Sunday, September 25, 2016

At Home The Day Of The Swap Meet

they're exchanging pet theories about the universe
down at the chequered swap meet near the college
and I'd rather count raindrops and then lose count

of the conversations I've had where nothing
really happens again except you get the distinct
and sinking feeling that once more you've been

coopted as a prop in somebody else's play.
whether you speak of pimento cheese,
of the cure for the disease or

the last sighs of Chopin or
how glad you are today, there are always
those eager to unsay your assay

so what is there left to say
I wonder where I wonder

with tne blinds half open
to reveal the skies
where the scenery serenely

changes its disguise with no comments,
with the implicit songs of birds,
and not one thing skittering toward

the spotlight.

mary angela douglas 25 september 2016

Saturday, September 24, 2016

Doll Poems

doll poems made of finery,
tiny stitches,lined my sleep;
rippled the vintage wallpaper

or slipped in the creek-
or bubbled in the lemonades
we made. doll poems:

snip of cherry silk,
basted with lime thread;
blue taffeta curtained;

softly sung to bed.
I will keep them in the attics beyond
trap door entrances

pulled with a pearly chain
for days and days when it rains.
and rainbow riven, they'll

come back to you.
you, consistently in love
with the Kingdom of small

where we scattered pillow feathers
to simulate Christmas snow.
and walk about pink halls

in our miniature shawls;
mysterious, with our painted teacups
tamed, on tawny kitchen shelves-

we'll whisper what we know...
and own the wishing wells.

mary angela douglas 24 september 2016

Friday, September 23, 2016

Near The Shade Trees Outside The Gates

where have you been they may ask you,
their meaning no cherry pastry;
and pretend to want to hear the answer

as if they cared

to what impelled you to walk out
under the night skies
and flecked with an opal light.

and the stars as if they knew who you were.
that's the part that really bothers them.

a sudden breeze comes up
and you feel, freedom, someone's freedom
is coded there.

but they are unaware
and continue with
the interrogations

they were born for;

while you compare
because you got that far in school
the purpling of indistinct shadows

on a wall.

mary angela douglas 23 september 2016

Cherry Kerchief

[for Isabel De Clare]

this won't be remembered, perhaps you said
inscribing it in your book of snow
or tying it up in your cherry kerchief

where the peach winds blow
and the castle is near at hand.
it's near at hand and burns like

crystal in a night blind land
or etched on sea foam.
but how would you know-

you, with so far to go.
you, with your book of snow.

mary angela douglas 23 september 2016

Thursday, September 22, 2016

Balloons

we came upon the balloons of Heaven.
this was in a dream and
after climbing a green hill

in search of picnic grounds
as it happens sometimes in daily life
that you find an unexpected thing

while looking for another.
we saw them drifting endlessly,
the lost ones from Oz

in unchronicled years;

the pink and gold 
from secret birthday wishes appearing
and the passengers also

in rose as if posing for
the Impressionists on a summer's day and
peering through pearl opera glasses.

and then there were herds of the azure
simply fantastic
escaped from circuses and fairs;

from the soft curved hands of tear streaked children

one instant earlier unaware 
that here on earth
beauty slips so easily from us.

but here they came back to us
newly in love with clouds
and every bit as high as we used to swing;

consorting with the
rainbow flavored zephyrs
and a something aeolian

that came ringing from the leaves
of trees

the tall and guardian ones
we loved so long ago
when we were home...

mary angela douglas 22 september 2016

Red and Gold

sometimes your story shone red gold
new penny wonderful or dreamed
in the drift of leaves for you for you alone

they're falling down and you're the
princess of red and gold town you tell yourself
before you're old and in a blue wind

turn the trees into friends.
but they were friendly before
and watched for you

every day
on your way through the red and gold
the red and gold

the red and gold

mary angela douglas 22 september 2016

Saturday, September 17, 2016

The Colours of Hydrangea

happy to wear the colours of hydrangea
fifteen petticoats and a mysterious glow
we came up in the summer times

and longed for snow
and read the story of the snow maiden secretly
disguised.

in the space age they said we favor science
over the fairy tales but I asked now
when the leaves became crimson unexpectedly

under my breath so as not to disturb

the focus of the class
what fairy tale is greater than Space
oh please, think fast

if not the every day's "at lasts"?

mary angela douglas 17 september 2016