Mary Angela Douglas Poems

[to the immortal voice of Ethel Barrymore-
to all the outriders of our language]
...

He may be filled with Light with birds with maytimes.
ultra violets, He may be tender as sudden showers
hinting at snows before they fall and
...

to John Keats


you were in love with the opal-branching skies,
...

it's threading the point too finely
chided the godmother
tapping a lilac toe shoe on the pavement
...

the cream of words that frothed the rim of
poetry gone by poured into the sleeping village overnight,
the one semicircling the Christmas boughs,
...

whose lacework once again is gathered forming
in the pewter skies erasing time making of trees
a freezing of light and the child heard 'chimes'
...

'the poetry of earth is never dead.'
-John Keats

(for my mother Mary Adalyn Young-Douglas)
...

[Thumbelina's Song]

transcribing these doll languages
I found a little freedom:
...

[for Gabrielle-Suzanne de Villeneuve and
Jean-Marie Leprince de Beaumont in gratitude
for a deeply beautiful fairy tale, much misunderstood-except by Cocteau! ]
...

pink candles flare on a rose decked cake
how quickly you must wish so the buttercream
roses won't taste like wax.
...