Poetry by Angela

Feather Float

A tiny white feather
Slowly rocked back and forth
Toward the earth
Not at all affected
By the slight wind
Or the rain
Feather Float
Sway, sway
Little white feather
As you zig zag back and forth
Unhindered by
The warmth you have left behind

27.9.10 Angela Thoma

Long Threads - Where Art Starts

A very long thread of ideas saturates my brain,
Winding up, over, around and through every pathway -
Filling my cells and coursing wildly through my veins,
Searching, gathering, discovering,
Wanting the dreams to become tactile...

Then the ideas burst forth from my mind,
Pouring words onto papers,
Sending my hands scouring through fabrics and textures,
Or pulling a canvas from the shelf
Filling my senses with the rich scent of
Torn papers, acrylics and semi-gloss mediums...

Finally all the self-collaboration comes together
and as if by magic a new piece of art is born.
-Angela Thoma

Thursday, March 13, 2008
Do You Ever Wonder What it Would Be Like

Do you ever wonder what it would be like...
If the snow were to come softly
On a warm summer day?
Would it feel nearly as delicious
As the sun does on a crisp fall afternoon?

Would it caress your bare skin,
Like the wind wrapping around you
In the high desert evening?

Would it make you feel as alive
As the huge raindrops quietly
Falling against your face?

If the snow were to come softly
On a warm summer day....
Would you dance among the crystal flakes?

- Angelina T
12 May 2007


The rain is here, with huge, thick drops falling one after another in pouring fashion. It shouldn't come as a big surprise to me (it rains in Oregon), but today it brings an unwelcome coldness to my bones.

I don't know about the rest of you, but I am looking forward to the warm spring days; aching to put my fingers in the warming soil, take in the fresh scent of Mother Earth, drop in some vegetable plants, gently pat some seeds into the fertile loam , and watch my garden grow.

I was thinking when I woke up this morning that winter really doesn't need to last this long, then I heard on the evening news that there is snow falling in the Cascades. From my place on the earth, even a small east wind tends to bring the cold off the mountain where it seems to settle down around us in this little section of the foothills.

In November, I yearned for the scent of the snowfall drifting off the Cascades and when it came, I gloried in the wonder, marveled at the glistening mountains, and ached to feel the snow against my face...but now, the spring is coming and my yearnings begin stretching, hoping, begging for the warmth again.

Soon, the spring will come; the real spring, not just the date where it announces itself on the calendar and as it wears into a mild summer and turns into hot late August days; I will once again be yearning for the cool of fall, the scent of snow, and the rebirth of a new spring.



Anonymous said…
After reading this i can honestly say i know ware I got my skills with poetry from. indeed it is as faith, so little of it can be taught by a book, so much more is taught by experiance and life. Mom your awsome and a great teacher to me on much of my lifes knowledge.
Thank you son. It's always wonderful to hear from you. You are truly a delight, always bringing sunshine to my day.

You are a great poetry writer; so full of emotion and words deep from your heart. You also have the added wonder of being able to write songs and put them to music.

I'm fortunate to have a son that loves poetry as much as I do.

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