Tuesday, May 30, 2017

A Long Long Time Ago

here comes the perfect poem
twisting itself into multicoloured balloon
animals

for the toddler about to cry
puffing itself into clouds
pink ones for the babies

out in their strollers and sunbonnets
and now its shade and a leafy avenue
wouldn't want them to get overheated

here's the poem turning itself into a typewriter
for the writer thats run out of words
on deadline

fresh copy get your fresh copy here
into coffee with cream for the 
artist plein air in his spindly chair

waiting for the 

rain to stop and now it's an umbrella
parrot green with a thin stripe of gold
or an overcoat for you in the cold

when you just went out in your sweater
thinking you'd only be a minute
well a perfect poem's got everything in it

that you might ever need
oh it's the poem for any kind of weather

or a tasty treat when you've nothing to eat
in the house that's sweet or 

here's the perfect poem turning into the
perfect dress in lemon yellow with soft blue accents
thank you thank you said Cinderella

a long long time ago

mary angela douglas 30 may 2017



Monday, May 29, 2017

No Magic Word

reading old books at home
oh let the pages turn the wind
the clocks wind down again

have there ever been angels
like this before ask the clouds
almost out loud

you are reading to yourself
outside the world becomes snow
becomes the trees that graze the skies

and all the reasons why disappear
through the bubble wand haze
bubbling up from your primer school days

and the primrose laden

and the fairy tales regained
in primary colors
the fingerpainting hours reclaimed

on glossy paper shiny to the touch.
is it so much to ask to have
the tinsel down from the Christmas attic

and it not even Christmas
or the magic carpet rolled up in the corner
suddenly spring open

though you have said
no magic word.
and have neglected your dusting all day.

mary angela douglas 29 may 2017

Saturday, May 27, 2017

What The Meadow Dreamed

to be flower filled
or whipperwilled
or bright with snows

then crowned with prairie rose
and then to laugh forget me not blue
with children running through

a fugitive princess to
unlock the clouds
and the Great Winds

so that blossom and thistle
may bow down
suddenly

to the Flower Maker.

mary angela douglas 27 may 2017

To The Royal Reader Of The Days Gone By

to the royal readers of the days gone by
it is given to know: the life of clouds pure green
insistencies of leaves, the rose

in the ruffled shade beyond the mays,
the grand felicitous opening and closing of spring
shading into the numberless summers.

not a golden wand do I bring you
or christen you near the fantastical waters
o sons and daughters in the borderlands

between the worlds.
stand in the drenching dreams from
the cloudburst of His heart your

hearts entwined and this is light
this is to stand against the
nights of bitterness

barterless in an interior splendor
beyond the courts of Time
and free.

mary angela douglas 27 may 2017

Friday, May 26, 2017

In The Summers' Day By Day

azure displaces azure in the summers' day by day
dream brimmed, rose trimmed remember when
lime leafed stretching farther away

than a heart could reach now

and formal, as though we were surrounded
by borders of the art noveau
and wreathed in flowers, county fair

or honey golden home and drop by drop or
fourth of july flared soda fountain shared
and the honeycomb is wrought

was wrought as if jeweled by junes
beyond compare so cream and clover rich.
what will it take to find you lime leafed

in the shade again of vanished backyard trees
and strawberry festival free in the let's pretend
as we were then

waiting for the storybook recitals
and the grandfathers naming the constellations
and the scarlet maples so far off

in the sheep clouded distances
and the neighborhood skies:

pastels shading into
the dusk of carports,
sheet music learned and relearned

the gardenia furling songs.

mary angela douglas 28 may 2017

Then Vanishing Away

On the Legend of the Lady of Shalott

her face in a dream floats on the waters
or like nebulae among deep stars
in a field of vision

yet unmarred by tears

where are you we must ask again
of all our years
though clouds have no answer

nor does the dusk,
dressed in the blue of the departed hours.

is it enough that once you were weaving

all that the heart could sense
from distances, from renunciations
made gladly

until you broke in several pieces

the mirror of the departing hour
becoming yourself while saying goodbye
like the petals of all flowers

blown by winds

how did we feel this
was never really ours
though we cried to see

so much beauty
scattered dewlike on the lawns
in the vigils of dawns unnumbered

or in the antique books
then, vanishing away;
the pages melting like snows

mary angela douglas 26 may 2017

Monday, May 22, 2017

I Wanted To Dream Of The Life Of Clouds

I wanted to dream of the life of clouds
the scurrying of leaves in small vortexes
illuminations of

the rose red rainbows singular in the world
to flow near stars and to become that silver
or the quince green

indistinguishable from moonlight
in the clouds the crystals freeze
into half and quarter rainbows

composing their own music
and the birds flow too
and dream so that then

I am dreaming of clouds and within that
the clouds dream of birds
the birds dream of

who knows perhaps the snows
the snows dream of descending
into the vast gardens

of the first earth oh I wanted to dream
I wanted to dream of the history of clouds
to be done with the history of earth

to turn into the sweeping rains
and over vast seas
to dissolve

to be mist on the faces of little children
and to disappear
into opalescent hemispheres

so far from here

to become the breath of angels
and to know
life is fleeting as all poets know

but the clouds do not know
in their motion what is going
what is going away

who is going away
they are themselves
incapable of tears

of wrenching themselves from the years accumulated
I want to sleep in the orchards where the pink clouds
descend

becoming the flowering of the trees
and to float petal like to earth
and then to swirl upwards suddenly

mary angela douglas 22 may 2017