Spring At the Academy And In A Floor Length Gown

[The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas, 

    The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, 

    And the highwayman came riding— 

from The Highwayman, Alfred Noyes]

from the dais the tears drop slowly if at all

think multitudes and in their party dress at

home watching the Awards

how nervous the shimmering ones appear

at the gathering year after year under the sequined

chiffoned revolving sphere is a world a world

within a world it's not projected anymore and the

click of the threaded reel to reel isn't what I feel

it's no circus balloon no cotton candied sun that's

setting on a blank canvas hit and run the moon in clown face

oh you exaggerate I'm sure but what you feel

is pure and wafts like the scent of heavy flowers

in the garden heavy with dreams with the scent of

violet rains are we washed clean, not yet there's

someone, I forget, Someone-

I didn't mention in my speech, accepting everything

but the role of myself and we watch movies, movies,

movies thinking they know something we don't, maybe

it's time to leave the camera alone for awhile, the phone, the

contract talks, the moon floats ghostly galleon clouds tomorrow's another day I want to say no few words at all but something's in the

way of the viewers viewing

God's in His castle weeping weeping weeping

they have stripped my Spring away, the ground is covered

with blossoms everywhere you walk, but

you never see them

mary angela douglas 14 august 2014