Mary Angela Douglas


Mary Angela Douglas Poems

121. Play Something On The Violin For Rilke 8/24/2014
122. At The Academy Of Golden Birds 8/24/2014
123. It Would Be Cornbread, Frosted Palest Pink 8/24/2014
124. The Last Spring Of King Midas 8/24/2014
125. Rip Van Winkle Sends Regrets 8/24/2014
126. Hamelin 8/24/2014
127. In The Palace Of Incredible Roses 8/24/2014
128. To Be Sung In White Tulle, Silver Sequined 8/24/2014
129. Green Violin 8/24/2014
130. Around The Fairytale's Gemstoned Page 8/24/2014
131. Shed No Tears, Fond Unicorn 8/24/2014
132. Listening For The Beginning Of Snows, White Flowers, Celesta 8/24/2014
133. The Latest Dulac Illustrations 8/24/2014
134. Where Is The Beautiful Kingdom Where You Were 8/24/2014
135. White Jade 8/24/2014
136. After The Gaelic 8/24/2014
137. Galileo, Galileo 8/24/2014
138. Van Cliburn Nears Heaven, Missing Song 8/24/2014
139. Touring Angels 8/24/2014
140. I Dreamed In The Sea Of The Children Of Lir 8/24/2014
141. I'Ve Looked Through Every Part Of The Castle, The Princess Sighed 8/24/2014
142. Here's The Vivid Crayon Of The Sun 8/24/2014
143. Coming Down On The Side Of The Angels 8/24/2014
144. Dining On Cherry China With A Rose Overlay 8/24/2014
145. Burton Bringing The House Down 8/24/2014
146. Another Crystal Ship Is Going Down 8/24/2014
147. Now They Will Say That You Are Dead 8/24/2014
148. Cliburn In Moscow 8/24/2014
149. The Tinman's Christmas Dream 8/24/2014
150. Blackberries Drenched In The Cream Of Good Consciences 8/24/2014
151. Red Shoes Retelling 8/24/2014
152. Recently, This Letter To Shalott 8/24/2014
153. Her Wishes Were All Strawberry, Flecked In Golden Cream 8/24/2014
154. It Was There We Cherished The Memory Of Stars 8/24/2014
155. Variation With Glitter 8/24/2014
156. Where Is The Fairytale Bread You Hid In Your Pocket 8/24/2014
157. And Were You Dreaming In The Licorice Night 8/24/2014
158. The Kitchen Maid Remembers The Emperor's Nightingale 8/24/2014
159. It's A Tin Toy Cash Register Feeling 8/24/2014
160. In A Tulip Dress In Plato's Cave 8/24/2014

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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