Mary Angela Douglas Poems

winged music starts awake in a clouded chamber
at the turning of the rose stair in a dream
we came to life or wished we could and
...

[on learning to read...]

on fine papers perhaps, tiny rosebuds of gold foil
in the borderlands beyond the words=
...

could valentine cut outs folded end to end and paper chained
fill the chambers where the plans are laid?
I want to live in a Kingdom like that she declared
...

maybe I should have regretted
almost treading on your shadow;
removing one charm from the bracelet of the sun:
...

oh ghosts of my music
when will we depart
I will not leave without you.
...

and could we ever be dressed in the sunset foils
of islands, crinkled with shining?
where it rains colours
...

the rose-red sash at sunset
at your window
is glazing now with rain
...

the last Christmas train has left the station.
beatitude is drifting with the sun.
all things have gathered flight
for the last poets rising
...

my faberge egg is hatching little stars,
cut crystal-
whole cherry orchards unrazed
...

dry sticks in the wind,
how have they made this from your music?
I can't pretend to like them for it.
...