Mary Angela Douglas

Mary Angela Douglas Poems

1281. In The Summers' Day By Day 6/6/2017
1282. Then, Vanishing Away 6/6/2017
1283. This Is The Atlas Of The Floating 6/7/2017
1284. The Reverie On A Vintage Lace Dress 6/7/2017
1285. What Speech Could Be In Dreams 6/8/2017
1286. My Small Boat Over The Sea Of Dreaming Glides 6/8/2017
1287. I Imagine My Grandmother On A Day Trip From Heaven 6/9/2017
1288. An Accumulation Of Autumns 6/9/2017
1289. How Will We Know When We Have Reached The Sun 6/10/2017
1290. Angelology 6/12/2017
1291. Through No Fault Of Your Own 6/13/2017
1292. In The Nutshell Of Days 6/13/2017
1293. I Dreamed Of England Returned To Herself 6/17/2017
1294. What If I Slipped 6/18/2017
1295. The Glorious Salvage 6/20/2017
1296. Wearing Organza To Our Made Up Parties 6/20/2017
1297. Sometimes I Think Of Pompeii 6/26/2017
1298. The Way Things Looked When Set Against The Skies 7/1/2017
1299. On The Novels Of Kazuo Ishiguro 7/3/2017
1300. Four Horsemen Will Not Ride Tonight 7/8/2017
1301. We Started Out On A Cherry Filled Day 7/9/2017
1302. Long Ago, Grandmother, By The Cross Stitched Orchards' Light 7/9/2017
1303. In The Blue Hour 7/9/2017
1304. God Save Us From The Surreptitious 7/10/2017
1305. The Ministry Of Dreams 7/11/2017
1306. Through The Stick Trees A Foil Moon Is Shining 7/12/2017
1307. Words 7/13/2017
1308. To The Great Poets No Longer Remembered 7/23/2017
1309. Another Song For Walter De La Mare 7/23/2017
1310. The Marmalade Measures Of The Sun 7/24/2017
1311. There Was A Language Before We Came 12/7/2016
1312. For Dylan Thomas In The Dark Blue Dusk, The Dust Of Words 12/8/2016
1313. The Constancy Of Snow Is Perhaps Invisible 12/9/2016
1314. Today A Leaf Fell 12/12/2016
1315. Child Of Immensity 12/15/2016
1316. Christmas Standing Still 12/16/2016
1317. Some Ballet 12/16/2016
1318. They Seem Afraid To Write About The Stars 12/16/2016
1319. Ghost Ships I Have Seen 12/17/2016
1320. Song To Be Sung In An Overpoliticized Age 3/1/2017

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.

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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


we make useful things: things that won't shatter.
we make useful things, things that Matter.
think of a wave on the sea, I said;

think of a butterfly wing
crumbling to dust,
gold spotted;

they said weeping in lead.
you are besotted.
think of the rainbow edge

fluted along the floods
think of the mists that shrive
those in the house of sod.

and then the prairie rose
that no one has to mind
that glows in the mud

and the snow and the summers
honey hived.
these makers may stand and cheer

that long may their items ...

Read the full of Alive

Read This Poem

read this poem in the language of snow
your last thought as you turn to go
read it in silence

becoming yourself the syllables of a silence
no one owns
read it in all colours

or as apple tree shade

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