Mary Angela Douglas


Mary Angela Douglas Poems

561. I Remember The Pear Tree 2/27/2016
562. Angels If They Are Good Are Transparent 2/27/2016
563. Did You Say Something 2/27/2016
564. To The Person Of Large Heart Reading The Small Poem 2/27/2016
565. I Like Icicle Music, Candy Cane Cold 2/27/2016
566. If I Catch The Hem Of My Dress On Your Clouds 2/27/2016
567. I Saw Clouds Like Words And They Were Filled With Light 2/27/2016
568. All Lives Are Unfinished She Said 2/27/2016
569. Coming Out Of The Spell, Gladly 2/27/2016
570. Who Could Be Anything Then 2/28/2016
571. Minimalism Explained 2/29/2016
572. Cloak Of Invisibility Arrives: Populace Doesn't Notice 2/29/2016
573. Glasstown But Not The Brontes 2/29/2016
574. Winter Accolade (To God) 2/29/2016
575. The Lost Boys Found 2/29/2016
576. Somebody's Got To Say This 2/29/2016
577. It Won't Be My Fault 2/29/2016
578. Diversionary Angels Out At Night, The Moon Behind Clouds 2/29/2016
579. On Leap Day I Thought About The Life Of Colours 2/29/2016
580. They Say Even Molecules Change Their Behavior 2/29/2016
581. Sometime, I'd Like To 2/29/2016
582. The Dancer You Wish You Were (She Was) 2/29/2016
583. Impermanent Pressed My Snow Clouds Fold 2/29/2016
584. Holy Mary Mother Of The Sequined Light 2/29/2016
585. Perfumes Smiled From The Flowers 2/29/2016
586. Screenplay For The Walrus (O.K., The Carpenter Too) 2/29/2016
587. When You've Had Enough Of The Blah Blah Blah 2/29/2016
588. Diy Instant Christmas Snow 2/29/2016
589. Other People's Horses Stream Milk White 2/29/2016
590. Poetry Is Not A Contest 2/29/2016
591. In The Forest Of News I Pray 2/29/2016
592. My Poor Poems Or Yours 2/29/2016
593. Play Money Christmas And More 2/29/2016
594. Foresighted Christmas Too Late For The Time Machine 2/29/2016
595. Another Alicean Song 2/29/2016
596. Think Of A Small A Lilac Cloud 2/29/2016
597. Clavier Dream 3/1/2016
598. The Wind Was Writing 'the Leaves, The Leaves' 3/1/2016
599. A Diary On The Underside Of Light 3/1/2016
600. Beautiful In The Post World To God Above 3/1/2016

Comments about Mary Angela Douglas

  • Prabhata Kumar Sahoo Prabhata Kumar Sahoo (5/8/2017 11:54:00 PM)

    I love your poet'page.I am tempted to read more about your works after going thru a few.

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  • James Mclain Is It Poetry James Mclain Is It Poetry (11/15/2016 10:55:00 AM)

    Few have the honesty
    As do you
    To have like you the truth
    As you speak in your
    Biography .. James

  • Mary Angela Douglas Mary Angela Douglas (7/2/2016 4:10:00 PM)

    Thank you for your kind comment Odiete. I believe that poetry and being a poet is from God. If there is any vastness in my poems it comes from my being happy to think about the vastness of God. We are all vast in Him I like to think too. My versatility comes from having a scattered, butterfly like brain that likes to flit from flower to flower in terms of topics to think about (why I always had trouble with writing research papers in school at the last minute; not from procrastination, just from liking too much to research and keep finding things out without drawing conclusions. Heaven will be at least in part, for me, I think, the joy of NEVER AGAIN HAVING TO DRAW CONCLUS9ONS! God bless you a abundantly in your continuing (and already eternal) life as a poet. Thank You. Mary Angela Douglas

  • Ovi-enita Odiete Ovi-enita Odiete (7/2/2016 3:44:00 PM)

    You are such a Vast, Versatile and talented Poetess.....

Best Poem of Mary Angela Douglas

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
and the clouds drifted over mindless borders

and were crucified.
the names of things, the orange and the lemon
the midnight zither and the bluebird plans

the tissue paper birthdays at a secret command
all disappeared, their ribbons curling.
all but the names we taught our children to revere and

year past year,
never to split the silver from the rains,
to refrain from negating the Soul.

and ever to stow the...

Read the full of The Names Of Things

Blake

to William Blake

I saw you walking
the hills of green,
angels on either side of you, conversing

and cherry-bought bells resounding.
in the dove-sought skies such flame-tinged
clouds appearing:

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