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MARY ANGELA DOUGLAS 
Member since Jun 13, 2014


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  • Neighborliness, in Little Rock and beyond

    I had a parochial topic in mind this week — a surprise plan by Mayor Mark Stodola to address the Arkansas Arts Center's many needs.
    • Nov 19, 2015
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Recent Comments

Re: “Classic candy and more at Colonial Candy Corner

Luscious looking candies love the fruit slice candy, sigh, nostalgic sigh. Today is my birthday. I was born in Little Rock 65 years ago and caused my mother to miss the ending of the movie "Born Yesterday" for which she kindly forgave me. My mother in her later years sent me truckloads of lovely greeting cards with long letters and poems of her own creation. She also sent me cream candies from time to time, so colorful and in lovely holiday shapes and so meltaway. For her and for Arkansas, memories of candy and other sweet memories I am leaving here this poem, I miss you Arkansas. I will even (to paraphrase greatly Emily Bronte) will miss you in Heaven (hopefully) and want to come back...

GREETING CARD LAND

[to Hallmark and American Greetings greeting cards with love, not forgetting the penny valentines on thicker cardboard with one for the Teacher)

and to my mother who always sent me the best cards, hands down.

Greeting Card Land is the pleasantest
with curlicue writing on the clouds
and where, if we are good

the glitter snow comes down
and we walk in watercolours.
translucent is the sky

as though made of parchment
and we live on sentiments there
having little else to wear

and having nothing to confess

except on little candies
on Valentine's Day, bought by the bagful.
and all our artists paint the best

their assorted bouquets
for Mother's Day.
and each time:

crisply, brand new, wreathed in
ribbons crackling (with matching gift wrap!).
and they pop out all over the place

the diecut bluebirds of happiness or I mean,
the sweet peas and the bows and the cakes of pinkish cream.
and we go dreamy dancing in the strawberry lanes

pristine in our petticoats

whenever we stroll by the lavender streams
with the old mill wheel turning
and turning

forever on display with felicitous quotes
in the drugstores of blessed memory
where it smells of tobacco and perfumes,

with their high floral notes and we, so merry,
in the cherished precints of the chocolate cherried.

mary angela douglas 5 february 2016

Posted by MARY ANGELA DOUGLAS on 02/05/2016 at 12:03 PM

Re: “Neighborliness, in Little Rock and beyond

Maybe God is vetting the Christians through this, if there's any vetting to be done. And I am Christian and I include myself. I don't want to sound better than. I just feel sad.

Mary Angela Douglas

1 like, 0 dislikes
Posted by MARY ANGELA DOUGLAS on 11/21/2015 at 6:18 PM

Re: “Neighborliness, in Little Rock and beyond

cI was very happy to read your very considered defense of both the Arts Center and impassioned defense of most especially, the Syrian refugees.

To remember only The Good Samaritan Parable and the Commandment to Love Thy Neighbor is noble. To forget only that, is vile. They have also forgotten that such love itself is a sword and a shield and I cannot imagine now any fate more sorrowful than that of the Syrian refugees going from pillar to post as they have been and tormented all along the way with all the nations of the earth virtually casting them out at every turn and their seeming to be fated like ghost ships to some eternal wandering.

They must feel themselves in a nightmare, outside of the human race. Food has been thrown to them if at all, while they were standing in pits and behind fences. My God. We need courage to do the highest thing and have the right to expect to be carried along by God and Christ if we do it. The longer the delay the more cruel we really are. This is horrifying. Thank you for speaking in this way. At least there's at least one voice (though I am sure secretly there must be others) God Himself will hear from Heaven speaking on behalf of the Syrian refugees in Arkansas and that is Max Brantley.

In true Christianity to die defending the widow and orphan, with that kind of heart is to go to the highest heaven I am sure. This in the Bible is called pure Christianity. And, undefiled. (book of James) Even simple human kindness brooks NO DELAY in this.

Mary Angela Douglas

1 like, 0 dislikes
Posted by MARY ANGELA DOUGLAS on 11/21/2015 at 6:12 PM

Re: “Quapaw Quarter Association closes on historic Woodruff House

Dear Max Brantley,

I just want to take the opportunity here to say although I am probably the least qualified of his children to say so being home the least, and even though he was never the kind of person needing others to speak for him, I do somehow feel my father, Robert R. Douglas would be inordinately proud of the fine and consistent spirit of true Arkansas journalism you have exhibited in this blog. Hey, (as they say here in North Carolina)-me too!

so-Merry Christmas and Happy New Year 2015 to you, Max Brantley and thanks for making me feel much less homesick.

Sincerely,

Mary Angela Douglas

5 likes, 0 dislikes
Posted by MARY ANGELA DOUGLAS on 12/22/2014 at 2:32 PM

Re: “The Sunday open line: Free thinkers welcome

re: the kind and appreciated comment of the gentleman above who asked to see more poems all my poems can be found at http://angelidicuoremare.blogspot.com/ or through googling the name of my poetry blog: "To The Russian Poets.". I do not proselytize. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I speak the things I think and feel period as everyone is free to do. I have been writing poetry since 1960 (age ten) inspired a lot by the beauty of Arkansas, so for love of her, dear countrymen, please judge kindly of me as truly, I do of you, being far from home a very long time.

Posted by MARY ANGELA DOUGLAS on 12/22/2014 at 11:09 AM

Re: “The Sunday open line: Free thinkers welcome

Why Don't You...

[to the myth of Diana Vreeland...]

why don't you...
make a gown out of fresh rose petals?
scatter the leaves of old letters

as if you were rhe wind why don't you
run on the playground anymore
or eat the icing out of the bowl

and just serve plain cake afterwards, mysteriously,
with no explanations.
deck yourself out like a Christmas tree

complete with a little creche and the one overwhelming Star
and THEN go to all the winter solstice parties

why don't you read only childhood picture books for a year
maybe you'll remember how to disappear
just wearing lavender at sunset.

maybe then the great poets will come to mind
and you'll be happy without knowing why.
even without your iridescent earrings...
your mother's peony fan...

maybe the ballet russe will come to visit you on tour

you. while you're standing en pointe.
while you're veiled in pearl.
between the galaxies.

mary angela douglas 21 december 2014

Posted by MARY ANGELA DOUGLAS on 12/22/2014 at 10:59 AM

Re: “The Sunday open line: Free thinkers welcome

P.S.a poem for you (if you wish)

Christmas 1962

artificial Christmas shines (but real, to us)
in flocked bright pink or blue
while we hang holly wreaths on every star
or dream we do.

to stand in the crystal air one second to midnight snows
I would go anytime now to stand before that house.
but then, I was already home.

it doesn't look real to us, they sigh,
the latecomers to our Feast.
I have a different point of view
with oranges piled up on the counter

awaiting their porous peppermint sticks
so we can sip the orange freeze quite through.
it snowed so much we built an igloo and
that was in Central Arkansas

where even the drugstores seem like fairyland to us
and quite replete in the wrapping paper aisle alone!
we would have worn Christmas bows to school if they had let us;

carried lunch sacks of cordial cherries;
dressed up in cherry velvet!
and it's the countdown to the Holy Child
even for the astronauts in training

drinking Tang. we do that too
and toast our kinship to John Glenn
because- we eat the same Breakfast.

break off an icicle or two whispered shy springs
to come to the violet winds...
woof woof said the Christmas dog when they fell down-
plunging into that gift wrap, Snow

God lit his holy tapers one by one in our backyard skies
so silverly the Christmas bell was rung.
and every carol sung by the angelic choirs:

(that's us. my sister and I)
head angels in the Christmas Play with golden cardboard wings
and tinsely haloes lighting up the sanctuary.

mary angela douglas 30 november 2014

10 likes, 3 dislikes
Posted by MARY ANGELA DOUGLAS on 12/01/2014 at 1:27 AM

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