protect us from eternal gossips Lord
who seem to appear in every scene of the play
and speak in code amongst each other
in front of our faces in the train stations
in the grocery aisle where we just smile
and wish good day to those who watch us
on our way ready for another foray
into the ridiculed life they imagine for us.
spare us those who secretly deplore us.
surely you muse. rage they always take center stage
somehow loitering in the golden rays of evening's
lapsing suns
oh every ONE of you. cant you just stop snickering long enough
to watch the moon rise.
over your sidelong, sidereal eyes.
mary angela douglas 22 may 2020
Friday, May 22, 2020
Thursday, May 21, 2020
The Legend Of The Beautiful And What Was Said
Beautiful said: Forever we must be
to the riven moonlight coating the evening seas
bearing the lighthouse beams.
Beautiful said: oh always, to the rose
bloom in the depth of Spring and as Summer goes.
and the roses wept their petals
and the evening froze.
Beautiful cried then we'll become the snows
and blanket all the earth and all her woes
and calm the city streets and the moon still glowed
above it all and the darkness filled with peace.
ask God. Who knows.
mary angela douglas 21 may 2020
to the riven moonlight coating the evening seas
bearing the lighthouse beams.
Beautiful said: oh always, to the rose
bloom in the depth of Spring and as Summer goes.
and the roses wept their petals
and the evening froze.
Beautiful cried then we'll become the snows
and blanket all the earth and all her woes
and calm the city streets and the moon still glowed
above it all and the darkness filled with peace.
ask God. Who knows.
mary angela douglas 21 may 2020
Wednesday, May 20, 2020
Art Project
when the ink has dried on the sky
He may write across it in stars
and there's your house
the one made out of color forms
or etched into scratch art
with colors layer on layer
so that you want to make
if your mother will let you
a color layer cake
using all the crayons at once
oh then you want to finger paint the sun
with more light than anyone has ever used before
except God of course in the beginning
with all His meteors.
mary angela douglas 20 may 2020
He may write across it in stars
and there's your house
the one made out of color forms
or etched into scratch art
with colors layer on layer
so that you want to make
if your mother will let you
a color layer cake
using all the crayons at once
oh then you want to finger paint the sun
with more light than anyone has ever used before
except God of course in the beginning
with all His meteors.
mary angela douglas 20 may 2020
So God Can See Us From All The Way Up There
we'll make semaphores in the snow, lost angels
so God can see us from all the way up there
and swoop down, vast Eagle that He is.
we'll rig something up with the dolls and the bears
the celluloid pink plastic mirrors of our childhood
reflecting the solar flares
or Mardi Gras beads brought back to us from New Orleans
by a favorite favorite teacher.
or we'll divert the streams
into the mossy hinterlands
where He casts his green green shadow
among the trees and longs for His own shade
and drops his golden apples when He may
and keeps on demonstrating Gravity
as if Newton lived again or he missed him.
or maybe He's just a friend to us
children playing tag in the apple orchards
or waiting for summer rain lagging in this heat
and thirsty for lemonade
we wish we could pour out
for Him and the Baby Jesus.
mary angela douglas 20 may 2020
so God can see us from all the way up there
and swoop down, vast Eagle that He is.
we'll rig something up with the dolls and the bears
the celluloid pink plastic mirrors of our childhood
reflecting the solar flares
or Mardi Gras beads brought back to us from New Orleans
by a favorite favorite teacher.
or we'll divert the streams
into the mossy hinterlands
where He casts his green green shadow
among the trees and longs for His own shade
and drops his golden apples when He may
and keeps on demonstrating Gravity
as if Newton lived again or he missed him.
or maybe He's just a friend to us
children playing tag in the apple orchards
or waiting for summer rain lagging in this heat
and thirsty for lemonade
we wish we could pour out
for Him and the Baby Jesus.
mary angela douglas 20 may 2020
The Last Blue Watercolour
my soul imprinted in the Book of Snow
cannot seem to cast its glow
here on earth
though I am the glass where frost writes its summer chronicles
icing the strawberries overnight the mystical orange groves
and keep myself clear as moonlight
to be so
to be so without detection unless by God
to speak in waterfall speech casting over its pearls
at the end of the end of the world fresco al fresco lavish with
stars
cannot seem to cast its glow
here on earth
though I am the glass where frost writes its summer chronicles
icing the strawberries overnight the mystical orange groves
and keep myself clear as moonlight
to be so
to be so without detection unless by God
to speak in waterfall speech casting over its pearls
at the end of the end of the world fresco al fresco lavish with
stars
o like Giotto or como las fresas heladas in the Spanish mode
the charm of that chiming, of those tones
to be the poem and lo shine within it while we are both melting
imperceptibly and
as I say diamond as they say parameter
o but I am not a business model manager template
temporary non essential being laid off or
fired at random
the charm of that chiming, of those tones
to be the poem and lo shine within it while we are both melting
imperceptibly and
as I say diamond as they say parameter
o but I am not a business model manager template
temporary non essential being laid off or
fired at random
I am the book of snow itself and carry the imprint
of rare ferns of the forgotten lanes
of the deluge when it came
the dropped stitches in amber
the rings on trees forecasting it all in evergreen;
the enameled bell recast o my soul
the crafting of the last blue watercolour wave
and the primrose starlings, silk screened.
and you said you said! I was not winged.
mary angela douglas 20 may 2020
NOTE ON THE POEM:
This is part of a series of poems I am writing as a kind of myth of the artist at the end of the world who keeps creating until their last breath.Which many artists, in every genre have done throughout human history.And in the worst of circumstances. For whom I have eternal admiration.
of rare ferns of the forgotten lanes
of the deluge when it came
the dropped stitches in amber
the rings on trees forecasting it all in evergreen;
the enameled bell recast o my soul
the crafting of the last blue watercolour wave
and the primrose starlings, silk screened.
and you said you said! I was not winged.
mary angela douglas 20 may 2020
NOTE ON THE POEM:
This is part of a series of poems I am writing as a kind of myth of the artist at the end of the world who keeps creating until their last breath.Which many artists, in every genre have done throughout human history.And in the worst of circumstances. For whom I have eternal admiration.
Monday, May 18, 2020
Bailing Out
perhaps in our souls sometimes we are bailing out all day
from strange aircraft
with tiny milkweed parachutes
for a soft landing in some blue grass perfumed dream meadow
we used to understand.
the soul has its own life and is capable of this.
and sometimes, it is necessary
to be in other realms
when the shattering news comes.
the telephone call you didn't expect.
a door slammed recklessly.
then the soul retreats with lilies in its hands
and quotes Shakespeare
or the 23rd Psalm
and finds the green rivers where the sheep are banked
and soft as clouds in their woolly slumber.
down deep there lives the dearest freshness Hopkins sang.
therefore in our wilderness we will find the pear cactus
and drink deep
removing the spines.
watching the clouds turn from azure
to magenta. this time.
mary angela douglas 18 may 2020
from strange aircraft
with tiny milkweed parachutes
for a soft landing in some blue grass perfumed dream meadow
we used to understand.
the soul has its own life and is capable of this.
and sometimes, it is necessary
to be in other realms
when the shattering news comes.
the telephone call you didn't expect.
a door slammed recklessly.
then the soul retreats with lilies in its hands
and quotes Shakespeare
or the 23rd Psalm
and finds the green rivers where the sheep are banked
and soft as clouds in their woolly slumber.
down deep there lives the dearest freshness Hopkins sang.
therefore in our wilderness we will find the pear cactus
and drink deep
removing the spines.
watching the clouds turn from azure
to magenta. this time.
mary angela douglas 18 may 2020
Saturday, May 16, 2020
Don't Be Telling The Story Straight
if you tell the story straight it will be over in two seconds.
we want the story to last the way some kids make candy last
the whole day
sucking on lemon drops as they play.
oh let the story be such an unwinding tale
it could go on for years; with cherry danish up to Here
put everything in it please.
the maraschinos and the cheese.
the mouse not caught and running off
with the moment's feast.
or if it's a Christmas mouse
don't leave the sugarplums out.
You know what to do.
put in a castle or two.
make mine pink and make yours
blue
and then we'll switch.
and speak of swans
sailing mirrored on a crystal pond.
we'll put in all the toys
they'll want to hear it too
if you were a toy wouldn't you want that too
put in some teacups and Cinderella's dress
the one you made yourself in sewing class
in dreams all of a pink voille, and in between, a lavender sheen.
put in a jeweled Alas! for the goose girl as she quails past
we want the story to last the way some kids make candy last
the whole day
sucking on lemon drops as they play.
oh let the story be such an unwinding tale
it could go on for years; with cherry danish up to Here
put everything in it please.
the maraschinos and the cheese.
the mouse not caught and running off
with the moment's feast.
or if it's a Christmas mouse
don't leave the sugarplums out.
You know what to do.
put in a castle or two.
make mine pink and make yours
blue
and then we'll switch.
and speak of swans
sailing mirrored on a crystal pond.
we'll put in all the toys
they'll want to hear it too
if you were a toy wouldn't you want that too
put in some teacups and Cinderella's dress
the one you made yourself in sewing class
in dreams all of a pink voille, and in between, a lavender sheen.
put in a jeweled Alas! for the goose girl as she quails past
and put in a vintage song and before too long
put in three bears and make them walk till four
so Goldilocks can get out the door
and off the lawn without a yawn
and speaking of that you better go along.
it's a school night now
put in three bears and make them walk till four
so Goldilocks can get out the door
and off the lawn without a yawn
and speaking of that you better go along.
it's a school night now
much too late for the purple cow
you know where you belong.
though there's time for one more song
to banish worry
scurry scurry
Click off the light.
good night good night.
mary angela douglas 18 april 2020;rev. 16 may 2020
you know where you belong.
though there's time for one more song
to banish worry
scurry scurry
Click off the light.
good night good night.
mary angela douglas 18 april 2020;rev. 16 may 2020
Friday, May 15, 2020
Snow Maps By NASA And Their Inversions
can such a thing be seen that to me is too
delicate to measure, the migrations of snow
oh but on whose wings the ruby glinting of
a stray particle of light,
the quality of the glazing I want to follow the snow map
in my dream but it keeps on melting singing of other things
than following
surging from the unexpected clouds stray angels in the picture
upside down
in perhaps a Midwestern air stream, little town or over French valleys
by now, coating the silver Loire.
making mischief in Moscow over Cyrillic domes
the many coloured
is it that far from home. or are snow maps
what children made in the ice barely crusted
what we made on winter saturdays powdered sugar dusted
only just now coming into view
and do those kingdoms show a propulsion toward Spring
the return of birds and birdsong the return of everything
we thought we had lost
before there were snow maps and the silver treasure
everywhere confounding us.
the sun warming, the rose leaves. the gardens
frozen in Time.
mary angela douglas 15 may 2020
The title of this poem is: "SNOW MAPS BY NASA AND THEIR INVERSIONS." it is a poem of pure imagination, not a scientific treatise. And if you think that science was developed without a poetic imagination you may know how to think, but you don't know how to dream. Yet you still could find out how to by coincidence or synchronicity or by sometimes, not listening to your teachers at all. Or to the voice in your head that tells you what other people expect you to say next in the conversation. Beautiful intrusions from other realms should be welcome I think , like the angels in scripture that we may entertain, as the Good Book Says: "unaware". This is a comment I wrote at the end of this poem I posted on a FB entry by NASA in reply to many people who didnt understand WHY I was talking poetically on a scientific page. ON MAY 15 2020.
delicate to measure, the migrations of snow
oh but on whose wings the ruby glinting of
a stray particle of light,
the quality of the glazing I want to follow the snow map
in my dream but it keeps on melting singing of other things
than following
surging from the unexpected clouds stray angels in the picture
upside down
in perhaps a Midwestern air stream, little town or over French valleys
by now, coating the silver Loire.
making mischief in Moscow over Cyrillic domes
the many coloured
is it that far from home. or are snow maps
what children made in the ice barely crusted
what we made on winter saturdays powdered sugar dusted
only just now coming into view
and do those kingdoms show a propulsion toward Spring
the return of birds and birdsong the return of everything
we thought we had lost
before there were snow maps and the silver treasure
everywhere confounding us.
the sun warming, the rose leaves. the gardens
frozen in Time.
mary angela douglas 15 may 2020
The title of this poem is: "SNOW MAPS BY NASA AND THEIR INVERSIONS." it is a poem of pure imagination, not a scientific treatise. And if you think that science was developed without a poetic imagination you may know how to think, but you don't know how to dream. Yet you still could find out how to by coincidence or synchronicity or by sometimes, not listening to your teachers at all. Or to the voice in your head that tells you what other people expect you to say next in the conversation. Beautiful intrusions from other realms should be welcome I think , like the angels in scripture that we may entertain, as the Good Book Says: "unaware". This is a comment I wrote at the end of this poem I posted on a FB entry by NASA in reply to many people who didnt understand WHY I was talking poetically on a scientific page. ON MAY 15 2020.
Thursday, May 14, 2020
Quixote And The Knight Of The Mirrors
quixote facing the knight of the mirrors...
I dreamed of him last night and the cover of the book
was midnight blue;the spine in lilies stamped..
the horizon was midnight
the way it kept raining forever
the way there could be no rest
the clouds were so opaque
even the Isles of the Blessed
even with the Spanish lanterns.
the lure of the towers;
the sweet valedictory hours.
ever the advance guard
Quixote cried so hard.
his tears were gold, como los siglos del oro
and molten, so that his skin cried out
I am the clown of nothing and they
have buried the sun.
his hands falling into petals
the petals falling away.
all that butterfly armour, drifting.
ya no sé como luchar;
how can I live this way
with every socket bruised
myself a bruise on the sky
and the sky, fallen into clay.
the heart like a mantle spread
his fractured shining shadow over the earth.
mary angela douglas 20 april 2020;rev. 14 may 2020
trans. siglos de oro: the centuries of gold, the golden ages;
ya no se como luchar (I don't know how to fight anymore).
I dreamed of him last night and the cover of the book
was midnight blue;the spine in lilies stamped..
the horizon was midnight
the way it kept raining forever
the way there could be no rest
the clouds were so opaque
even the Isles of the Blessed
even with the Spanish lanterns.
the lure of the towers;
the sweet valedictory hours.
ever the advance guard
Quixote cried so hard.
his tears were gold, como los siglos del oro
and molten, so that his skin cried out
I am the clown of nothing and they
have buried the sun.
his hands falling into petals
the petals falling away.
all that butterfly armour, drifting.
ya no sé como luchar;
how can I live this way
with every socket bruised
myself a bruise on the sky
and the sky, fallen into clay.
the heart like a mantle spread
his fractured shining shadow over the earth.
mary angela douglas 20 april 2020;rev. 14 may 2020
trans. siglos de oro: the centuries of gold, the golden ages;
ya no se como luchar (I don't know how to fight anymore).
In The Light From Far Away
these things have floated down to the children
pearl birds with paper wings
ancient riddles tied with string
rose petals. and the ships they came on
the lilac's whisper the pale green moody song
one opal tear
the moment wrapped in origami gold
pin wheels in beach ball colours
one apple orchard, ordered in miniature
with a small Queen
a silver slide among the blue white stars
the memory of who you are in the green hushed summer
crooning to them a weeping lullaby
in the middle of the day;
pink macaroons;and striped curtains.
the wish that it could always be
that way
like Christmas opening up
its own dear Present
in the Light from far away.
mary angela douglas 14 may 2020
pearl birds with paper wings
ancient riddles tied with string
rose petals. and the ships they came on
the lilac's whisper the pale green moody song
one opal tear
the moment wrapped in origami gold
pin wheels in beach ball colours
one apple orchard, ordered in miniature
with a small Queen
a silver slide among the blue white stars
the memory of who you are in the green hushed summer
crooning to them a weeping lullaby
in the middle of the day;
pink macaroons;and striped curtains.
the wish that it could always be
that way
like Christmas opening up
its own dear Present
in the Light from far away.
mary angela douglas 14 may 2020
Sunday, May 10, 2020
When You Were Awake
even in dreams now I'm not always free
being scolded by people I don't know
standing in my own living room
who are these dream scolders
how did i let them in
how can I get them to leave
I wake up and feel that I've done wrong
but I haven't done a thing
but sleep an interrupted sleep
were there loud noises
did the world end while I was sleeping
is it the next day
or the one I was still in
when I dozed off.
some times in life
you lose your place in the scheme of things
you don't recognize faces
-how can you-
you never met
when you were awake.
mary angela douglas 10 may 2020
being scolded by people I don't know
standing in my own living room
who are these dream scolders
how did i let them in
how can I get them to leave
I wake up and feel that I've done wrong
but I haven't done a thing
but sleep an interrupted sleep
were there loud noises
did the world end while I was sleeping
is it the next day
or the one I was still in
when I dozed off.
some times in life
you lose your place in the scheme of things
you don't recognize faces
-how can you-
you never met
when you were awake.
mary angela douglas 10 may 2020
Saturday, May 09, 2020
Rejoinder
you're not grieving fast enough
you havent heard the last of us
you're spinning out your wheels
you shouldnt wear low heels
or roses from the fields
entwined into your hair
-(I think I need some air)=,
we''ll tell you what to read
and everything you need
we just dropped in to see
if your front room is clean
dont bother make a fuss
dont you ever dust
we'll skip the cake today
too many pounds that way
we only came to say
you havent any sense
you havent saved a pence
we'd better come at three
your looking pale to me.
oh, that's all right she said
Im standing on my head.
mary angela douglas 9 may 2020
you havent heard the last of us
you're spinning out your wheels
you shouldnt wear low heels
or roses from the fields
entwined into your hair
-(I think I need some air)=,
we''ll tell you what to read
and everything you need
we just dropped in to see
if your front room is clean
dont bother make a fuss
dont you ever dust
we'll skip the cake today
too many pounds that way
we only came to say
you havent any sense
you havent saved a pence
we'd better come at three
your looking pale to me.
oh, that's all right she said
Im standing on my head.
mary angela douglas 9 may 2020
On Katharine Hepburn's Performance In Mary Of Scotland (1936) A Tribute
perhaps she was Duse, even then
budding into the role of a young queen or trying to
who would have noticed then a few from the Old School
when everything relied on the tit for the tat
witticisms in the back rooms.. so young to be crowned...
and then, to lose..
so waiting in the wings, she dreams she is Mary
and the dreaming seems to compensate for anything
irregular or like a bird half caught in the net of a scene
she knows the role what it could mean if she could branch farther
and she does so tremulously the camera almost weeps
but this is a clip joint hollywood that doesnt like the sentimental
waiting at the stage door calla lily face; they want: ready for it's
undermining the fourth wall
and swivels a hip (while Katharine is rapt)
impatient to make this show biz not the antique
curtain call where people rise from theatre seats transformed
for Katharine wanting it all to be so beautiful
as if Bernhardt rose
budding into the role of a young queen or trying to
who would have noticed then a few from the Old School
when everything relied on the tit for the tat
witticisms in the back rooms.. so young to be crowned...
and then, to lose..
so waiting in the wings, she dreams she is Mary
and the dreaming seems to compensate for anything
irregular or like a bird half caught in the net of a scene
she knows the role what it could mean if she could branch farther
out on untried wings, brittle
imaginings
and she does so tremulously the camera almost weeps
the key light grieves in flickering cadences
but this is a clip joint hollywood that doesnt like the sentimental
anymore and pictures it fading
waiting at the stage door calla lily face; they want: ready for it's
big break certainly on the make what
wants to be modern pacing the city filled with asides
that will not see Katharine as the bride of time most rare
she envisions, she longs to be
nor Mary either though the images are there;the dear ghosts too
she longs to demonstrate her face can turn to snow to gestures
from so long ago
even if she could and even if she did
the audience wouldnt have understood
the directors would have been irritated
she is oblivious to that her face falters her eyes
and for a moment the two faces merge
both in the tower both tres sweet before dark doom
how visible how with so much pearl her soul is laden now
bent to the light and inexplicably radiant
perhaps there are lines unheard
rehearsed with angels;they certainly are cut
while the footlights are too jazzy
the raz mah taz in the next room taps its toe shoes underneath it
that will not see Katharine as the bride of time most rare
she envisions, she longs to be
nor Mary either though the images are there;the dear ghosts too
she longs to demonstrate her face can turn to snow to gestures
from so long ago
even if she could and even if she did
the audience wouldnt have understood
the directors would have been irritated
she is oblivious to that her face falters her eyes
and for a moment the two faces merge
both in the tower both tres sweet before dark doom
how visible how with so much pearl her soul is laden now
bent to the light and inexplicably radiant
perhaps there are lines unheard
rehearsed with angels;they certainly are cut
while the footlights are too jazzy
the raz mah taz in the next room taps its toe shoes underneath it
all bored and chewing gum
undermining the fourth wall
and swivels a hip (while Katharine is rapt)
impatient to make this show biz not the antique
curtain call where people rise from theatre seats transformed
for Katharine wanting it all to be so beautiful
as if Bernhardt rose
and rose again; or, Hepburn on her own
to the classic metier of the fate set out
set in stone with no more recourse oh Mary, Mary
to the classic metier of the fate set out
set in stone with no more recourse oh Mary, Mary
losing the throne and love and life and Spring
behind the film another scene is there pristine
of Katharine striving with the air.the tempo of the time
Katharine subsumed in Mary most tragically composed
Katharine Hepburn prescient and so beyond the role now
no critic will comprehend;such transfiguration was there
such -capacity
from the very start though the coda is played unevenly
because they despise such sublimity; such art;
they are jaded;
the heart torn to achieve such ends
even in a nascent form
behind the film another scene is there pristine
of Katharine striving with the air.the tempo of the time
Katharine subsumed in Mary most tragically composed
Katharine Hepburn prescient and so beyond the role now
no critic will comprehend;such transfiguration was there
such -capacity
from the very start though the coda is played unevenly
because they despise such sublimity; such art;
they are jaded;
the heart torn to achieve such ends
even in a nascent form
disgusts them.
mary angela douglas 9 may 2020a
mary angela douglas 9 may 2020a
Just The Moon When It Rises
what if there were poetry with no prizes
just the moon when it rises
no critical surmises
just the birds, singing
just the birds singing and the leaves drifting
just the stars shining far out on their own
just the breath and the sudden intake,
all your rowing,
going home.
just the word softly spoken
into a light no one can see
just the trip out on a limb
only the hidden mystery
just the song without imposing
just the play without it closing
fine embroidery out at sea
wave to wave
and free as free
just the feeling;
not the fee.
mary angela douglas 9 may 2020
just the moon when it rises
no critical surmises
just the birds, singing
just the birds singing and the leaves drifting
just the stars shining far out on their own
just the breath and the sudden intake,
all your rowing,
going home.
just the word softly spoken
into a light no one can see
just the trip out on a limb
only the hidden mystery
just the song without imposing
just the play without it closing
fine embroidery out at sea
wave to wave
and free as free
just the feeling;
not the fee.
mary angela douglas 9 may 2020
Friday, May 08, 2020
For Sidney Lanier
to Sidney Lanier for his poem The Marshes of Glynn
the rose refractions of this stained glass hour
fall about the grass in my tree cathedral
in the woods where in my mind
I always pray. in the midst of pines
in the later blue of the day
and with the twilight bells.
there in the long shadows of the moss green aisles
I lift my heart as once did Lanier in the Marshes of Glynn
and i seem to see him there
and his prayer is heavy with yellow stars
with yellow stars and the exaltations
of the marshes of glynn
and I in the scent of the pines remember everything
I ever heard have ever read of beauty.
beauty rarified in the stained glass hour
and now the stain of iris blue the purple of the evening hour
has hastened.
and I must haste too
though I dont know when from all these reveries
and the sound, the sounds of the marshes of glynn.
the birds arising.
mary angela douglas 8 may 2020
the rose refractions of this stained glass hour
fall about the grass in my tree cathedral
in the woods where in my mind
I always pray. in the midst of pines
in the later blue of the day
and with the twilight bells.
there in the long shadows of the moss green aisles
I lift my heart as once did Lanier in the Marshes of Glynn
and i seem to see him there
and his prayer is heavy with yellow stars
with yellow stars and the exaltations
of the marshes of glynn
and I in the scent of the pines remember everything
I ever heard have ever read of beauty.
beauty rarified in the stained glass hour
and now the stain of iris blue the purple of the evening hour
has hastened.
and I must haste too
though I dont know when from all these reveries
and the sound, the sounds of the marshes of glynn.
the birds arising.
mary angela douglas 8 may 2020
Thursday, May 07, 2020
The Little Clues
sometimes you don't pick up on the little clues
even though you watch the news
the sky darkening in the middle of the day
the tunnel of silence in birdsong
you keep moving right along
engaged in small tasks at home
the washline's out
and it's coated with rime
the bird's won't stay
not even with lime
the leaves have packed their bags at nine
and even the stars.
and you're at home without a car.
here you are then at the adding machine
keeping count of all you had seen
even the fleeting warnings in dreams
the sun peeled like an orange
from way back
the train veering off the blue track
the inside mechanism of the clock
that ticks when it's supposed to tock
and all that you held dear
vanishing up to here,
the last front porch.
and you the former and you the almost scorched
with nothing left to
compare yourself to.
in a jeweled whirlwind
hidden hidden in God.
mary angela douglas 7 may 2020
even though you watch the news
the sky darkening in the middle of the day
the tunnel of silence in birdsong
you keep moving right along
engaged in small tasks at home
the washline's out
and it's coated with rime
the bird's won't stay
not even with lime
the leaves have packed their bags at nine
and even the stars.
and you're at home without a car.
here you are then at the adding machine
keeping count of all you had seen
even the fleeting warnings in dreams
the sun peeled like an orange
from way back
the train veering off the blue track
the inside mechanism of the clock
that ticks when it's supposed to tock
and all that you held dear
vanishing up to here,
the last front porch.
and you the former and you the almost scorched
with nothing left to
compare yourself to.
in a jeweled whirlwind
hidden hidden in God.
mary angela douglas 7 may 2020
Mermaid:While Being Schooled On Land
(to Hans Christian Andersen)
to live part mermaid always dreaming of the sea
even while being schooled on land
how could she make her sisters understand
and when at night in agony the warm salt water
gushed from her veins there was no one to see.
she dreamed of coral of the way the green light filtered
down when she was with her parents thinking of surfaces
of the upwards light and everything azure.
now she swims on land and suffers for it
and sheds scaly tears under no opal moonlight at all.
what can she reveal. her habitat is small
and likely to become stranger
to live part mermaid always dreaming of the sea
even while being schooled on land
how could she make her sisters understand
and when at night in agony the warm salt water
gushed from her veins there was no one to see.
she dreamed of coral of the way the green light filtered
down when she was with her parents thinking of surfaces
of the upwards light and everything azure.
now she swims on land and suffers for it
and sheds scaly tears under no opal moonlight at all.
what can she reveal. her habitat is small
and likely to become stranger
the seahorse memories crowding in
and the rainbow fins.
something in her aches
towards becoming a soul
mary angela douglas 7 may 2020
and the rainbow fins.
something in her aches
towards becoming a soul
mary angela douglas 7 may 2020
I Can Be
you're going to need a shoehorn for that slipper
I heard a passerby exclaim
why there was always someone standing around
like a one person greek chorus interfering band
I dont know. Dear God. and with cymbals.
i dont know what the odds for it even are.
i lock my door. my golden key in hand.
they're still out there in the hallway;
self appointed in the land.
you're doing it wrong
whatever it is.
you plop the tablets fizz fizz fizz
it doesn't help.
so I go somewhere in my lovely clouded mind
and there I find
somewhere a place where no one says anything.
where its quiet as after a snowfall.
and the glaze is over it all.
the sky is dreaming again.
the leaves coated with ice
the roads of the empire all closed.
and I can think my thoughts and let them grow
like rosebuds into a gentle wind.
and I can be
without the tanks rolling in.
mary angela douglas 7 may 2020
I heard a passerby exclaim
why there was always someone standing around
like a one person greek chorus interfering band
I dont know. Dear God. and with cymbals.
i dont know what the odds for it even are.
i lock my door. my golden key in hand.
they're still out there in the hallway;
self appointed in the land.
you're doing it wrong
whatever it is.
you plop the tablets fizz fizz fizz
it doesn't help.
so I go somewhere in my lovely clouded mind
and there I find
somewhere a place where no one says anything.
where its quiet as after a snowfall.
and the glaze is over it all.
the sky is dreaming again.
the leaves coated with ice
the roads of the empire all closed.
and I can think my thoughts and let them grow
like rosebuds into a gentle wind.
and I can be
without the tanks rolling in.
mary angela douglas 7 may 2020
Wednesday, May 06, 2020
Only You Should Be Adored
only you should be adored
God of all that we implore
only you are.
keep us from the hidden traps
all the thises and the thats
all the misses near or far
mistaking wishes
shooting stars.
keep our sweet horizon still
only on your holy will
fervent in our one intent
to be true to all You've lent.
to believe you at the core
Holy God whom we adore.
mary angela douglas 6 may 2020
God of all that we implore
only you are.
keep us from the hidden traps
all the thises and the thats
all the misses near or far
mistaking wishes
shooting stars.
keep our sweet horizon still
only on your holy will
fervent in our one intent
to be true to all You've lent.
to believe you at the core
Holy God whom we adore.
mary angela douglas 6 may 2020
Set It In Concrete Or Under The Glowing Sun
leaving behind the pretense at breath
that keeps us cowed in the dubious cubicles
that keeps us filing S is for Sun
forgetting that there really is one.
there is a sun that flares
and rays a glowing medallion
all day long as if its shining
were eternal song
while we take time for lunch
then dash like moles
semi home again.
of all things most pitiful under the sun
it is you who barely remember the earth is green
who fester in concrete
waiting to be seen
as the most productive
the most productive
the most productive
mary angela douglas 6 may 2020
that keeps us cowed in the dubious cubicles
that keeps us filing S is for Sun
forgetting that there really is one.
there is a sun that flares
and rays a glowing medallion
all day long as if its shining
were eternal song
while we take time for lunch
then dash like moles
semi home again.
of all things most pitiful under the sun
it is you who barely remember the earth is green
who fester in concrete
waiting to be seen
as the most productive
the most productive
the most productive
mary angela douglas 6 may 2020
Tuesday, May 05, 2020
Let It Be Song
let the buzzards depart
let them careen over hell
not this place in blues and greens
we had come to love so well
let them fly and let them die
who come to claim us circling
doggedly
before we have arisen
Lord God Lord God
let your livingness be seen
let every cell burst into a lily
with the fragrance beyond dreams
let every tear burst into a stream
of balm of the balm of gilead
and every note that You redeem,
let it be Song.
mary angela douglas 6 may 2020
let them careen over hell
not this place in blues and greens
we had come to love so well
let them fly and let them die
who come to claim us circling
doggedly
before we have arisen
Lord God Lord God
let your livingness be seen
let every cell burst into a lily
with the fragrance beyond dreams
let every tear burst into a stream
of balm of the balm of gilead
and every note that You redeem,
let it be Song.
mary angela douglas 6 may 2020
Leaving Small Kingdoms
leaving small kingdoms
where the gossip ripens along with the peaches
while you work in root cellars
while others hit the beaches
while you dream your winter dreams
and come apart at all the seams
and sow your tickets underground
and leave their worlds without a sound
maybe along some country road where
the skies are bursting with pomegranate stars and galaxies
you will make peace with your God
apart from all these anomalies
and remember in a fading hour
that once you too were flowers, earth
birdsong soaring above it all.
mary angela douglas 5 may 2020
where the gossip ripens along with the peaches
while you work in root cellars
while others hit the beaches
while you dream your winter dreams
and come apart at all the seams
and sow your tickets underground
and leave their worlds without a sound
maybe along some country road where
the skies are bursting with pomegranate stars and galaxies
you will make peace with your God
apart from all these anomalies
and remember in a fading hour
that once you too were flowers, earth
birdsong soaring above it all.
mary angela douglas 5 may 2020
Monday, May 04, 2020
Not Stepping In The Same River Twice
how odd when revisiting
the places that you knew
to find so unexpectedly
they don't remember you
as if in leaving
the space for you had closed
and others wandered in your place
and others wore your clothes
it's like no dent in water
a former person said
whenever you walk out the door
it's closing on your head
seamless and so silver the water shows no change
it's you that deep inside your mind
yourself must rearrange.
mary angela douglas 5 may 2020
the places that you knew
to find so unexpectedly
they don't remember you
as if in leaving
the space for you had closed
and others wandered in your place
and others wore your clothes
it's like no dent in water
a former person said
whenever you walk out the door
it's closing on your head
seamless and so silver the water shows no change
it's you that deep inside your mind
yourself must rearrange.
mary angela douglas 5 may 2020
Calling The Game
the game was called because of rain
the monsoons of the weather vain
the intellects that pare it down
so words are finally, only sound
and rip the heart from its own ground
in or out of season
give me one good reason why those
who reign need not apply
need never ever seem to show
the source of anything they know
but let it slide while on we go
the extras in their picture show
who vanish when the curtains close
oh banish those that tell us so.
mary angela douglas 4 may 2020;rev.6 june 2020
the monsoons of the weather vain
the intellects that pare it down
so words are finally, only sound
and rip the heart from its own ground
in or out of season
give me one good reason why those
who reign need not apply
need never ever seem to show
the source of anything they know
but let it slide while on we go
the extras in their picture show
who vanish when the curtains close
oh banish those that tell us so.
mary angela douglas 4 may 2020;rev.6 june 2020
Sunday, May 03, 2020
Poetry, My Little Ships
of all my little ships silver floating on the water
the ones at sunset ruby tipped
the ones merry in the sea green foam
the one I want most is the one edged in violet
edged in violet and singing to itself
I know I know God floats upon the waters with me
and shapes my notes my notes
my flouted arrangements on the brink
of dreams my bouquets
descending and ascending the waves
regardless of who finds them
farther downstream beyond the ebb and flow
or receives them or receives them not
at the docks of gold.
mary angela douglas 3 may 2020;6 june 2020
the ones at sunset ruby tipped
the ones merry in the sea green foam
the one I want most is the one edged in violet
edged in violet and singing to itself
I know I know God floats upon the waters with me
and shapes my notes my notes
my flouted arrangements on the brink
of dreams my bouquets
descending and ascending the waves
regardless of who finds them
farther downstream beyond the ebb and flow
or receives them or receives them not
at the docks of gold.
mary angela douglas 3 may 2020;6 june 2020
Saturday, May 02, 2020
The Magician At The Close Of Day
somewhere I have never traveled gladly beyond any experience
e.e. cummings
should I walk on perennial stilts to join the circus
keep creaming the new moons into quarters that shine
draw scarves out of thin air and being the many coloured
Valentine
in my dream that closes... or it shuts like cummings'
poem
on the somewhere the rose has never been seen
that delicate, that apprehending as though it were made
of snows. evanescence is a tough act to follow.
when it is we ourselves slipping in and out of clouds
not only the copper moon
will I sleep till noon. will I understand again the language of
birds
if I am careful never to say a bruising word or will my heart
suddenly burst into paper flowers or fly into the furnace
and burn for hours like the tin soldier and the ballerina
flung by unexpected winds into the forevers
how can I write the arc of the story when it's me
and I know the egg timer's set and there's isnt time to say
everything
one feels when the branches are lacework against the sky
the crossstitch of the violets and of the Spring moon
embroidered embroidered on an empty loom.
mary angela douglas 2 may 2020
e.e. cummings
should I walk on perennial stilts to join the circus
keep creaming the new moons into quarters that shine
draw scarves out of thin air and being the many coloured
Valentine
in my dream that closes... or it shuts like cummings'
poem
on the somewhere the rose has never been seen
that delicate, that apprehending as though it were made
of snows. evanescence is a tough act to follow.
when it is we ourselves slipping in and out of clouds
not only the copper moon
will I sleep till noon. will I understand again the language of
birds
if I am careful never to say a bruising word or will my heart
suddenly burst into paper flowers or fly into the furnace
and burn for hours like the tin soldier and the ballerina
flung by unexpected winds into the forevers
how can I write the arc of the story when it's me
and I know the egg timer's set and there's isnt time to say
everything
one feels when the branches are lacework against the sky
the crossstitch of the violets and of the Spring moon
embroidered embroidered on an empty loom.
mary angela douglas 2 may 2020
The Lease I Did Not Sign
to be subservient
to let you knock me down like a small clown doll
to hide in corners
to hold my tongue when there is wrong
and not to believe in my own song
I never signed these rights away
i have never agreed to be your slave
whoever you are wherever you may be now
I bow only to God
though I DO wish you well.
I wish you may know God strew our path with flowers
but the Enemy doesnt will us to know
that it was for us God chose these greens and blues
the scent of the year brand new oh April passing into May
I will not deny You I will not say that
Beauty does not call us forever along the way
though I lose title and deed
to everything the landlords promised
from the first day.
mary angela douglas 2 may 2020
to let you knock me down like a small clown doll
to hide in corners
to hold my tongue when there is wrong
and not to believe in my own song
I never signed these rights away
i have never agreed to be your slave
whoever you are wherever you may be now
I bow only to God
though I DO wish you well.
I wish you may know God strew our path with flowers
but the Enemy doesnt will us to know
that it was for us God chose these greens and blues
the scent of the year brand new oh April passing into May
I will not deny You I will not say that
Beauty does not call us forever along the way
though I lose title and deed
to everything the landlords promised
from the first day.
mary angela douglas 2 may 2020
Friday, May 01, 2020
No One Knows
when do we speak of what is real
when every company has its spiel
when all that's said is said to win
another first place ribbon again
another seat in the elegant chamber
another title out of danger
salaried to the hilt.
oh I wish things to be real as silt
for us to talk of days to come
when we have time beneath the sun
to watch the skies we used to know
to watch the fading sunset glow
to be alive in every wind
and speak to each as to a friend
and not for hidden advantage.
but now we speak yet we dont say
a single thing that's ours to say
but say whats needed just to sell
and so deprive the living well
the fountain that forever flows
within us all that no one knows.
mary angela douglas 1 may 2020
when every company has its spiel
when all that's said is said to win
another first place ribbon again
another seat in the elegant chamber
another title out of danger
salaried to the hilt.
oh I wish things to be real as silt
for us to talk of days to come
when we have time beneath the sun
to watch the skies we used to know
to watch the fading sunset glow
to be alive in every wind
and speak to each as to a friend
and not for hidden advantage.
but now we speak yet we dont say
a single thing that's ours to say
but say whats needed just to sell
and so deprive the living well
the fountain that forever flows
within us all that no one knows.
mary angela douglas 1 may 2020
Plagiarizing The Pom Poms
down to the last rag doll rag and bone
my God we have been used by those
with side-winding smiles by those who say
we'll see you in a while but who mean never
as they drop off the cliff with everything they could lift from you
with an oh I'll take that off of your hands
or I'll raise my hand with the answer you already gave
but the teacher couldn't hear you
and borrow your words your finery and not use quotes as if that were
their prerogative and the kit catty cat burglar game made bona fide
right in front of you while they bask in a ripped off glow
and bushel basket strangle your small flame
as they ascend ascend to spiral staircase fame
flinging a stolen glance from the shoulder a rhinestone shawl
but the oddest thing of all is the staircase runs out
and they haven't even got a shout for help,
they could call their own.
mary angela douglas 1 may 2020
my God we have been used by those
with side-winding smiles by those who say
we'll see you in a while but who mean never
as they drop off the cliff with everything they could lift from you
with an oh I'll take that off of your hands
or I'll raise my hand with the answer you already gave
but the teacher couldn't hear you
and borrow your words your finery and not use quotes as if that were
their prerogative and the kit catty cat burglar game made bona fide
right in front of you while they bask in a ripped off glow
and bushel basket strangle your small flame
as they ascend ascend to spiral staircase fame
flinging a stolen glance from the shoulder a rhinestone shawl
but the oddest thing of all is the staircase runs out
and they haven't even got a shout for help,
they could call their own.
mary angela douglas 1 may 2020
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