To the Russian poets and all poets;the shimmering, undefeated "cloud of witnesses" who conveyed at great cost in their own way: the connecting idea between Heaven and earth. And most of all, to the poet from the former Soviet Union who, dying, in prison, wrote his final poem in his own blood on the wall: the single word, "Hope". Whole-hearted To the Triune God in memory of Mary Adalyn Douglas.
Copyright 2006-2016, U.S. and International Copyright all rights reserved by Mary Angela Douglas
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
My Cherry Coloured Clouds My Drifted Snows
my cherry coloured clouds my drifted snows
so merrily she summed up all her sums
while we traced leaves on coloured paper
unwrapped chocolates wrapped in gold
in season and out of the orange cream suns
the very ones the berried ones we wove we were
in the loom-ed shade and lemonade bright as brimming
ever made was ours to quaff where creeks behind
mysterious houses diamonded we played
or cooked on the cookless stove the pink desserts
for anyone who'd come.
and it's so lavish sighed the Princess with her
orchid shoes to match...and gracious at the wedding of the dolls.
how can they say what we had dreamed
and thought, was lost!
marveled the poets while cloudy in the blue marbles the sidewalk singing grew and this is only
one of all the jack-starred songs we knew
when braiding the clovered summers of our favorite afternoons
while the crumbed honey crystallized in the icebox... mary angela douglas 13 january 2015