Mary Angela Douglas


Mary Angela Douglas Poems

961. Brushstrokes Of Snow On The Silentist Sky 4/5/2016
962. Cherry Trumpets 4/6/2016
963. I Bless The Little Cobbling Cells That Mend My Wounds 4/6/2016
964. O Won't You Remember The Popsickle Days 4/6/2016
965. To Certain Persons, Poets Who Use Christ As A Fashion Accessory Or Throw-Away Cultural Aside 4/7/2016
966. I Remember A Tv Program Called Queen For A Day 4/7/2016
967. But The Snows... 4/7/2016
968. Thread 4/8/2016
969. Is Sean Hannity Irish American Or What 4/8/2016
970. April In Fairy Tale Weather 4/8/2016
971. Maybe I Have Invisible Friends 4/9/2016
972. When The Swans Turned Home 2/7/2015
973. Where Are The Poems Embroidered With The Moon 2/7/2015
974. The Starlight Leaves No Trace On Them I Think 2/7/2015
975. Cinderella, Early Days Still 4/9/2016
976. Witnesses 4/11/2016
977. Will There Be A Cottage There 4/11/2016
978. You Imagine Yourself On Dry Land Sometimes 4/11/2016
979. Could We Help It That We Thought 4/11/2016
980. This Is My Confession To The Roses 4/12/2016
981. We Never Did 4/12/2016
982. The Kingdom Of Left Behind 4/12/2016
983. Up Close 4/15/2016
984. The Singular Dream Of The Elephant Man 4/15/2016
985. In The Studio Of The Departing Aviator 4/16/2016
986. Saturday Praised 4/16/2016
987. Deep In Our Enchantments 4/16/2016
988. I Am Going Away Where Words Are Not Arguments 4/17/2016
989. Roses, Roses, Roses 4/19/2016
990. Old Alphabets Haunt My Dreams 4/19/2016
991. Could There Have Been A Day In Ancient Greece 4/20/2016
992. Promised 4/21/2016
993. The Many Coloured Horse 4/21/2016
994. To My Sister From The Pale Blue Toyroom 4/21/2016
995. The Xylophone Remembrances 4/25/2016
996. Commencement 4/25/2016
997. Dear God Lift The Lid Off The Box I Am In 4/25/2016
998. Gingerbread With Silver Beaded Buttons 4/25/2016
999. Something Will Be Lost 4/25/2016
1000. Big Rock Redux 4/25/2016

Comments about Mary Angela Douglas

  • Ann Buermann Wass (7/6/2018 5:47:00 AM)

    Was thinking about you recently and wondering if I could find you. Remember our days at Fontbonne together?

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  • 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.

  • Is It Poetry James Mclain Is It Poetry James Mclain (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

You Were That Child

you wanted a rose red sign from God
His signature rose
so many times

on the way home or to and fro or the mist clearing just
as you hit the service road to hike to the early morning
bus with that chill air still nightfall everywhere

Orion visible, your leading star.

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