Sunday, January 21, 2018

Volunteer ,Means I Choose;Not You Command

volunteering is mandatory, they say
and I keep staring at the words
a little glazed over

volunteering is mandatory, o.k.
but why stop there
clouds also are mandatory

birds, when they sing
or when they're on the wing.
mandatory.

mandatory also
breathing.stars, the spring.
coming or going.

starving  is mandatory.
whatever it was
that you were going to do

anyway, is no more free
cuz overnight, this is our plight
it is mandatory today.

mary angela douglas 21 january 2018

Music In Words

the music is in the words I think
but you don't hear me
in everything that grows

but you won't clear me of my offense
thinking I am dense
because I think this way

even snow has music
silence on silence pealing
and turning away,

the one who must leave
on any given day
to find the music in the words

that you have thrown away
with no feeling.

mary angela douglas 21 january 2018

No More The Languid Ballets



no more the languid ballets of the waltz length days
in pale arrangements consistent with my dreams
but now the frenetic order makes its overrated entrance

conquering the scenes which must be shortened, if at all.
tolerated;and the technocratic insistence
on cutting things down to size, prevailing.

goodbye I sigh and sigh again that music to prolong
goodbye to lovely song and music elongated to the
soul's great charm displayed that now must certainly retire

entirely from the stage and o! the banished kingdoms
doomed to go with it into oblivion. good riddance,
they say

who deem not even now its shadows visible

in the corp de ballet to remain
where it was uniformly mysteriously surveyed
in the last stages of life oh fleeting.

goodbye to the swans to the immortal pose
and the last roses.
summer is upon us or it was

the crickets chirring under dim orchid skies
the sweet once cherished lands of just because.
disappearing.

all the pale legendary...


mary angela douglas 21 january 2018

Saturday, January 20, 2018

The Soul In Its Towing

sometimes the soul has no shell
but crawls out alone exposed
subject to wind and tide

no longer abiding.
sometimes the soul on the riptide
urchin or orphan must appear

gathering no dream

in odd numbered years
and welcomed in no climate.at all
then the soul is an ear, a squall

absorbing every rebuke.
in the pink and silver of its towing
and children go from it with

their sand dollars, their bits of sea pearl
ignoring the tear streaked shriveling -
heart struck,  the negligible core.-

mary angela douglas 20 january 2018

Friday, January 19, 2018

The Greatest Living Crime

the greatest living crime
who wasn't that obscure
went about measuring

everyone for the same suit
soul suit in all sizes
tailored to compromise

tailored to blend in
since standing out
on any contrasting surface

was the only sin
so we scurry
try not to worry

hide near the kitchen cabinets
and listen, we listen
praying not to glisten

and converse
with those who think
she needs a nurse

she is unwell
but time will tell
this side of hell

and Heaven will judge

the living crime
in every clime
who makes the soul suit

fit
and hands out the prizes
to those who wear it

mary angela douglas 20 january 2018

mary angela douglas 20 january 2018


This Is The Train Doubling Back



this is the train doubling back
this is the mistake of the dream engineer
that will never be made clear
until silver trumpets sound
this is the merry go round
the clashing of gears
that went on for years
the sleights in the cafeteria
arranged seating at the alumnae teas
this is you admiring the centerpiece
which really is lovely with mimosa pink carnations
a handful of stars
you lean over to compliment them
but everyone leaves
everyone leaves says the engineer
it's only you at the station now
always running off the platform
into a heart shaped town
at the evening exit with the shops closed down
where the moon streams
and you think so cloudily as
one does in dreams
I have to go back again
I have to go back again
the engineer can't say when
mary angela douglas 20 january 2018

In The Dream There Are Neither Keys Nor Locks

closing the door on what is left
you go up the hall
it's only in that house

that you remember anyway
the one whose shadows you loved
in the dream there are neither keys

nor locks
but you take stock of early moonlight
roses, piano music filling the rooms

as though it were a huge flower
the flower is music and an
endless perfume

it lingers in all the rooms at once
with fairytales strewn
likea heartbreak resolved

and I have thought about so long

the resolution of all those chords
the old rains when we were new
the kitchen attitudes

the lullaby inside the lullaby
the starlight, star wheels
that will not let me go.