Wednesday, August 20, 2008

A Cherry Tree Wind Was Blowing

a cherry tree wind was blowing
Mary Poppins will not depart
the children will be good forever

even when the windows rattle

from wars that can't be helped
nothing falls from the shelf.

they will eat their cherry cobbler

sitting straight up in their chairs
when the cherry wind is blooming

and a beatific light sets the weather vanes on fire

with no harm done-

and everything is as charming as pink cakes

on blue plates and the story's not

the war is won.

I'm breaking off this barley sugar, eclaired poem for you

and the gilt stars are pasted back in Heaven

where they belong

mary angela douglas 17 august 2008/rev. 15 november 2009

El Vieno Soplaba Del Cerezo
 el viento soplaba del cerezo
Mary Poppins no se apartara(accent on last a)
los ninos van a ser buenos para siempre
aun cuando han tintineado las ventana-
de las guerras que no se puede evitar
nada cae el estante.
que van a comer su pastel de cereza
y sentado recta en sus sillas
cuando el viento es la cereza en flor
y una luz beatifica incendia a las veletas
sin dano.
y todo se ecanta como pasteles de rosa
en platos de azul.
a la historia no se levanto la sesion y
se gano la guerra.
estoy rompiendo este poema de
azucar de cebada para ti
y las estrellas doradas se pegan de nuevo
en el cielo
donde pertenecen.

mary angela douglas translation july 5, 2011 of original English poem 20 august 2008 (pub.)

That Is The Script They Hand You

that is the script they hand you
but this is the one you use
please keep in mind

this distinction whenever you are

gazing over yet another precipice-

watch whose words are streaming from your mouth

when your crenellated soul is
so in danger of being

ironed out permanently

that flag is the color of snow

raised in a milky sky
you can't salute

what you don't see:

be careful

mary angela douglas 20 august 2008

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Elaborating This Kingdom Of Silence

elaborating this kingdom of silence
the dream-snow settles down
everywhere is a marvel

and the fragile song arises

with no witnesses
against the backdrop

of yesterday's distress

the burden of words is light

and fused with light,
beyond all sorrow, hushed-

your heart fills up with snow

mary angela douglas 9 august 2008

There Are Many Rooms

there are many rooms
but only one soul

there are many scenes
on your revolving stage

there is a curtain that
blows in and out
if you cross the room

and open the window
looking for
forgotten consolations like the scent of
spring air

dreams rush in with the wind
everytime and you couldn't explain
to anyone if you were asked:
"...the first dream or the last?"

it's not the sequence you care about

there is your
suspension of belief and then:
the many-tiered music begins again

mary angela douglas 9 august 2008

If I Carry No Dream Inside

if I carry no dream inside
how can I live through
the carrion day?

if I believe the news

of endless conflagration
how will I ever unfold

to you this

path of sheer moonlight,
or recite old poetry even with
my eyes closed and recite it

so well

new nightmares are dispelled
and you are calmed?

there are many reasons

to doubt the starry way
but how else could it ever be

that we continue breathing?

mary angela douglas 9 august 2008

I Kept Your Legend

I kept your legend
in a golden jar
behind the throne of God
even on days I was clearly
too familiar

with the briars emeshing the castle

and an ever-widening distance
rippling too far out....
anyway bright angel standing on the pier

there will be a moment

I will not evade like the ones in old paintings

when the first rose opens overhead
in such a coded sky

when Light streams down like a ladder

where angels ascend and descend
and the unfraught world unfurls-

mary angela douglas 9 august 2008

We Are Stricken

we are stricken
and we don't know how
to heal ourselves

without invisible music-

listen to the coolness
of clouds

hold them against your

forehead when you're sick;
string them on your

brightest tree and you are

branching, too, like the sheer
snow branches and then

falls away through all the

fairytale woods...

but you

are ornamented beyond these finite fields.

you will go back the
amber way you came-

and shine-

mary angela douglas 9 august 2008

Lament Of The Jewel-Box Ballerina

help I'm stuck in here
not even turning on a
doll's thin dime

what's she going to spend

it on, anyway

I guess you haven't gone

anywhere lately
requiring jewels so no one's
letting any light in here;

you just can't wear them to

pick up pork chops
but try to understand

my predicament:

it's stifling standing still

all day even if
you're dressed in tulle
besides I might forget

how to twirl and

then where would we be; it's
really dark in here;

the pearls are scaring me

they're gargantuan!

and I can't ward them off
with that one tinny, tiny tune
I can barely remember



mary angela douglas 23 july 2008

Wednesday, August 06, 2008

There Needs To Be A Second Country

there needs to be a second country
where you can go when you're

more than half worn out from

this one

where no one follows orders

since none are given
where no one's existence

must be justified by

paying bills
where there is light

where there is air where

freedom does not disguise
a thousand petty tyrannies

where no one requires

center stage just to sing
you a song

where the grass is allowed to grow

without a neighborhood watch and also,

the soul

mary angela douglas 5 august 2008