Monday, February 27, 2017

In This Issue

in this issue we have the directions to the castle
in this issue the pirate map on Mars
the clues that you were apt to forget

when you were wishing on a star

and you can connect the dots or not
while waiting in the same old spot
for something wondrous to appear

or carry it with you till New Years

the Christmas glossy magazine
with tips to make the chiming scene,
the charming gift, the cake, delight,

and plans to renovate the night

so that the stars more silverly shine
to point out where the simple dine
when you are running out of dimes

in this issue, or the next one. down the line.

mary angela douglas 27 february 2017

To All The Children Who Wanted To Be King Or Queen

to all the children who wanted to be king or queen

of the classroom, dayroom dramas

of their dreams in apple green sour or mauve or anything


to thee I bring these cowslip broidered poems

where you are free to be crowned with

gummy stars, dimestore gems and the


last of the aluminum foil from the

kitchen cabinet or you are home sick

and the thought of candle wick costumes


conjured at halloween occurs

and so you practice being princess, earl,

all the day ringing the small bell


at bedside anyway for more soup please

and gingerale and tell me please just

one more fairy tale or let me breathe


once upon instead the pine scented winds

at lane's end or feel brocaded longings

stir for the outdoors autumn scented


tromping back again to

school and learning the golden rule

and knowing we're king and queen


of everything already when we just

so apple checked off the roll call list

sing out "present", presentful of whims.


mary angela douglas 27 february 2017

I Dream Of Staircases

I dream of staircases
I cannot descend
because the stairway runs out

into uncarpeted Space
or only goes a little way down.
I dream of train stations

where the train has taken Forever away
or only just left
or of buses

and I don't have correct change
or I am in that building again
the one I never saw in real life

in an imaginary town
and it is dusk with no known address
and I can't leave

because the staircases recede
though others are on the ground
and the jump is too far down

it could kill me

and it is sleeting
and I cannot slide
and when I ask for a ride

they are all going
the other way

mary angela douglas 27 february 2017

Never Before This World Refreshing Dawn

never before this world refreshing dawn
sky of the dreaming pearl arose
among the roses in the garden

standing still, those watercoloured children
learn their initials by the disappearing moon
with birdsong in tune and tuning

they turn and turn in the flounced and especial dance
unlearned and bright as meadows turning gold
by the afternoon

will they have learned their letters,
mended their manners, brought their angels to heel
with their laughter

made friends with the tall, spiced grasses,
reciting the two times two;

will they vanish too?


mary angela douglas 27 february 2017

Saturday, February 25, 2017

Did They Butterfly Pin The Stars

did they butterfly pin the stars to their night skies
the fashionable artists
oh we hope this isn't so but how will we know

if someone saw the paintings move in their appointed frames.
just once I did looking at Monet across the room
mother of pearl cathedral against the white gloss walls

gathering lustre still.
this is art the way you feel it to be
as if you were gazing through a startling window

or into an Easter Egg panorama
and it is sugar sweet to you
the night you thought had fled

remains
if not, the green things whispered
supremely on the flower filled winds

by some solitary in an early april.

mary angela douglas 26 february 2017

Thursday, February 23, 2017

To Mary Queen of Scots as a Child

they dressed you in rose colours perhaps
as a child and this made it easier it may be
to endure what came later

rose colours at the beginning of things
as if you were a flower yourself
or felt like one at occasional recitals

when you played the baby nocturne
excerpts from the summer nights
so endlessly starry how could you think

anything could go wrong
on earth it is this way we are preserved
by certain details

the cirrus brushstrokes in a summer sky
the flavor of tangerines.
the palest palest greens.

this is outside of history
outside of the turgid news
and the newsreels where the exiled disappear

the smoke of old trains running off the reels
at school and the classroom darkened
for the occasion.

you will remember aeons later
they dressed you in colors of the rose.
and compose yourself for the great tragedies

coiled inevitably around the thrones.

mary angela douglas 23 february 2017

Sunday, February 19, 2017

The Storybook Of The Day Before

the storybook of the day before
came in strange wrcappings
through a slit in the door

the storybook of the day before.
if I told you the endings, would you believe it,
could you believe it

conceive of a green that hasn't yet blossomed,
a rose coloured ring,
the wave on the shore and a something more

in the air, is it Christmas? the windfall

of sunning gold pears disturbed by a wind
that isn't there
in the game of let's pretend.

but it's you
that's biting into them my friend
chilled as the moon and with your spoon

you're digging into... but I won't go farther
than I'm allowed while wearing pastels
in an ice cream crowd

into the wood where the birds speak aloud

and the villagers merely sing
and the fairies bring you everything
mixed into a cordial the colour of cherries

that afterwards you may be always merry
and these are the hints going out the door
I'm sorry if you were hoping for more

from the storybook
of the day before...

mary angela douglas 19 february 2017