the maps to the Poems have been lost!
cried the king in his sleep
till his sleep was worn quite through
and cried in unison his
royal shadows from the errant castle
no longer that distinct- but doomed
to a strange obsolescence.
never cried the Knight
to his last breath countering
the murky stream
while dark angels proclaimed:
now you will weep no longer knowing why
and the blizzards lock you out
of the laceworks.
but I stood still in the clouded
woods waiting for the vagaries to arrive,
shaking their pearled manes-
did he exclaim?
or put another way, as all things will be, someday:
I have come to this courtyard
mused the merchant
to this particular courtyard and no other
to the wild rose hedge
glow in the snows;
cultivated roses, soothed the Invisible
(editor of all fairy tales then).
anyway, he came. but then forgot to
pluck the rose and Beauty regardless of
this at home may go on to lead
her ordinary ordinary life though
somewhere the silver bells peal out
in ordinary time with a difference,
tone, that some are
called out of the world to
enjewel God
or at least, the ornate calendars-
supping on cabbage soup, dark bread.
oh but he is a jewel on his own
I said (knowing that I remember
the silver names of God
and stand unshod on an
uncomprehending plain
as if to say, I remember light
when all is night and
we had lost our way;
tearful, not even hand in hand
laid rail to rail in a fractured land
that they may go over us
heedlessly
in the kingdoms of our sleep
mary angela douglas 29 august 2015
cried the king in his sleep
till his sleep was worn quite through
and cried in unison his
royal shadows from the errant castle
no longer that distinct- but doomed
to a strange obsolescence.
never cried the Knight
to his last breath countering
the murky stream
while dark angels proclaimed:
now you will weep no longer knowing why
and the blizzards lock you out
of the laceworks.
but I stood still in the clouded
woods waiting for the vagaries to arrive,
shaking their pearled manes-
did he exclaim?
or put another way, as all things will be, someday:
I have come to this courtyard
mused the merchant
to this particular courtyard and no other
to the wild rose hedge
glow in the snows;
cultivated roses, soothed the Invisible
(editor of all fairy tales then).
anyway, he came. but then forgot to
pluck the rose and Beauty regardless of
this at home may go on to lead
her ordinary ordinary life though
somewhere the silver bells peal out
in ordinary time with a difference,
tone, that some are
called out of the world to
enjewel God
or at least, the ornate calendars-
supping on cabbage soup, dark bread.
oh but he is a jewel on his own
I said (knowing that I remember
the silver names of God
and stand unshod on an
uncomprehending plain
as if to say, I remember light
when all is night and
we had lost our way;
tearful, not even hand in hand
laid rail to rail in a fractured land
that they may go over us
heedlessly
in the kingdoms of our sleep
mary angela douglas 29 august 2015
