Mary Angela Douglas Poems

the black-eyed Susans she brought with her
meant for her auntie wilted by the time
she got to Oz.
...

wearing organza to the made up parties,
did the ghosts startle us all summer?
coming back across dim fields they
...

oh that the clear-eyed singers would return
I heard them sigh
but I knew then as I know now
...

[my Father's house, on Sunday afternoons...]

then we hand coloured the stars on Sunday afternoons
in our Spring colouring books
...

everybody's razzle dazzle
walking in the sunshine God made
admiring the flowers;
...

how the embroidered shadows fled
before we knew;
casting our jacks on the summer porches
...

for e.e. cummings

I am a person making typos in my sleep
on a dream typewriter (shift key) T(unshift)
...

the sky was so thick with stars
it could have been star custard
someone remarked
...

I'm not a wren I'm a nightgingale she wept
into the rains where this was invisible
and if it's all the same to you
...

lives of the saints on a rusty hinge I dreamed
the Door having been flung open in the winds
and the liveried voice floated over heavy as lead
...