there should be golden apples
a glass mountain
the force of gravity
a diffident princess
and Time to solve the riddle
so that the shoes don't wear out
and embarrass the owner
on the way to the bookshop
that wasn't there yesterday
a pink cube
with an aqua roof, slanting elliptically
the feeling of starting all over again
on a fresh sheet of paper
a freshly sharpened pencil:
go where the snow queen goes the problem's stated:
a swathe of snow
just opened cream
for the coffee.
two trains with variable speeds
in a toffee afternoon
that's the colour of the leaves
as they depart
and I'm reminding myself
art is art; fiction is fiction or
of when the fairy tales were a
brand new diction.
but there is something about this solitude
so that all riddles merge;
certain elements in a room contemplated
as if I were on a star where
there should always be these color forms mingled
even if it never gets solved
the golden apples, the crystal clause
the mountain crystal. plunging into it
like a sea
surpassing the mermaid soliloquies
it's own liebestraum and on and on
the floral accents of the harbour breeze.
mary angela douglas 23 july 2019
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem