maybe it seems to you a small thing.
in my view, nothing is.
I remember our dolls had nail polish
painted on. the Madame Alexander ones.
it did seem a necessary detail fresh out of the Christmas box.
we were glad it was taken care of.
glad for the magnificent doll
dressed and looking like the opera singer Lily Pons who
had velvet embroidery on her cloud light
gown, pale pink velvet roses, light green velvet leaves
on every square of organza with a diamond like tiny
rhinestone at the center of each flower,
each pale square.
a pink satin sash and petticoats beyond compare
a picture hat with roses
teardrop pearl earrings
and auburn hair, like ours.
she was the princess.
though we never called her that.
it is impossible now not to think
she was the veritable Fairy Queen.
yet she had revlon red nails.
something jars when I remember that.
they should have been the palest shell pink, I think.
to match the roses.
yet her demeanor was sweet.too sweet
in realms beyond the professional.
she never could have worked in offices
the dress codes alone...think of it
though I did not know that then.
I mean, if she had fallen on hard times.
despite her typing skills
this we never thought of at that time
when we looked up to her as the paragon doll.
time being so eternal then awash in fairy tales
and unexpected chimes I still miss,
I confess
with all details taken care of
more or less.
mary angela douglas 28 december 2019
Saturday, December 28, 2019
Maybe I'll Turn Myself Into A Cloud
maybe I'll turn myself into a cloud
a cloud that never rains that cannot weep
and drift and fling my rosy shadows
on the ground through the pink skies
where the roses have their heaven
I used to think when I was six or seven
and I shall sweep above the little children now
looking up from play in their backyards
who perhaps even a little start to dream
that way
as though when trouble comes
we all may be allowed to run away,
to live in the sky.
and watch the earth
keep spinning by
spinning its sad gold
forlorn in its blues and greens
its tides of mist
and on its own
while we get off scot free
in realms of mystery.
until on silken ladders of the wind
on some kite's kinder winding it all down day
we shall descend
to happiness again.
as reigning monarchs
in a summer's shade.
mary angela douglas 28 december 2019
a cloud that never rains that cannot weep
and drift and fling my rosy shadows
on the ground through the pink skies
where the roses have their heaven
I used to think when I was six or seven
and I shall sweep above the little children now
looking up from play in their backyards
who perhaps even a little start to dream
that way
as though when trouble comes
we all may be allowed to run away,
to live in the sky.
and watch the earth
keep spinning by
spinning its sad gold
forlorn in its blues and greens
its tides of mist
and on its own
while we get off scot free
in realms of mystery.
until on silken ladders of the wind
on some kite's kinder winding it all down day
we shall descend
to happiness again.
as reigning monarchs
in a summer's shade.
mary angela douglas 28 december 2019
Friday, December 27, 2019
The Lady of Shalott
(for Alfred Lord Tennyson)
space curves back into her embroidery
so that she sees only the work before her
and nothing directly
everything at a slant
or within a thousand veils
or mirrors refracting
shining and shining
and this is art
and where her heart must rest.
and if she strays it will be only into distress
and not the wooded path
bedecked in flowers she imagines
or time filled to the brim with charming hours
but she mistakes
one day distracted is enough to die on
the outward view for the inner
and the path of doom sets in;
the lady floating now between two worlds
receives from Lancelot merely a passing glance
a phrase in the minor key askance
she has a lovely face he muses for a little space
wedded as he is to surface as she was to depth;
irreconcilable! oh beyond mead!
she floats on a river of glass that's breaking now
oblivious toward comprehending Mercy
through Eternities.
mary angela douglas 27 december 2019
space curves back into her embroidery
so that she sees only the work before her
and nothing directly
everything at a slant
or within a thousand veils
or mirrors refracting
shining and shining
and this is art
and where her heart must rest.
and if she strays it will be only into distress
and not the wooded path
bedecked in flowers she imagines
or time filled to the brim with charming hours
but she mistakes
one day distracted is enough to die on
the outward view for the inner
and the path of doom sets in;
the lady floating now between two worlds
receives from Lancelot merely a passing glance
a phrase in the minor key askance
she has a lovely face he muses for a little space
wedded as he is to surface as she was to depth;
irreconcilable! oh beyond mead!
she floats on a river of glass that's breaking now
oblivious toward comprehending Mercy
through Eternities.
mary angela douglas 27 december 2019
Wednesday, December 25, 2019
The Wild Swans
perhaps she was held aloft by threads of the mystic blue and green
or by her dreams prophetic
beckoning to the secret task
as much as by the beating of their wings, the wild birds
her brothers, formerly, enchanted now
and she must undertake their freedom somehow
though the thorns she weaves
won't only break the skin
but her frail heart.
work through the dark of the world
the handiwork of light
the angels cry.
then leave her.
she finds the nettles near the mosses easily
but concealment is impossible
she must endure
the mockery of those
impure who trick and trip her in the lanes
and those from the underworld revived.
who beg the question of the feeling of
still being alive
till in her heart pale birds arise
and cry the cry of centuries denied
the light of the inner sky
the silver bells
the landscape where
all beauty dwells, so unrecovered still.
mary angela douglas 25 december 2019
Tuesday, December 24, 2019
The Last Note Rising At The End of Crystalline Song
for Hans Christian Andersen
I shall break myself into pieces of the star brimmed foam
the sea maid sighed all on a wave
with a fond look home
foundling, coral kingdomed and beset with human woes
bartering pieces of moonlight
bartering pieces of moonlight
for a violet repose
this is the wave resounding
and her presence fled.
this is all she said.
mary angela douglas 24 december 2019
I shall break myself into pieces of the star brimmed foam
the sea maid sighed all on a wave
with a fond look home
foundling, coral kingdomed and beset with human woes
bartering pieces of moonlight
bartering pieces of moonlight
for a violet repose
this is the wave resounding
and her presence fled.
this is all she said.
mary angela douglas 24 december 2019
I Don't Have To
what am I sposed to say
to the ever diminishing day
to the clouds when they drift away
when the clocks dont rhyme that way
when the birds drean out of tune
and I can't find the broom
to sweep my heart of gloom
and all the news is doom
quick banish time
in a new old rhyme
with the silver and gold
in the ship's sweet hold
and the wind skips through
and the world is new
and I just sit
still a part of it
all Glory around
not a single sound
I dont have to say a thing.
mary angela douglas 24 december 2019
to the ever diminishing day
to the clouds when they drift away
when the clocks dont rhyme that way
when the birds drean out of tune
and I can't find the broom
to sweep my heart of gloom
and all the news is doom
quick banish time
in a new old rhyme
with the silver and gold
in the ship's sweet hold
and the wind skips through
and the world is new
and I just sit
still a part of it
all Glory around
not a single sound
I dont have to say a thing.
mary angela douglas 24 december 2019
For Helen Keller Seeing All
spelling the blue clouds indistinguishable from skies
I may come to the sense of things seen never with my eyes
but understood
the leafblown missionary green of woods
the cinnamon of earth, the blowing tide
the secret tolling of an inner bell
inside all spelling done
I had come to love so well
before they ever ever sang
to me the names of God the sweet mild sun
and then the floods came down
like liquid doves fluttering
in the touch of water and vividness arose
to link my heart to the name of the rose
the utterance divine, all things now
beneath their shapes reveal
the cut of orange and the orange peel
the waves of light illimitable
the message of small birds
the weight and heft of language
on the things unheard.
mary angela douglas 24 december 2019
I may come to the sense of things seen never with my eyes
but understood
the leafblown missionary green of woods
the cinnamon of earth, the blowing tide
the secret tolling of an inner bell
inside all spelling done
I had come to love so well
before they ever ever sang
to me the names of God the sweet mild sun
and then the floods came down
like liquid doves fluttering
in the touch of water and vividness arose
to link my heart to the name of the rose
the utterance divine, all things now
beneath their shapes reveal
the cut of orange and the orange peel
the waves of light illimitable
the message of small birds
the weight and heft of language
on the things unheard.
mary angela douglas 24 december 2019
Monday, December 23, 2019
For Isak Dinesen, Her Incomparable Stories
threading words like pale pink diamonds
roseate through old demesnes
will the bearers of this message
sink or swim or just explain
will they vanish disappear
love the ghosts from nameless years
in the story find reprieve
in the richness of its seams
tidewater of the fading stars
does it mirror where you are
human hearts across the bar;
antiquated though it seems
just now waking from their dreams
bright enameled on each page
from a quite mercurial stage
from a realm none else could mine
looping shadows over time
quests forgotten lore renewed
emblematic of the few last- lost- curios...
chiming bells, an attitude
caught that moment in the light
anecdote or wrong set right
Edens green the long goodbye
will the princess even cry
there the countess, there the lie
there the vow that must not die
families of heraldic sin
ice floes at the story's end
when the sweethearts must depart
farther than the story's arc.
mary angela douglas 23 december 2019
roseate through old demesnes
will the bearers of this message
sink or swim or just explain
will they vanish disappear
love the ghosts from nameless years
in the story find reprieve
in the richness of its seams
tidewater of the fading stars
does it mirror where you are
human hearts across the bar;
antiquated though it seems
just now waking from their dreams
bright enameled on each page
from a quite mercurial stage
from a realm none else could mine
looping shadows over time
quests forgotten lore renewed
emblematic of the few last- lost- curios...
chiming bells, an attitude
caught that moment in the light
anecdote or wrong set right
Edens green the long goodbye
will the princess even cry
there the countess, there the lie
there the vow that must not die
families of heraldic sin
ice floes at the story's end
when the sweethearts must depart
farther than the story's arc.
mary angela douglas 23 december 2019
When You Have Forgotten
someday breaking into the last supernova
some imagine their fate that way
spieled across the skies
an unmitigated display
my spelling is more backward
in pale green in Renaissance sighs
scrawled in the snow by the twiglike
birds imprint, of a fairytale disguise
not breaking into print, more glasslike,
bubbled on the wind
the beginning just
of a flowered Capital
shyly devised my friend;
on a rickety staircase
trailing the dust of roses, primroses?
why do they laugh at ancient poets
even as a child it made me sad
then there's the ghost that comes out
shaking the holly berries and you clatter with cold
and you say, this isn't old;are you mad?
it's dripping with gold, the honey stored for you
oh petulant man in a thousand thousand springs
when you have forgotten
all you can of the slow days of Grace.
or never read it rightly in the first place.
mary angela douglas 23 december 2019
some imagine their fate that way
spieled across the skies
an unmitigated display
my spelling is more backward
in pale green in Renaissance sighs
scrawled in the snow by the twiglike
birds imprint, of a fairytale disguise
not breaking into print, more glasslike,
bubbled on the wind
the beginning just
of a flowered Capital
shyly devised my friend;
on a rickety staircase
trailing the dust of roses, primroses?
why do they laugh at ancient poets
even as a child it made me sad
then there's the ghost that comes out
shaking the holly berries and you clatter with cold
and you say, this isn't old;are you mad?
it's dripping with gold, the honey stored for you
oh petulant man in a thousand thousand springs
when you have forgotten
all you can of the slow days of Grace.
or never read it rightly in the first place.
mary angela douglas 23 december 2019
Sunday, December 22, 2019
The Herods of Art Defied
the beautiful thing preserved in God's own amber
is the subject of my poem today
because on earth there were too many herods
cutting the unbudded rose away
and who knows what else before dawn
hauled before their firing squad in its luminescence still
and made to pay and made to go
permanently away
then the king is so happy
until the wisemen say
oh we have seen some Star in the East..
how else the mystery
the beautiful artist discovered too late
long gone from the gated earth
the earth that makes him wait or her
and wait and wait and languish
with no pay no sigh of recognition
in his day or hers.
be sure the angels notice this iniquity.
how else do the pure
endure.
mary angela douglas 22 december 2019
is the subject of my poem today
because on earth there were too many herods
cutting the unbudded rose away
and who knows what else before dawn
hauled before their firing squad in its luminescence still
and made to pay and made to go
permanently away
then the king is so happy
until the wisemen say
oh we have seen some Star in the East..
how else the mystery
the beautiful artist discovered too late
long gone from the gated earth
the earth that makes him wait or her
and wait and wait and languish
with no pay no sigh of recognition
in his day or hers.
be sure the angels notice this iniquity.
how else do the pure
endure.
mary angela douglas 22 december 2019
Unexpected Radiances
the tragic creeps through a different keyhole than this
said alice carefully in my half dream
that comes and goes with the roses
what if ive read the wrong directions
or if I put the key in wrong so that it halfway turns
on a dungeon song
let me think it through she implored the clouds
floating over
the ruined battlements where the violets peeked through
how does time elapse in dreams, in you
do we collapse in colours painting the living stream
ourselves or
it flits from scene to scene
dissolves with no conclusions
find the slipstream through
to the garden where the birds sing
an interrupting music you are glad for.
yet the tragic creeps through
the least crevice, cornice seeping
down to the willows river strewn
and this is my half finished tune
through the same crack could come
all glorious the morning sun
in rose and amber
could roses clamber over the stone
and we cup the iris moment in our hands,
momentously
no way said the schoolmaster to elude the gloom
in the play
when the heroes are struck down this way
but I, said alice in my alice blue gown
learned better.
it's all deceiving weather
on the darkest day
pooled in your vast dear tears
the key in the lock could
click into unexpected radiances.
mary angela douglas 22 december 2019
said alice carefully in my half dream
that comes and goes with the roses
what if ive read the wrong directions
or if I put the key in wrong so that it halfway turns
on a dungeon song
let me think it through she implored the clouds
floating over
the ruined battlements where the violets peeked through
how does time elapse in dreams, in you
do we collapse in colours painting the living stream
ourselves or
it flits from scene to scene
dissolves with no conclusions
find the slipstream through
to the garden where the birds sing
an interrupting music you are glad for.
yet the tragic creeps through
the least crevice, cornice seeping
down to the willows river strewn
and this is my half finished tune
through the same crack could come
all glorious the morning sun
in rose and amber
could roses clamber over the stone
and we cup the iris moment in our hands,
momentously
no way said the schoolmaster to elude the gloom
in the play
when the heroes are struck down this way
but I, said alice in my alice blue gown
learned better.
it's all deceiving weather
on the darkest day
pooled in your vast dear tears
the key in the lock could
click into unexpected radiances.
mary angela douglas 22 december 2019
Friday, December 20, 2019
A Winter Scene from The Little Match Gril (by Hans Christian Andersen)
and if I warm my hands
at the grate of what is to come
perhaps there will be no sun
or a winter sun
that shines yet chides me.
if I warm my hands
it is against that light
that came so long ago
in Bethlehem where God Himself the Sun
revealed the Star.
though I am here
I am not really;where they ask
when they pass if they ask at all
who are you
except I warm my hands
against that night
when all of darkness
was blasted by the Light.
mary angela douglas 20 december 2019
at the grate of what is to come
perhaps there will be no sun
or a winter sun
that shines yet chides me.
if I warm my hands
it is against that light
that came so long ago
in Bethlehem where God Himself the Sun
revealed the Star.
though I am here
I am not really;where they ask
when they pass if they ask at all
who are you
except I warm my hands
against that night
when all of darkness
was blasted by the Light.
mary angela douglas 20 december 2019
Wednesday, December 18, 2019
Creche
You're my Jesus in a manger
the shepherds and the mild sheep too
my angels singing out of glory
my Star, my song the onderstruck few.
you're my wandering and my fate
the Star that vanquished half the night
rose Of Jesse, root of sorrow
undertaken for my sake.
light my way in public housing
find my stall
though they unhouse me
in the stille nacht
come near
though everything should disappear
still your heart I ever seek
as when a child
my soul you'd keep.
come this Christmas near or far
Father you, whom nothing marrs.
even in this dubious year
you will keep me from all fear.
mary angela douglas 18 december 2019
the shepherds and the mild sheep too
my angels singing out of glory
my Star, my song the onderstruck few.
you're my wandering and my fate
the Star that vanquished half the night
rose Of Jesse, root of sorrow
undertaken for my sake.
light my way in public housing
find my stall
though they unhouse me
in the stille nacht
come near
though everything should disappear
still your heart I ever seek
as when a child
my soul you'd keep.
come this Christmas near or far
Father you, whom nothing marrs.
even in this dubious year
you will keep me from all fear.
mary angela douglas 18 december 2019
Tuesday, December 17, 2019
No!
The Son of God was not born
so that little children could only sing snow carols at school
so that they could laugh at Santa Claus
his belly that jiggled like jelly ho ho
The light of the world in a free country
oh we must not breathe his name
in the public square for public shame
we must not offend we must be sensitive and aware
of others feelings
who could be offended at the
message of love and peace
of relief from endless grief.
cloud shallow we must remain
and trending
in denial never ending
though angels crowd the skies;
must we submit to lies?
pretending he never came
so that we can all get along
stifling our Christmas song
and all the heralding
the candle lit within the Soul
ignoring for this rigmarole.
No I answer.
NO!
mary angela douglas 17 december 2019
Sunday, December 15, 2019
Dirge
dear customer Im oh so glad
to show you all the best I have
in my so well appointed store
unless you are, the very poor
I wonder what it is you'll steal
I watch where there is
no appeal sentence and try you at my ease
don't brush your coat against those please
you scarecrow scaring off the crowds
you shouldnt be on streets allowed
or in the public's right of way
I wish you'd leave the earth today
why dont you
oh just go away
some angel cried
from some bright realm
checking the lists and very well
I do believe while sorting bins
next week and packs of needles and pins
the rarest items for display
this shopkeeper will pass away
and leave his raggedy customer rich
who's still alive though in a ditch.
who has the blue Carolina skies
to watch him with a mild surmise
in his anguished enterprise.
mary angela douglas 15 december 2019
to show you all the best I have
in my so well appointed store
unless you are, the very poor
I wonder what it is you'll steal
I watch where there is
no appeal sentence and try you at my ease
don't brush your coat against those please
you scarecrow scaring off the crowds
you shouldnt be on streets allowed
or in the public's right of way
I wish you'd leave the earth today
why dont you
oh just go away
some angel cried
from some bright realm
checking the lists and very well
I do believe while sorting bins
next week and packs of needles and pins
the rarest items for display
this shopkeeper will pass away
and leave his raggedy customer rich
who's still alive though in a ditch.
who has the blue Carolina skies
to watch him with a mild surmise
in his anguished enterprise.
mary angela douglas 15 december 2019
Friday, December 13, 2019
Cherry Top, Lemon Pop
cherry top, lemon pop
what a fizz
oh gee whiz
so delicious
not nutritious
oh but please
cherry cheese
pastry's best
in the West
marshmallow cream
doesn't it seem
candy canes
down the drain
your last cent
where it went
just a kid
lift the lid
take the cake
mischief make
every time
this skipping rhyme
brownie or fudge
dont you judge
God made sweets
and all treats
for us here
do not fear
heaven holds
much more than those.
just be merry
scoop the berries
orange tarts
will make you smart
sugar plum
and butter rum
now I'm done.
yum yum yum.
mary angela douglas 13 december 2019
what a fizz
oh gee whiz
so delicious
not nutritious
oh but please
cherry cheese
pastry's best
in the West
marshmallow cream
doesn't it seem
candy canes
down the drain
your last cent
where it went
just a kid
lift the lid
take the cake
mischief make
every time
this skipping rhyme
brownie or fudge
dont you judge
God made sweets
and all treats
for us here
do not fear
heaven holds
much more than those.
just be merry
scoop the berries
orange tarts
will make you smart
sugar plum
and butter rum
now I'm done.
yum yum yum.
mary angela douglas 13 december 2019
Thursday, December 12, 2019
Surfaces
I saw words, their skaters glazing over
the thin crust of the dead moon broken through
I heard the Big Parade when it was over
the dawns without their overcoats ensued.
the city remade. remade, but in no image
I could discern then we let gumballs fall
from the tree in silver ruin and called it a Christmas
and I said look there is beauty still there is
and stilled because the city will forge its will
against the diamond hardship of the few.
the few for the many. let them pay the price
or the many for the few I can't recall the rule
till everything is spoken out of ice
and the press is silence.
but the citizens are nice.
the citizens are nice
and we are dying.
mary angela douglas 12 december 2019
the thin crust of the dead moon broken through
I heard the Big Parade when it was over
the dawns without their overcoats ensued.
the city remade. remade, but in no image
I could discern then we let gumballs fall
from the tree in silver ruin and called it a Christmas
and I said look there is beauty still there is
and stilled because the city will forge its will
against the diamond hardship of the few.
the few for the many. let them pay the price
or the many for the few I can't recall the rule
till everything is spoken out of ice
and the press is silence.
but the citizens are nice.
the citizens are nice
and we are dying.
mary angela douglas 12 december 2019
Tuesday, December 10, 2019
Forgive Us Lord That So Many Things
forgive us Lord that so many things
seem infinitely more lucrative, you can't miss,
a sure fire thing
than your lovely banished Wing
still hovering near us banded with o! all rainbows.
what do we do we are like infants still
not knowing what we want
and cross with every thing
and spoiling our dinner.
let us remember Who you are
the One who made the Star, all roses
planets and ordained orchids and
that we should dream to ride the wind
I do. under the shelter of your Wing
and only then
mary angela douglas 10 december 2019
seem infinitely more lucrative, you can't miss,
a sure fire thing
than your lovely banished Wing
still hovering near us banded with o! all rainbows.
what do we do we are like infants still
not knowing what we want
and cross with every thing
and spoiling our dinner.
let us remember Who you are
the One who made the Star, all roses
planets and ordained orchids and
that we should dream to ride the wind
I do. under the shelter of your Wing
and only then
mary angela douglas 10 december 2019
The Poem To Thingamabobs
for Ray Bradbury in the Golden Age again
this is my poem to thingamabobs, to the newfangled, spangled
lest we forget to love and dust the bric a brac
to sneeze and then discard with these
do not, whose kingdoms you would banish
all the windmilled, pinwheeled toys, the click and the clack
Walt Disney's on the track
and train whistled too this castle's for you, with its
world's fair mentions, crystal palaces at end of days
the cheery tools that shone like anything
this is my poem to thingamabobs, to the newfangled, spangled
lest we forget to love and dust the bric a brac
to sneeze and then discard with these
do not, whose kingdoms you would banish
all the windmilled, pinwheeled toys, the click and the clack
Walt Disney's on the track
and train whistled too this castle's for you, with its
world's fair mentions, crystal palaces at end of days
the crown jewel displays
all we sought in little ways and the dollhouse too, the dolls
the amazing maze of all of it all
recall, red rubber balls, jacks handled deftly on a summer porch
the siren calls of toys forever calling you on a rotary dial red plastic phone:
all we sought in little ways and the dollhouse too, the dolls
the amazing maze of all of it all
recall, red rubber balls, jacks handled deftly on a summer porch
the siren calls of toys forever calling you on a rotary dial red plastic phone:
eome on home, they plead
the cheery tools that shone like anything
in the grade school primer
on one Saturday afternoon littered with
toyshop elfish clues and jiminey cricket this is quite a setup
even with one tweak one twist one game of whist
or mah jong too
one charming turn of the dial
and it's all lit up like Christmas for a while
that may be longer too
if you should choose
you so and so marvelous
whats its and will be too
the charming invention and the kite flown
wings and wings of man and icarus breathes again
in all the solar winds
making the angels laugh and spin the children ever merry
oh nation of optimists, disguised as dystopian fans:
on one Saturday afternoon littered with
toyshop elfish clues and jiminey cricket this is quite a setup
even with one tweak one twist one game of whist
or mah jong too
one charming turn of the dial
and it's all lit up like Christmas for a while
that may be longer too
if you should choose
you so and so marvelous
whats its and will be too
the charming invention and the kite flown
wings and wings of man and icarus breathes again
in all the solar winds
making the angels laugh and spin the children ever merry
oh nation of optimists, disguised as dystopian fans:
come out from your swampish hiding place
remember your story lands
oh catch as catch can.
mary angela douglas 10 december 2019;2 nobember 2021
oh catch as catch can.
mary angela douglas 10 december 2019;2 nobember 2021
Monday, December 09, 2019
The Moon In My Coffee
the moon in my coffee the colour of cream
is rising a little incredible dream
im out on the terrace the evening is young
and trying to study the flares on the sun
the moon in my coffee the colour of gold
is iced with small crystals it's starting to snow
im starting to feel it for Heaven's sake
the heat isnt on in here
my mistake
was causing the terrace to ice over blue
a beautiful dream but Im glad it's not true.
mary angela douglas 9 december 2019
is rising a little incredible dream
im out on the terrace the evening is young
and trying to study the flares on the sun
the moon in my coffee the colour of gold
is iced with small crystals it's starting to snow
im starting to feel it for Heaven's sake
the heat isnt on in here
my mistake
was causing the terrace to ice over blue
a beautiful dream but Im glad it's not true.
mary angela douglas 9 december 2019
Sunday, December 08, 2019
Panelope at Her Loom
heroic virtue was to stay behind
weaving the same threads over time
then most of all, unweaving.
but in the book I understand
heroic virtue in that man
was leaving.
gold in the honey
amber chimes;
the waves caesura
in her mind
reminding her of all of Time
and all of Time, is grieving.
who would that adventure choose
weaving love up in her room
unweaving it again.
yet still, love proving,
until then
having so much to pretend
and no one no one to defend
her seeming lack of household skill
her fortress against every will
to unweave her.
basting and unbasting still
I think of her
I always will
beyond the clash of steel and verve
the mariners, the sea's wild curve
the house in ruins and still she weaves
stalwart beyond every seam and meaning
of the world's reversals, queen.
and love itself dreamed and undreamed
relentlessly. I don't know how
she kept through anguished epochs
such a vow.
mary angela douglas 8 december 2019
weaving the same threads over time
then most of all, unweaving.
but in the book I understand
heroic virtue in that man
was leaving.
gold in the honey
amber chimes;
the waves caesura
in her mind
reminding her of all of Time
and all of Time, is grieving.
who would that adventure choose
weaving love up in her room
unweaving it again.
yet still, love proving,
until then
having so much to pretend
and no one no one to defend
her seeming lack of household skill
her fortress against every will
to unweave her.
basting and unbasting still
I think of her
I always will
beyond the clash of steel and verve
the mariners, the sea's wild curve
the house in ruins and still she weaves
stalwart beyond every seam and meaning
of the world's reversals, queen.
and love itself dreamed and undreamed
relentlessly. I don't know how
she kept through anguished epochs
such a vow.
mary angela douglas 8 december 2019
Saturday, December 07, 2019
En Pointe Point Of View
we;ll dress up in cherry tulle
and weave the sparkles in our hair
and we'll pretend that we are dancing
on the sidewalk, anywhere.
floating in a lilac mist
just en pointe and all of this
while we catch the bus to work
or wend our way through winter's murk.
mary angela douglas 7 december 2019
and weave the sparkles in our hair
and we'll pretend that we are dancing
on the sidewalk, anywhere.
floating in a lilac mist
just en pointe and all of this
while we catch the bus to work
or wend our way through winter's murk.
mary angela douglas 7 december 2019
Key
we dreamed jurisdictions of snow;
precincts of moonlight.
in the world we were the last to know
anything at all how often we were told.
but in Heaven, we turned the key.
mary angela douglas 7 december 2019
precincts of moonlight.
in the world we were the last to know
anything at all how often we were told.
but in Heaven, we turned the key.
mary angela douglas 7 december 2019
Roseate
could I find in the fairy tale wood
a beautiful something understood
not spoken
could I speak and learn the writing off the page
the Christmas pageant in the margins of the Star
could I speak of where You are
a different way I never thought
on days of play
but I was in this anyway
this play, this sparkling understood;
to learn that language,
if I could!
or try to
I would venture all
though I am counted very small
as small as I, can feel the wind
through all the pines and whisper then
oh I will I will try again
to speak what roseate words I can
with just a twist of a sleight of hand
unfold the rose, unwrap the stars
oh Father, I know who you Are.
mary angela douglas 7 december 2019
a beautiful something understood
not spoken
could I speak and learn the writing off the page
the Christmas pageant in the margins of the Star
could I speak of where You are
a different way I never thought
on days of play
but I was in this anyway
this play, this sparkling understood;
to learn that language,
if I could!
or try to
I would venture all
though I am counted very small
as small as I, can feel the wind
through all the pines and whisper then
oh I will I will try again
to speak what roseate words I can
with just a twist of a sleight of hand
unfold the rose, unwrap the stars
oh Father, I know who you Are.
mary angela douglas 7 december 2019
Friday, December 06, 2019
Falling Into The Myth As Into Silver Water
falling into the myth as into silver water
I dreamed I could not drown a useless daughter
and everything sparkled
a wish to be found
and no one said
can you subtract this in your head
dividing the sentence as if it were
from the deli.
lunch crowds come and go.
this is what I know
there is no limit to wondering
reasons why
turning the stars wheels further back in time
to the dream towns when they were
looking for Christmas, the rose red rhyme
and all this time,
spurred on by the Star.
mary angela douglas 6 december 2019
I dreamed I could not drown a useless daughter
and everything sparkled
a wish to be found
and no one said
can you subtract this in your head
dividing the sentence as if it were
from the deli.
lunch crowds come and go.
this is what I know
there is no limit to wondering
reasons why
turning the stars wheels further back in time
to the dream towns when they were
looking for Christmas, the rose red rhyme
and all this time,
spurred on by the Star.
mary angela douglas 6 december 2019
Tuesday, December 03, 2019
Antartica Has No Countries
antarctica has no countries
I read in a book today.
how out of the way
I began to feel the snow melt gather
where I never stowed this away
I don/t remember
the thing I learned
as if it had been bewitched
antarctica of no countries
if I may address you so
confessing I did not know
perhaps you are where God goes
when he wants to think about
only Andromeda. the southernmost cross.
perhaps if I could go there too
I could be lost as children do
at their pink parties
the snow of my mind
losing all ferny imprints over time
to breathe in a pure green arc
of summers that never were;
to never be taxed.
dreaming in pastel
not of this or that
but of a glazing cold
the sky the sky
lead over rose, a faint blue
at the scientific station
where the soul has not one nation while
the ghosts of unremitting angels
teletype some message from the sun.
mary angela douglas 3 december 2019
I read in a book today.
how out of the way
I began to feel the snow melt gather
where I never stowed this away
I don/t remember
the thing I learned
as if it had been bewitched
antarctica of no countries
if I may address you so
confessing I did not know
perhaps you are where God goes
when he wants to think about
only Andromeda. the southernmost cross.
perhaps if I could go there too
I could be lost as children do
at their pink parties
the snow of my mind
losing all ferny imprints over time
to breathe in a pure green arc
of summers that never were;
to never be taxed.
dreaming in pastel
not of this or that
but of a glazing cold
the sky the sky
lead over rose, a faint blue
at the scientific station
where the soul has not one nation while
the ghosts of unremitting angels
teletype some message from the sun.
mary angela douglas 3 december 2019
Sunday, December 01, 2019
Elsinore By Daylight (Final Draft)
for William Shakespeare
Elsinore by daylight
still seems night
exit all heroes borne from the stage
of what they are, or were
of what they seemed to be
to visionary sweethearts
and the fruitless trees in shadow;
now winter stands prolonged
the castle bare.
the players played
or those for whom we cared
in garnet executions scarred
and I will sing thee threnody
a ghost myself out in the yard
in other dawns than these
yet whispering the same
retribution for the Beautiful
slain.
mary angela douglas 1 december 2019
Elsinore By Daylight
Elsinore by daylight
still seems night
exit all heroes borne from the stage
of what they are
of what they seemed to be
to visionary sweethearts
and the fruitless trees
now winter stands prolonged
the castle bare.
the players played
or those for whom we cared
and I will sing this threnody
a ghost myself
and whispering the same
retribution for the Beautiful
slain.
mary angela douglas 1 december 2019
still seems night
exit all heroes borne from the stage
of what they are
of what they seemed to be
to visionary sweethearts
and the fruitless trees
now winter stands prolonged
the castle bare.
the players played
or those for whom we cared
and I will sing this threnody
a ghost myself
and whispering the same
retribution for the Beautiful
slain.
mary angela douglas 1 december 2019
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