Ivory Poem by Mary Angela Douglas
Ivory
standing before the space where
poems may come
you dodge the thrift of
ravens overhead the blue ribboned kind
of wounding competitions
seen and unseen
the withered branches
branching
it is
held in the heart like snow
almost appearing-
very near
in the shade of ghosted apples
they can't pick
in the frost-
tipped syllables backstage
or in the hold of a ship
they'll never sail the
blue crystal distances
you understand-
without being told
and the next gold radiance you
hear will slip, alas! from view
down down and down the dead words
told to much applause by vague
passerbys who live to silence
who can say what as long as they're ahead:
the jeweled watch unjeweled
the sentries astonished-
the gnashing instant the
rose is tipping so ivoire into
ceaseless light
you catch in your weeping hands-
mary angela douglas 18 october 2010
I suppose overwhelming they have been trying to get you to read what they write in my ten year's here. I can't recall ever doing that and there are a few more here like Lawrence who never would as well. After all in the end we stand on what we can write.. or not.. I am James
Don't worry about anything. I have learned this the hard way. Everything, even politics is in God's hands andYou said in another message it's winter for U.S. Presidents come and go, but our souls are stronger. And I believe just as our souls float above our life circumstances so too the real soul of America floats above politics and will survive and as Maya Angelou put it once, survive AND THRIVE. God always makes a way for us. And winter has its beauty too. Use your art as you are doing to express all your thoughts and feelings and you will always be healed by it. The true government belongs to God and He sees through walls to all the corruption. Pray and you will be comforted and do what you love best.
Stunnng...The jeweled watch on jeweled the centuries astonished the gnashing instant the rose it tipping so Ivorire into careless light you catch in your weeping hands....wow, I really enjoyed this work of verbal art!
thank you very much for your kind and generous comment. Imagery is so vital for poetry and for our imaginations. I do not agree at all with the current, long standing so called modern approach to poetry and literature in general especially in the u.s. where they worship minimalism and prune the trees so far back how can they ever grow again. And worse, they are trying to stamp out imaginative literature for its own sake out entirely and politicize EVERYTHING. But we will resist just by writing the poems the way they feel to us and real poetry will go on because it is immortal, like our souls.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 1:03:36 PM # 1.0.0.1119
The creamy white colour is seen and unseen as a hard creamy-white substance composing the main part of the tusks of an elephant. Down, down and down the dead words slip. Rose is tipping so ivoire into ceaseless light. An interesting poem is beautifully penned.10