I Wandered Every Fairytale Way

I wandered every fairytale way

even when every path was strewn

with thorns, not roses-

and the sun shone down on lawful ridicule

excused by market forces

facing numerous evictions

beauty in mind was never

wounded

and in the ivory moment

I looked for Your sustaining hand;

it was not in vain.

they say it is too hard to

find the tenuous way back

but it is harder not to try

mary angela douglas 3 june 2008

I'm The One With The Ruby Slippers

I'm The One With The Ruby Slippers

I'm the one with the ruby slippers

I whispered to myself

in a scene of great

distress

in a dream it all came back to me:

the captive feeling in the unfeeling

castle

and the witch

green as new grass

sprung up again

I'm the one with the ruby slippers;

I'm not the one that melts

I muttered to myself again

under the witch's witching stare:

fire cannot quench

nor water burn

the singular heart anointed

in this.

or any other nightmare

mary angela douglas 16 may 2008

I Stood At An Ivory Distance

I stood at an ivory distance

from per diem valentines

from ruby-hearted accolades

or lace-strewn fitting rooms

I don't know why

my non-message in a bottle

sank beneath the waves that day

as if torpedoed

and cairns against

a winter-inlaid sky

seemed to me more cherishing than

the violet-ridden spring

mary angela douglas 8 february 2008

When The Wistful Fairytale Imploded

when the wistful fairytale imploded

we were covered in

fleeting gold;

gold of a vanishing light -

of far stars' sic transit

gold of the shimmering

air of the legendary heart:

surprised

by sudden kingdoms-

mary angela douglas 8 february 2008

We Were Sailing Broken Ships

we were sailing broken ships

under a sky of glass

you could have been undone

by even the slightest meteor

yet, dear mariner, you weren't

and I kept your opalescence

like the secret of a star

whenever I was forced to move

over marred seas.

under a cuticle moon

of scant gold.

standing stock-still

by orphaned sails

I tried so hard to remember

former marvels

twirling in vain the locker's rusted combination

oblivious to the wild

and iris wave

poured out unmistakably

in the long dream before

embarking

mary angela douglas 8 february 2008

A Dream Country Where You Go Around

a dream country where you go around

asking too many questions of creatures who

resemble no one from your former life

could only end unfairly

in a dream-execution

but you saw through them

they're a pack of cards

even the Queen

you said, or meant to say

the words muffled into the soft

river grass

so brave in your blue frock

because you already knew

the story must end uniquely

in your world

especially when it begins like

every other

once-upon-a-time...

mary angela douglas february 2008

Why On Such A Golden Day

why on such a golden day

drowsing past

river-banked flowers

did you dream like that

a dream that was

anything but gold

whose heart would lead you

nowhere

where your every sparkling

entrance on each dissolving stage

would be so dully reviewed.

you couldn't even begin to ask directions

in a town where

even roses at their summit of

rose perfection

could be judged unfit

unless controlled-

mary angela douglas february 2008

In the Looking Glass, It Began To Snow

in the looking glass, it began to snow

the snow covered up

your eyes your

mouth; your

hands, with their own

snow-like gestures;

you wept-

but not into

the frozen-mirror pond

we struggled through:

emerging into

deeper snows,

but with the same furniture-

and this was the

beginning of sorrows

mary angela douglas february 2008

Next Time Pinch Yourself

next time, pinch yourself

don't go to sleep

when your sister tells

a boring story

that's my advice

too late

don't drink the soup,

the tea, don't eat the tarts

they left them out too long, anyway

don't go anywhere

near the Queen

don't run errands for

the rabbit whether he's

wearing gloves or not

don't wind his watch

don't tell them what

you learned in school

and if you catch them painting roses

get the next train out

even if it's the circus express

mary angela douglas february 2008

OOPS! I FELL DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE

OOPS! I FELL DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE

oops! I fell down the rabbit hole

in my poem

Hello Alice, lovely dress the

perfect shade of blue I

was sent to warn you

I wish I could have

warned myself

now we're plummeting

past the Rabbit's

bookshelves

stop! I want to

read the titles so

I can find them

when I wake up...

there's going to be

a tea party - you'll

be sitting at the

table in your party dress

but you won't feel invited

despite the pink cake

in the middle of the table;

you won't get a slice

no matter how nicely you pour tea;

you ask too many questions

and you won't have a moment

to yourself. even if you cry,

other people will utilize

your tears on the spot this is

that kind of dream: you

can't wake up when you want to,

dear.

but the door to the garden,

once you get through-

just stay: on the still point of

a turning world that makes no sense;

like a jewel-box ballerina when

the music ends

remaining you by barely breathing

so that at the last

you'll be

unperceived and bounce yourself out of

their false rose frieze

mary angela douglas february 2008

Living The Book Of Rose By Heart

living the book of rose by heart

I scattered my petals before you

in the wake of all that befell you

wishing like the lilac fairy to

dispel

all darkness

before and after

quietly without

overturning the

dreams at your feet

mary angela douglas 10 november 2007

This Is Not The Dew Impearled

this is not the dew impearled

this is my tear

this is my voiceless

damask plea

rooted under the darkening sky

when the wind blows through

while you are sleeping

when the wind blows through

and I can't sustain this

roseness

will you remember

my rose ghost

poem recited while

ou are gliding off

to sleep;

it was my tear and not

the dew impearled

mary angela douglas 20 october 2007

Wildly Beautiful Improbable Message

wildly beautiful improbable message:

I have hidden you under the

underside of my heart

in case of real emergencies

where no one will question

your sanity in battle

or you be ever wounded,

shot-down in mid conversation

by those with nothing better to do

long years I have cherished you

under a sky of iris

or rocked you to sleep

when the moon turned to blood.

the waves of your shining will

not be turned back at any border

nor your high ardent meteors

cross-examined

in courts of sheer aridity

and we will survive:

staring straight into

your radiance,

never going blind

mary angela douglas 10 october 2007

Not One More Emerald River

not one more emerald river

will you cross

it's time to rest.

gather these

sad poppies to your heart

blighted by sudden snowfall

no remedies remain

draw the shade

over the shade

don't dwell on green

rainbows anymore, endlessly picture-perfect

or friends that vanish

like a dream-

like a lost cause

goodbye goodbye sweet emerald metier

mary angela douglas 20 october 2007/rev. 6 february 2010

I Can't Reach The Cellar Door

[to my grandmother for the times we all watched the Wizard of Oz.]

I can't reach the cellar door

the storm's coming in so fast

the trees I played under

yesterday

can't last

and the side-yard chickens fly up to

the stars, still squawking

that I forgot to feed them

there is no shade.

but it can't be in vain

you stood in the shattered doorway

calling my childhood name

through a vortex of dust and

fleur-de-lis stars too suddenly turned out-

even when I couldn't hear you anymore.

mary angela douglas 20 october 2007/rev. 6 february 2010

Someone Brought A Red Rose

someone brought a red rose

into the green palace

it must have been an

artist (not a local)

trying to be free-

it must have been his

last

still life

mary angela douglas 20 october 2007

When You Tire

when you tire

of picking only green flowers

by a sea-green sea

an ad will appear

in the Green Gazette:

balloonist position:

will train, entitled

to one free ride

do not go

even if times get

hard

and you have to eat flowers

morning night and noon with green sauce #3

and you can't change the one

emerald station on your old tv

listen.

even on your birthday, cake days are over

with no balloon to

go home in

mary angela douglas 20 october 2007

Flicking The Emerald Dust

flicking the emerald dust

off the curious piano,

she sat down to play

only, of course,

green songs-

green music welled up

in her heart

but her heart was a

diamond's

diamond

mary angela douglas 20 october 2007

When You Have Gone

when you have gone

down all the yellow roads

looking for your lost

emeralds

rest on a green wave:

do not be dismayed

glide away

away

and in your sleep a

green cloud will appear (it may be)

wrapped around a

green castle bedewed with sparkles as in certain cartoons

and when you wake:

your room will be

filled with emeralds

mary angela douglas 20 october 2007

Dear Mr. Oz (The Great and Terrible)

dear mr. oz

behind the curtain

tugging the strings of

your countrymen:

we have waited so long

in this hall of wishes

for life to start-

and all the green wands

are broken-

for the token of a heart,

a mind that ticks,

a night without fear

or a single ride home:

we went through hell.

don't pass the pie-crust promises, please-

not even emerald pie

mary angela douglas 20 october 2007/11 february 2010

Here Is All I Would Like to See

here is all I would like to see

in the nasty fear-inducing Crystal Ball

property of the Wicked you-know-what

on the table-top beside the nerve-racking

oversized hour glass:

Dead Witch.

Dead Flying Monkeys.

mary angela douglas 20 october 2007

Bright Green Was the Land

bright green was the land

as if painted with tempera

by children painting boldly

with large brushes

and the sun is a mistaken streak

of yellow-green that drips

on a clothesline wash now

suddenly chartreuse.

my shimmering easel, then

it's apple-green recess

all the time when you dot the "i" in peridot.

and we're let out of school early

to make rhymes on cherished newsprint

the color of key limes

mary angela douglas 20 october 2007/rev. 3-11 february 2010

Green Leaves Emerge Like Little

green leaves emerge like little
green stars on all the sticky branches
it is spring in the Emerald City and

aren't you so entranced whenever lite
green perfumes waft through:
these dollhouse shuttered windows

as children we gazed through
to wallpapers and needlepoint
patterned with roses?

now fingerpainted-green dogs bark
in thumb-printed swirls that
we remember-

they frisk in the sun
that can never set
on vari-colored landscapes

we don't have words for, yet-

mary angela douglas 20 october 2007/rev. 6-11 february 2010

I Am Going Up An Emerald Staircase

I am going up an emerald staircase

with an emerald mind

can't you hear

my pale (appropriate) green

footfall?

for I read under the shade

trees in summer

weaving this charming day

and I have built, extravagantly,

a way to keep on dreaming-

(even while seeming not to)

winding my watch of mist

past all disasters

going up an emerald staircase

into a realm of blue-

mary angela douglas 20 october 2007/rev. 7 february 2010

No More Emerald Music

no more emerald music

they said

and we trudged off to bed

still dreaming completely in green

and in school

it was the rule

(in study hall)

don't hide your worthless

emerald stories behind

your upstanding

algebra the teachers said, upholding the

values of formulas above even

this turquoise-green sky

what use was algebra

when all we heard

before or after

(or cared to hear)

was emerald music?

mary angela douglas 20 october 2007/rev. 6 february 2010

When I Woke Up

when I woke up

there was war in the emerald city

no one was at hand

I did not jump from the tower I

packed all I had:

defying the evening news

drifting downstream from the debris-

retrieving everything the

missing children

had to leave behind

mary angela douglas 20 october 2007/rev. 6 february 2010

I Thought That You Would Know

I thought that you would know

which way the yellow road was turning

when you stood by me

in the pink sunset.

but many emerald years have gone

and the grass has

grown over

all former kingdoms

and I am clasping only

the wind's brief hand:

crossing the sea

that once was land-

mary angela douglas 14 october 2007/rev. 11 february 2010

Waiting for Oz Was Too Hard

waiting for oz was too hard

when everything came down to

one moment

so I turned back

not knowing you had

already gone through the

gate

I retraced everything:

the storm that took me

away-

the house unhinged

the miracle of a safe landing.

and the green wish hidden

in your eyes

mary angela douglas 14 october 2007

The Startled Birds Fly

the startled birds fly

into the sun

oh icarus

and I fulfill your

last request

I am singing in the golden air

the startled birds

fly into the sea

and weeping is renewed

like a contract

but in my most

recent dream of you:

the pristine enterprise

can never fail

and your wings grow stronger-

mary angela douglas 5 october 2007

Oh Melting Page

oh melting page

beneath my hand

oh melting

stars streaming out

above me

my ink is made of

clouds

oh melting air

beneath my head

oh dream melting

into the atmosphere

of a room where...

flowers breathe

unseen

let me transfix your

goldenness and

your weeping

in this frail moment of rest

oh shore melting into

the sea of this distress:

more is the quantity

I cannot give beyond

the song melting into your gaze

your light that will melt again

from my sad visionary field

this soon

mary angela douglas 5 october 2007