My pearlescent poems for you, my very best selected from my other blog TO THE RUSSIAN POETS at angelidicuoremare.blogspot.com which strangely, I can no longer edit nor add to. Anyway, welcome to the new blog my friend which is a culling of many colours and all for you in the name of lovely God, and the Trinity and my mother, Mary Adalyn Young-Douglas and other dear loved ones, of which you, also, dear reader, shine like an unnumbered Star. God bless YOU and worldwide lovely enduring POETRY...
Monday, June 13, 2022
MYSTICAL EVENINGS WITH THE PTA
the dove stitched sundials in the summer shade
the ache of autumn in the waning of leaves
these things I wanted to display
on the school bulletin boards, or taped to
the Holiday Windows so you could see them,
from outside,
when Parents came at night with the P.T.A.
to visit our mystical classrooms.
or fresh strawberries in May, piled high
in their show-and-tell baskets
under a Recess sky
and we're all laughing
and we don't know why
at the creaking of playground swings.
and we'll all wear green crepe paper
with snow crepe collars and stand together
forming the Christmas Tree
on the auditorium stage
or dance between the Cakewalk's masking taped lines
and never stray
and win the cake with the pineapple glaze,
the cherries on top,
can you top that? (I think not).
now it's too late to turn old homework in
and paintbox privileges are over.
but I'll weave chains of clover in my sleep
and pretend I'm there again
in a new plaid dress so bright with starch
I'm apple crisp wearing it
till the bell rings in the chilly air
and it's time to go in.
mary angela douglas 5 august 2015;9 march 2016
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
WORDS AND MUSIC LATELY
mirage like music comes and goes oh beautiful mirror beyond the sing along that the heart can't help but gaze upon but the words fail ...
-
the peach coloured castle and the olive tinted sky of a vintage postcard dotted its "i's" and it was sent to me, to me in all...
-
Arcadia, the word is like a cherry lozenge on the tongue or butter rum my sister proposed looking up from the swing sitting idle in the su...
-
outside the schools of everywhere I cried: God opened the book of stars and I looked up he opened the book of roses and I wept, the book of ...
No comments:
Post a Comment