in January it’s June,
in March it will be August, hot
and clammy while I swoon
within your arms, if I am not
mistaken about climate change
that is inevitable when
the summer months within my range
make me perspire once again,
and long for January that’s cold,
when I feel comfortable within
your arms, not feeble, frazzled, old,
and ready to embark on sin,
without the need for air condit-
ioning that I associate with June.
That’s why in wintertime I wish
that January will not leave soon,
but when it does it should be May,
my favorite month when birds do sing,
accompanying my love each day
with joy while you make my heart spring.
Inspired by “It’s June in January, ” a song associated with Bing Crosby, written by Ralph Rainger and Leon Robin:
A clouded moon creeps across the clouded sky
Winds of January sigh and moan
And yet it's June.
I can see a sky of blue
Dear the miracle is due to you.
Just you.
It's June in January
Because I'm in love
It always is spring in my heart
with you in my arms.
The snow is just white blossoms
that fall from above.
And here is the reason, my dear,
Your magical charms.
The night is cold
The trees are bare
But I can feel the scent of roses in the air.
It's June in January
Because I'm in love.
But only because I'm in love with you.
Oh the night is cold!
Won't it be to bear?
But I can feel the scent of roses in the air.
It's June in January
Because I'm in love
`1/23/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
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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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Granny
1 Granny's come to our house,
2 And ho! my lawzy-daisy!
3 All the childern round the place
4 Is ist a-runnin' crazy!
5 Fetched a cake fer little Jake,
6 And fetched a pie fer Nanny,
7 And fetched a pear fer all the pack
8 That runs to kiss their Granny!
9 Lucy Ellen's in her lap,
10 And Wade and Silas Walker
11 Both's a-ridin' on her foot,
12 And 'Pollos on the rocker;
13 And Marthy's twins, from Aunt Marinn's,
14 And little Orphant Annie,
15 All's a-eatin' gingerbread
16 And giggle-un at Granny!
17 Tells us all the fairy tales
18 Ever thought er wundered --
19 And 'bundance o' other stories --
20 Bet she knows a hunderd! --
21 Bob's the one fer "Whittington,"
22 And "Golden Locks" fer Fanny!
23 Hear 'em laugh and clap their hands,
24 Listenin' at Granny!
25 "Jack the Giant-Killer" 's good;
26 And "Bean-Stalk" 's another! --
27 So's the one of "Cinderell'"
28 And her old godmother; --
29 That-un's best of all the rest --
30 Bestest one of any, --
31 Where the mices scampers home
32 Like we runs to Granny!
33 Granny's come to our house,
34 Ho! my lawzy-daisy!
35 All the childern round the place
36 Is ist a-runnin' crazy!
37 Fetched a cake fer little Jake,
38 And fetched a pie fer Nanny,
39 And fetched a pear fer all the pack
40 That runs to kiss their Granny!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Magical Days With You
All the magical ways
With the magic of days
My soul is soaring for you
All the magical feeling
With magic that’s healing
Growing and cherishing too
All the magical rhyme
With the magic of time
Whispering love in true
So love as we live
Our souls share to give
Our hearts beat as one, from two
poem by Paul Moosberg
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Wicked Witch
See the wicked witch ride her broomstick,
As she rides with the moon,
Her pointy hat her distinguished feature,
For it is a full moon tonight,
For magic will reign until the morning light,
For many spells are being cast,
And who will win the magic stakes,
No one knows,
For many a cauldron is being stirred,
The supernatural in nature being brought alive,
And love spells bring love into the wide open,
And treasure good fortune and luck,
For there are many facets in nature,
And spells can be cast, so you'll never be stuck,
Many good luck charms and wishing dust reawaken the spirit,
And throwing salt over your shoulder,
Not walking under ladders,
Knocking on wood,
And keeping a black cat for good luck,
Will keep things swinging your way,
And the phases of the moon will keep the spirits at rest,
At least until the break of day,
For traditions say witches practice their craft through black magic,
But this is not true,
For the way of the witches will never be tragic,
For love spells are also their forte,
And a beautiful prince or princess will greet you,
For you are magic itself,
You have those magical eyes,
That will reveal a pleasant surprise,
The night opening up your unbelieving eyes,
To all of nature and its magic powers,
That keep balance and proprtion in all things,
And give life to those beautiful and colourful spring flowers,
That only heaven itself, with all its magic,
Could create and nurture with the changing seasons.
poem by Paula Glynn
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One of the aspects of form that I have been very interested in is stasis - the concept of form which is not so directional in time, not so much climactic form, but rather form which allows time, to stand still.
quote by La Monte Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The War
There is a sound of thunder afar,
Storm in the south that darkens the day,
Storm of battle and thunder of war,
Well, if it do not roll our way.
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
Be not deaf to the sound that warns!
Be not gull'd by a despot's plea!
Are figs of thistles or grapes of thorns?
How should a despot set men free?
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
Let your Reforms for a moment go,
Look to your butts and make good aims.
Better a rotten borough or so,
Than a rotten fleet or a city of flames!
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
Form, be ready to do or die!
Form in freedom's name and the Queen's!
True, that we have a faithful ally,
But only the devil knows what he means!
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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