Mary Angela Douglas


Mary Angela Douglas Poems

1241. We Build On A Flood (But Not Forever) 4/12/2017
1242. Before The Voyage 4/15/2017
1243. I Am Certain That Jesus Is Not That 4/15/2017
1244. It's Sure To Come True 4/15/2017
1245. The Death Of Debussy Or Of Ravel 4/16/2017
1246. Poverty Is A Wound That Cannot Heal 4/20/2017
1247. Let Us Consider The History Of The Rails 4/22/2017
1248. Now We Are Crossing The Pink Part Of The Map 4/22/2017
1249. The Kingdom Of The Cults 4/24/2017
1250. Saints Of Words Were These 4/26/2017
1251. Let Us Become The Hidden Things In The Picture 4/28/2017
1252. Our Red And Green Houses Bloomed 5/6/2017
1253. Arriving On The Same Day You Are Going 5/8/2017
1254. Chivalry Is Not Dead Came Over The Rattling Wires 5/9/2017
1255. I Think Of Books Like A River Through The World 5/13/2017
1256. The Haunting Of Roses, Of Gardenias In The Side Yard 5/15/2017
1257. The Poets Neglected Who Gave Their Lives For Words 5/16/2017
1258. I Wanted To Say Things With Cherries On Top 5/18/2017
1259. I Am A Number Or A Series Of Numbers 5/21/2017
1260. I Wanted To Dream Of The Life Of Clouds 5/22/2017
1261. Stepping Onto The Last Continent 6/6/2017
1262. Cherry Cupboards 6/6/2017
1263. We Savor Green Apple Candies 6/6/2017
1264. Far To Go 6/6/2017
1265. Don't Blow It, Whispered The Wish Fairy 6/6/2017
1266. A Long Long Time Ago 6/6/2017
1267. No Magic Word 6/6/2017
1268. What The Meadow Dreamed 6/6/2017
1269. To The Royal Reader Of The Days Gone By 6/6/2017
1270. In The Summers' Day By Day 6/6/2017
1271. Then, Vanishing Away 6/6/2017
1272. This Is The Atlas Of The Floating 6/7/2017
1273. The Reverie On A Vintage Lace Dress 6/7/2017
1274. What Speech Could Be In Dreams 6/8/2017
1275. My Small Boat Over The Sea Of Dreaming Glides 6/8/2017
1276. I Imagine My Grandmother On A Day Trip From Heaven 6/9/2017
1277. An Accumulation Of Autumns 6/9/2017
1278. How Will We Know When We Have Reached The Sun 6/10/2017
1279. Angelology 6/12/2017
1280. Through No Fault Of Your Own 6/13/2017

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.

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • 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

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,

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