Tuesday, March 31, 2020

How Overcast The Earth When Men Must Keep Their Jobs

how overcast the earth when men must keep their jobs
and let the Dragon live where what is to be done is nothing
but the lucrative

not mention to the one dim rising star

where God is I am though it be too hard
let brimstone leak where man soft hour by hour
let the Dragon the lost town devour

than speak one word of comfort to the few
who stand in wind and fire to spoil the view
how overcast, how sorrowful the Sun

that casts itself into a summer sea
and would forever for true liberty
and for the sake of love, Christ's love unending

lose all

lose all
lose all.

mary angela douglas 31 march 2020

Monday, March 30, 2020

A Primer For These Days

Sally run round the roses in a time of war
say what's all this bickering for
run Sally run.

say Sally.see and say.
isnt it fun to talk this way
isnt it fun to play 

neat in the picture book assemblies
molded to a paper doll stage.
someday you will move away

move sally.
pack the van and you will wave
wave Sally wave.

in the red wagon or the green.
with the dolls and a pitcher of cream.
in a pinafore dress with princess seams

youll wake up in a foreign dream
sally run round the roses.

mary angela douglas 30 march 2020

They're Bringing You Flowers Beyond The Lines (Final Draft)

'they're bringing you flowers beyond the Lines
and hoping you havent  disappeared
and hoping you still have warm socks on

and won't fall victim to your fears.
your mother is darning the hole in the sun
your father tills the moon

your sister is playing run sheep run
her tennis shoes soaked with dew.

somewhere the world with cherry pie
where plum and peach are still put by
misses you most when you sip broth and want to cry

though every tear is rationed.
some night a space in the clouds will appear
and God will thread you a ladder of light

and youll climb out of the dungeons drear
and find fresh comfort in old delights.

mary angela douglas 30 march 2020


Sunday, March 29, 2020

Consider

consider the lilies...He said on a hill
day fading to twilight I always will
consider the lilies

and there they are 
like stars in bloom
and there they grow

beyond the tomb
consider the lilies.
they shine in the places

where he was
the lilies so dear so loved by God
as we ourselves

in the lonely fields
as we ourselves
when all is revealed

we are the lilies
so cherished by God
we are the lilies

and shine for love
consider condider the lilies.

mary angela douglas 29 march 2020

Singing In A Well

I'm singing in a well and I'm pretty far down
and the stars float by
and a drift of sky

I'm singing in a well.

I'm singing in a well and I must confess
I wish I'd worn a different dress
and I'm singing in a well with a silver sound
and angels hear me far from town.

I'm singing in a well where blossoms float
pretending I'm swimming in a castle moat
and soon I'll reach the other side

or else wash up with the incoming tide.
I'm singing in a well.

I'm singing in a well
and there is no doubt
till God comes down
and pulls me OUT!

mary angela douglas 29 march 2020

Somewhere There Is

somewhere there is a place love wont betray
where day turned into night will not hold sway
where what is promised cannot turn aside

where truth and kindness both do long abide.
somewhere there is

where speech does not entice
the heart to wrong
where song is for its own sake sung

and not a con
where if we dream we cannot be deceived
and if we cry we will not that long grieve

somewhere there is.
where gold for life can never be exchanged
where there is balm for each and every pain

where mercy, mercy only, reigns.
and my heart is a bird with wings
flown farther, farther than disdain.

mary angela douglas 29 march 2020

TO The Christian Poets In Their Beautiful Disgrace

there is no brighter metaphor than Christ

though some would have you bury him pretending to be nice

and pray that you dont mention him again

he still will rise

the planets in his eyes.

the web of morning broken

by the pearls of dew

he weeps for you anew among wild grasses

and by a broken Garden

and right beside you.

why why do you deny Him.

imagine Him as AWOL in the world

what words are vessels for

they want you to ignore

who spoke the world to Light.

oh let it be.

they only see what they want to see

and spill the radiance at their feet so carelessly

like infants still unknowing.

mary angela douglas 27 march 2020

Friday, March 27, 2020

To The Christian Poets In Their Beautiful Disgrace

there is no brighter metaphor than Christ
though some would have you bury him pretending to be nice
and pray that you dont mention him again

he still will rise
the planets in his eyes.
the web of morning broken

by the pearls of dew
he weeps for you anew
and right beside you.
why why do you deny Him.

imagine Him as AWOL in the world

what words are vessels for
they want you to ignore

who spoke the world to Light.
oh let it be.
they only see what they want to see

and spill the radiance at their feet so carelessly
like infants still unknowing.

mary angela douglas 27 march 2020




This Greatly Comforts Me

I have stood in dream grass in my dreams
yet never felt the earth beneath my heel
was I floating then was I somewhat angelical

a being more like cloud than anything else?

how could I tell.

still I was there. 
where are we really here on earth

I feel my dreams question me so fleetingly

but I'll get marked down somewhere maybe
for never knowing how to answer that.

As it happens in fairytales, perhaps it could be revealed

how is it that some return home with a golden leaf from the dreamtime clutched in one hand


irrefutable proof to them at least
and no mistake that
they were really somewhere when they dreamed
though not on any map esteemed

from time to time this greatly comforts me.

when I am near to tears:and the cartographers flee.
o to be lost in dream snow learning to let go
of the too qualified Here


mary angela douglas 27 march 2020





 when

Thursday, March 26, 2020

When Words Were Lined With Roses

when words were lined with roses I was happy
when emeralds spoke to me from dreams and became the ballets
Balanchine was famous for, scores full of jewels

the bouquets heaped onstage

when the clocks were empty as snow, on the bell towers
when the bells rang it was Christmas every hour
and in all my clauses on blue lined paper, snow was imminent.

you may think a thumbprint on a wall is not a work of art
but all things are beloved of children when they are small
except for the ones so poorly guarded by their angels.

we could speak in diamonds if we chose to
why do we speak in nails
and make of the earth a sad sad jail

why dont we ban the word eviction
all cliques notwithstanding
and remember how we wanted to be gipsies

when we grew up.

mary angela douglas 26 march 2020

There Is A Starlight Of The Mind

there is a starlight of the mind
that cannot vanish over time
but only intensify beyond all former magnitudes
variegated and refined
of the red and blue the pink and the wine the chartreuse.
all strange colours over time made more and more
jewellike and laudable spilling out in little pink sapphire
glints of ice and haloed, snow misted
the Heavens crowning earth refulgent in amber.
Not city lights nor bright polluted sunrise or sunset can dim yet
their fervor in the mind since childhood twinkling
and wrought into a song we sang as if the star could hear us
over Bethlehem: provincial and healing
little as we were and loving everything that shines.

mary angela douglas 26 march 2020

Wednesday, March 25, 2020

For Ray Bradbury Early Spring 2020

he made the road appear as if it had always been there
though we knew without him it would have been overgrown
it would have been wilderness by now.

who knew that little boy would turn out to be
the one that captured the sun.
an Icarus who failed not.

let it forever be his birthday
let his picture be painted in an apocryphal way
with pink clouds

a dinosaur smiling in one corner, reduced in size
not to scare the children TOO much.
let the jack o lanterns grin

let there always be porch swings, cider
long afternoons and the leaves painted green
reflecting on everything

the breeze of summer morning
insistently, the clarion call.

of us all.

mary angela douglas 25 march 2020

Some Thoughts On The Economy

funny how when you feel symbolically speaking
youve been bought and sold yourself a few times
your wish to sell nothing yourself becomes more pronounced

not even a thin mint

and so you scatter silver breadcrumbs before the birds of gold
so that they sing as they say or as was said of old at the doors of Heaven.
but we are talking about the economy now

or maybe just forced to listen to those who wont stop talking about it
and I wish i wish money had never been born
among all these green hills,

still living. and I descry it from my soul feeling oh God

surely, we could have lived another way.

mary angela douglas 25 march 2020

Kite

a wish to use gold and silver in the poem
to fly it above the hedges in a paper wind
then to ascend

in purple clouds as if they were drawn with crayons

stained with grape
and to say aloud oh shine, shine my kite of words

above the green hedges the ones with the holly berries


and the little birds 


stay close to home even if you soar but a little

have the transparency of song low flying cloud
dropped in a pale green april

and coming down

slight cantring toward the ground
and in the apple dawn before school.

mary angela douglas 25 march 2020


Tuesday, March 24, 2020

Whatever I Had To Say

the moon in last year's silver skirts the stars
how is it we still know exactly where we are
I wonder sometimes having no compass and 

no astralobe. what is the something in us that still knows
how to sense the ozone in the wind before the rains begin
to still within us the present trials.

we are mysterious too I cry emphatically to the constellations
and gave you names when you had none.
but still they flame on till the moon turns to orchid

and whatever I had to say to you then
or now
is never done.

mary angela douglas 24 march 2020

Alchemy

if I have to stand only in corners
whenever anyone doesnt understand what I mean
the thing they fail to recognize,

I still can dream. I could dream in an ant farm
being one of the ants, the straggler ant
making up tiny reasons to look at a wisp of sky

a rainbow going by in a dewdrop flood
oh listen to me when you think you're stuck in the mud
maybe or that people have counted you out

it doesnt matter
if you get splattered waiting for the bus.
think of us I hear the old ghosts say in primoses
and in  lavender

who also were treated this way.
forget it.
there's gold in everything.

mary angela douglas 24 march 2020

Small Carol For When We Were Little

permanent Christmas has come to stay
we said to ourselves when we were crying
because they had taken the Tree away

on which he was dying.
the tree so green and full of light
became the sorrow of that night

mid afternoon burned in its flight
and they drowned the Sun.
somehow in childhood's Kingdom comes

we felt the light and the shadow some
not that we knew or understood
but there was gloom in the neighborhood wood

in the trees that were felled and then decked out
and carried away out of our house and gone was the gold
and the silver too the apples and pinecones the ornaments few

a glory had passed and we didn't know why
and that is why we began to cry and said to ourselves
with our angels nigh

still on that day
permanent Christmas came to stay.

mary angela douglas 24 march 

Sunday, March 22, 2020

Sometihing Like That

how could you lose the glass mountains
she cried into the wind
whenever I started over in the story

it was months till they were found
tangled underwater with the Christmas bells.
things werent going so well that day

we lost track of time and paper violets
tied with silver bows
it was snowing valentines when we left

and they just kept melting.
while we took note of the Great Composers
bearing the moon our our shoulders

we will save our stamps
and collect the stars into

vast albums
having missed our chance
they are sure to say = something like that.

mary angela douglas 22 march 2020


The Giant Zinnia Tune Played On The Xylophone


giant zinnias were on our planet
large enough for the puppy to play with
ambushing, sunbursting, magenta
tangerine or tamarind
with a sticky loquaciousness
the colour of dark amber
fuschia. or faded strawberry.
near match to our Fanta sodas
sipped = slowly near the milkweed patch
i favored with its lily spokes speaking in small
constellations near to the oleander
giant zinnias how can I tell the sun from you
you are like great clocks
ruby fireworks rooted in fine soil.
and your fragrance is like bitter grass right under the vast
picture window of the piano studio.
hi Grandmother. we can see you from outside.
she smiles her piano smile
I want to go back in a while to the same yard in full summer's
receding tide and under a pomegranate moon
to see my Grandfather planting them again
in his pea green jacket and his fedora.
and sing my zinnia zither tune for him with my sister
how majestic they were as if we lived among the first light
flowers small queens of all the hours who
just wandered in
into an unalienable kingdom;we were that lucky
and spun round till we were dizzy so that the stars came out
early in the afternoon.
in the same colours exactly.
and Grandmother said, come in girls
it's getting cool outside.
mary angela douglas 22 march 2020

Where There Is

where there is light, there is God.
where there is darkness, there is God.
where there are the borderlands of mist
and the grey fields streteched to the limitless curve

of infinity where there are no walkers there
there is God.in the parchedness of it all or
in the hidden forest pool neglected

in the ripples of green trees upon its surface
in the October losings of the leaves
in their dizziness ascending also in

descending there is God.
in going down the notes of the invisible scales
as if we were made of crystal and birdsong
of incomparable music

and that, echoing on in Space beyond  the hearing of any man
to His pearl ear attuned
there is God catching the music in His hand
there is God beyond beyond what we don't understand

though we walk on mosses as if they were velvet

what we are commanded to by ruffians

in infrared or indigo or in the pleating of waters 
by delicate winds there is God again and again
Christ walking on, through all the spectrums world without end

and never to our detriment.

mary angela douglas 22 march 2020

Friday, March 20, 2020

Song For Peripheral Saints

SONG FOR PERIPHERAL SAINTS
no one missed you there
though you left such a vivid thumbprint on the doorposts
so that angels passed over
and turned your mind inside out
emptying out all starlight in the wounding conversations
that followed. your shadows in cerise.
no one missed you. the Party went on
in silly hats and streamers on the lawn
Polichinelle, on the piano.
and the rose dawn starting up
you drift away like clouds parting from clouds
a ghost at the apex of your earthly day
and murmur goldenly to God
and carry on.
since life has come to be this way.
you are not wrong though a thousand talkers talking through
the leaves of all the ancient trees as Frost once noted on the
breeze are not enough
will never be enough
to cancel out from divine memory
the way you have come wing tipped flame to flame
or remove you from His Name.
mary angela douglas 20 march 2020

To Harold Bloom In The First Spring After

the angel is the text
you more or less said in your memoir
and some of us are Jacob when we read

and the night is long the outcome uncertain
if only to pull a single golden bead from it all
and then to string a necklace around The Sun

what is reading but breathing
but only to some
who with braille coding fingers
would read if they could
the snowy face of God
and be consoled.

mary angela douglas 20 march 2020

Thursday, March 19, 2020

Cotillion

always waiting for the beautiful ship to come
is no way to live but we lived that way
living on docks in every angle of the sun

each day the same
despite the indigo waves turning to vermillion.
I wasnt asked to the cotillion

but I danced on invisible waves
a reasonable approximation of a mermaid
learning to be human

and it hurts. this coral enterprise.
also to be mute. so to be thought wise
to communicate through fins

waving in the water 
when the water turns to gold.

mary angela douglas 19 march 2020

To Sharon In A Time Of Perceived Plague

I speak to the person that you were
and speak in flowers wherever  I can whenever I may
as sundry teachers taught us to say, to make that
eternal distinction

and I enunciate in star minted languages
revealed in dreams because we were raised that way, quoting Keats, weren't we?
with our baby starwheels opened on Christmas Day showing the constellations of Spring;

almost like twins twirling the gingham skirts

Grandmother found for us with so many petticoats.
now in a time of perceived plague I think of all the days
we didnt know or imagine

we could be heir to this pantomime just for living longer.
so I think of former days of the phrase dormer windows we loved to say
on a glassed in day sugar and butter on our fairy bread

and pray you will too be keeping the former view in the vuefinder
when we walked out in a yard full of the iris and the rose
and you could transpose anything with your eyes shut

on a bright day with clouds
dreaming the music out of the skies.

mary angela douglas 19 march 2020

Beauty Arises

beauty rises even without walls
in chains in dark disdain neglected beauty
rises from the Cross from the pain of unrelenting
ridicule, mockery, what's in it for us to gain
beauty arises cast away shunted from place to place
for a working day beauty arises
in breakroom solitudes in rough evaluations
nothing said for the sake of the truth
beauty arises spurned doused with gasoline and b
without earnings 
beauty arises left in the pouring rain to fend
turned out again
on the other side of a door that is bolted
the locks changed, in unaccustomed clothes
not at her best beauty stands on the last Strand
waiting for God and the angels to appear
in an unfeeling year.

mary angela douglas 19 march 2020

Wednesday, March 18, 2020

Namby Pamby Nimby Windy

namby pamby nimby windy
not in my back yard said Trendy
out to keep the village safe

happy just to weed and rake
as long as he, make no mistake,
would not get saddled 

with the less than great
or have to answer a needy call 
despite the fact Christ died for ALL

mary angela douglas 18 march 2020

To Ancient Irish Song And Lament As Unto God

for you, Saint Patrick going back into slavery for the sake
of the King Of heaven and to the ancient songs, to Poetry.


not stridency nor a jagged glass
have I ever heqrd in the words I loved
but heaven scent as if a dove

and landed in my tree of poetry
even in the blasted bud,
the singed leaf

even accounting of all grief
still the words were starlight then t me
and now

the moon disappearing through clouds
yet the cloud still luminous.

in favor or out
and rich or poor
only the Word have I adored

the poems brave the poems unsure
unlocking the crystal of the heart

forbidding it to break.

mary angela douglas 18 march 2020

Monday, March 16, 2020

Jenny Lind

to Jenny Lind on the curve of Song
Hans Andersen wrote
in a rose leafed scrawl

to Jenny Lind.
to Jenny Lind on a mermaid shore
Hans Andersen cried

oh evermore I loved you, Jenny Lind.
but song is brief and life is wronged sometimes oh Jenny
my muted swan

drifts on the current and passes by
but Jenny Lind cannot espy
the awkward heart that is so nigh.

tin soldiering on he still salutes
Jenny Lind with the voice of a lute
Jenny Lind.

Jenny Lind in a pale blue shawl
why do you turn your face to the wall
and cast his embroidery out to sea

he only made for love of thee.

mary angela douglas 16 march 2020












Saturday, March 14, 2020

Weeping

sometimes we are weeping old tears
this is painful for a human being
to weep tears from decades ago

to weep tears one hundred years old
and the body is weeping too
we call this illness

the mind is weeping
when the mind is weeping 
we call it names

that make it weep more
sometimes every cell and every tissue and every organ
and every molecule of skin is weeping and weeping

we are the wound itself the face of the wound
and when we summon Christ we see the Image of the wound
grow wings and comfort us
and only God can heal us
and keep us from the Flood of the endless
weeping.

mary angela douglas 15 march 2020


Fix Your Attention On A Distant Star

fix your attention on a distant star
whenever you dont know where you are anymore
or when the grounds shift just from a feather fall.

fix your attention on a distant sun
heartache comes to everyone
such kingdoms pass.

the endings come to everyone at last
fix your attention on a distant star
so the angels will know where you are

and the winds will gather you so far
from all of this now.

mary angela douglas 14 march 2020

I Would Be A Crafter Of Wings

I would be a crafter of wings
three riddles and the cherry unwinding to the stem
that can't reveal the life within
and the cherry tree weeps

the weeping cherry
three riddles given by the silver fairy.
one is a wish for light

for summer in a bottle.
one is the wish for flight
and Icarus remembered.

one remains for late septembers
stars burning down to embers
leaves flown out into the unknown

the Soul would go
but that is the riddle
we cannot know.

mary angela douglas 14 march 2020

Poetry As I Believe It To Be

in previous scenes the lark sang all night long
the moon imbued the apple trees
with a strange silvering of the leaves

and gazing from the gabled windows
I and my compatriots believed

believed in poetry that it was all around us within us
God given like the night quenching dew
or the violets edging 

the woods behind our school
where we played we could rule
over the beautiful even then.

what has it come to now?
a few slogans about dystopia?
somewhere the same old kingdoms

await us as if we were in our memories turned to be
ourselves rhe coming of Arthur
the swelling of the tide

that bears the sailors home.

mary angela douglas 14 march 2020

Never Ending

maybe God made some break in the clouds
so that Spring would be extended
maybe children praying out loud

caused holidays to be upended
maybe the thing that most offended
bloomed into a radiance

Never Ending

mary angela dougla 14 march 2020

Why Does The Rain

why does the rain sweep down from space
who is it pouring so much grace
they dream and they sigh

the wind is passing by
small children say.

mary angela douglas 14 march 2020


Friday, March 13, 2020

Country Interrupted

what is the sound of a million doors slamming
almost at the same time, invitations to emergencies
crowding and lines

a germ is coming let's all make way
as if it were on a railroad timetable

let it hold sway crown it with hey
let's all go away the germ owns everything now
bow down for the germ. make way make way

beware if the germ or you will pay
BELIEVE IN THE GERM

make everything stop no high noon foray
the townspeople shocked are moving away
or they would if they could find a place

where the germ didnt get off at the station
hand washing nation wash on

what season is it anyway when the only thing going on
is closing
for how long, we can't say

maybe the museum
maybe the library.
you can go

but you must stay
oh now the museum.

now the library
now the church service delay
say are they cancelling God today

then the ballet whatever it was
the shamrock parades

then the world of Disney
suddenly the walls to the city have been breached
by a germ by a what if it gets worse

closing is everywhere

not closing sales
not closing the deal
not closing one chapter

and beginning another
closing for its own sake because the germ likes it that way
and we are here to do the bidding of the germ

closing for the sound of  the words on the tongue

without even a bye your leave or an excuse my dust
you must you must you must
adapt yourself to closing lets cancel the sun next

the moon sundry stars
the map of where you are or where you were

reopening on someonw'a noone knows whose
whim who, who knows when

not tasting like cherry or lemon or lime
tasting of time time splintered in an unaccustomed way
by various and sundry

by public announcements over the P.A.
by default by fiat it's on its way draw the shades
breathe quietly maybe it will go away

here comes the census Broadway's gone dark
we all have the sniffles must be the Last Days
everything is going away at the same time

we dont know when it's coming back in nursery rhymes
like Dorothy when the balloon went home without her
I dont know about you but something about this
doesnt make sense

like suddenly someone just threw the switch
on the whole country
and is snickering in the dark.

mary angela douglas 13 march 2020

Thursday, March 12, 2020

Beth

that doll was always the martyr in our story.
poor Beth. the best dressed. in her lavender silk.
even her own chair and table with a drop leaf

for company. that never came
an apple painted wooden teaset
from the 1964 World's Fair

her own worldly possessions.
we relegated her to corners

she had the most saintly face.
she was always in disgrace
when the other dolls talked tittle tattle.

hmmm. maybe, THOUGHT  tittle tattle.
their eyes so round and fixed.
at Christmas all was forgiven.

Hail Queen Beth we cried
echoing Little Women.
the homeside one.

the one who couldnt last.

I'm sorry.

mary angela douglas 12 march 2020