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 20, 2015
Snatching The Tufts Of Starlight From My Lambs
[to George Herbert] and to my poetry "flocks"
snatching the tufts of starlight from my lambs
a thief of mere peach sunsets came to call:
Hold Sir! I cried for I have more than technicoloured flocks
from the One who made all colours shine
than you can carry off in broad daylight:
under God's unblinking Eye,
thieving the type from the printer's, bold as May
in her several ribbons but it's obscene and will not
last the hour that fades that fades from grass green (and gold to straw spun backwards).
though gem cracked are the stars before you've finished
gleam to gleam and the very winds will cry away! away! to no avail
from the golden apples in the hold of childhood fantasies=
bereft, all all the silver strays- the violet-ridden and the Praise-