Mary Angela Douglas
Biography of Mary Angela Douglas
[PLEASE NOTE: All my poems are U.S. Copyrighted by date indicated at the bottom of the poem and all world-wide rights are reserved, including the right of translation into any language specifically to each and every poem and only to and for Mary Angela Douglas.]
I love poetry past, present, and future.
I especially love this website becomes it deeply welcomes all poets and I am very happy to be welcomed here.
I have deep respect for everyone writing here. May you never stop writing poetry. It is one of the finest things that can be done in life, but then, you alredy know that, don't you?
May your joy in poetry and your poems, every blessed word, live forever, as it is also, your mind, your heart, your soul shining out to others.
- This Strange And Transient Hour -new-
- Waiting For The News To Come -new-
- The Ash Tree Is Weeping I Said To My God -new-
- Winter Song From The Snow Queen -new-
- Poem To Sharon, Through The Looking Glas... -new-
- On Saint Saens "Aquarium" From... -new-
- The Fairy Tale Not In The Corrected Edit...
- In October, Commemorating Ray (For Ray B...
- Here's To The Candy Corn!
- John Keats Between, What Is Written, Wha...
- On The Princess Aurora, Certain Lies
- Drifting Into God
- Who Wouldn't Have Wanted
- The Dreaming Room
Mary Angela Douglas Poems
The Names Of Things
to Ray Bradbury, looking back, or forward the names of things we held in our heart when alphabets foundered and worlds came apart
we make useful things: things that won't shatter. we make useful things, things that Matter. think of a wave on the sea, I said;
song itself came to the back stairs of the castle in a drenching rain like the princess in old fairy stories, refrains
A Sparkling Ensued
to my sister, Sharon, and all her glistening music go deeper into the woods soothed my pages,
Last Minute Christmas Eve 1964
last minute drugstore gifts are best for pure excitement! someone's sure to want just one more box of chocolate covered cherries-
I Wrote On A Page Of Light
I wrote on a page of light; it vanished. then there was night.
And This Is Music
[to God our Father] this is to the One who caused, who causes music to arise though He is denied
In The Shoemaker's Shop
[once more, to The Brothers Grimm] how marvelous it seemed to you then the cobbler asleep at his bench
True Reading Is First Reading
true reading is first reading; lullaby gold you've lost more than you know
standing before the space where poems may come you dodge the thrift of
was it an impossible thing: a katydid green on a snowy canvas; the snow, crumbling in your hands?
We Are All Unlikely People
we are all unlikely people she half thought turning over the rain soaked pebbles in the road to reveal, she thought
COMMITTEE now you will be afraid, the committee droned underneath my dream not even out from
My Lost Unicorn Wandered Far
to poetry my lost unicorn wandered far from the tattered tapestry, unseen
Praising The Book People
'the faint whisper of a turned page'
-Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451
would you sell your heart's desire
would you chop it up for
firewood in the bitter cold
or throw it over the bridge,
sparking futile distances,