to poetry
my lost unicorn wandered far
from the tattered tapestry, unseen
to graze in someone else's
dream
the one with the jeweled soul
the one who would eat
from my hand fresh amethysts
every day
poetry, too, is wandering from the world
no longer wanted
living on scraps in
faith-based precints (faith in what - can't they say?)
vivid as ice-cream colors
but they can't recall
the King of all bright words and stars.
but there was no vanishing point
in my picture
there was no heraldic distance ever
and I have looked so far to find you
and take you home
while scavengers remained behind
snipping at the last few
shining threads
since they know better
how the chanson should end
being themselves
such household names
but I know how the song begins
and this small glissando
I hid well in my last pocket
against the dread day of your disappearance
these golden threads I have
wept anew, dealing with so much straw:
remembering the promises made to thieves;
entreating the King of Heaven
to make your broken music box -
turn again, this way:
let the storied creature
with the kind and nuzzling horn
clomp on before your many-hued gaze
led past confetti corridors
and children's best birthday parties -
home.
where you are breathing the color of roses
where you are breathing the color of roses
mary angela douglas 31 august 2009
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
and I have looked so far to find you nice surrealistic poem 10
Thank you so much dear Marieta; you quoted the line I felt the most deeply about. I'm so glad you liked it. Sorry I took so long to reply; I've only just started in 2016 to reply to comments as I have my own computer now and the eye problems I was going through have gotten so much better. Thank you!