O BLACK ANGEL

New Angel Wings by Shadavar-stock

O black angel,

spread your wings for me.

Deliver me from ghosts and rattling chains,

chants, haunts, and roots, sinking at the bayou’s bottom.

 

The past with its dried hope and magnolia,

now long-gone; a shattered mirror of forlorn days.

 

O black angel,

spread your wings

upwards and outwards; sweep from

paradise to heaven. where grass grows emerald,

springing back past the walking on it.

To where joy-filled winds speak mysteries of the ages.

 

O black angel,

spirit me away to where

gates of pearl open onto streets of gold, like glass.

 

O black angel,

Uphold me in your massive hands.

Let me look into your piercing eyes, and

see beyond the boundaries of man’s comprehension.

To that place of magnificent, peerless beauty.

 

O black angel,

carry me in your wings.

Take me to that place where I might

see His body, bloodied and pierced for me.

Behold His face and kiss His nail-scarred hands.

 

 

By Alice Parris

HOPE CLINGS LIKE A VELVET MIST

Photography by Stony River/AU

 

 

HOPE CLINGS LIKE A VELVET MIST

Wildflowers grow flawlessly
Surrounded by colored lies
Adults breathe in tradition
Children exhale wordless sighs

The dreamless sleep in poppies
Couched in beds of loneliness
The future shreds like ribbons
Hope clings like a velvet mist

Fierce garnet-colored flames
Turn to soft flickers glowing
Crisp green ages into brown
Burdened with too much knowing

Young flesh will melt away
Like fresh wax melting slowly
Wasted breath filled with regret
As cradle rocks the lowly

Alice Parris

BAROMETER BONES

Photography by Stony River/AU

BAROMETER BONES

Barometer bones
predict storm clouds
gathering.

Lightning causes
fetal positions
of pain.

Bones
feel thunderstorms
assemble

as armies of slate-

hurling hail,
throwing lightning-
javelins,

catapulting
massive buckets
of rain.

Crazy old lady
appears in a
fire-engine-red

raincoat &
yellow, rain-slicker
boots.

She died
drenched & appears
not to know.

Alice Parris

THE RENAISSANCE OF ASPIRIN

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE RENAISSANCE OF ASPIRIN

By Glenn Parris

We want to read a book that transports us,
that makes us an eye witness to events. We
want detailed characters, clever sequences,
& various twists that lead to near catastrophe.

We want villains to pay for their ruthlessness,
we want our heroes and heroines exceptional,
yet able to compliment each other. We want
quirky characters. We want a guarantee of
non-stop, page-turning intrigue & mystery.

All of these qualilties that we want in our
‘good reads’ can be found in the new novel:
THE RENAISSANCE OF ASPIRIN, a medical
thriller, by Dr. Glenn Parris. He has created
lurking shadows; an underbelly in medicine.

In Glenn Parris’s book, Dr. Jack Wheaton and
Dr. Anita Thomas are exceptional. Khandi’s
ebullient personality provides us with the
‘quirk factor.’ Lucy is villainous. She is ice-cold
in her ruthlessness. The people she works for
are even more so. Pharmaceutical/industrial
greed is fatal as a cure for Fibromyalgia is
within reach, yet is used as a bargaining chip.

The rich send out killers and mercenaries to
silence Dr. Jack Wheaton & Dr. Anita Thomas.
And so, a great medical thriller has been born.
THE RENAISSANCE OF ASPIRIN will enthrall
readers & nudge its way onto the silver screen.

http://www.amazon.com/The-Renaissance-Aspirin-Glenn-Parris/dp/1483633020

Review by Alice Parris

 Dr. Parris is supported in his work by:

National Association of Women Owned Small Businesses, Inc.
678.468.7862
http://www.NAWOSB.org

SOULGASM BY ALICE PARRIS

Soulgasm is currently available in eBook format in Kindle Edition and in Google Play. This is a book of poetry which has had  tremendous staying power both in written word and audio CD. This autobiographical poetry book  has sculpted a life of its own;  its verses wearing themselves.

Alice Parris

 

 

MERCURIAL AMULETS

PHOTOGRAPHY BY  STONY RIVER/AU

 

Mercurial amulets melting, flowing lava-like towards
unknown paths. What was once feared is now desired
for its mesmerizing beauty and quick-silver movement.

Fickle are the minds that must be titilated by blowing
winds, ever moving in directions unseen, unknowable.

Just as dangerous are the minds that will never change.

Time, the great mystery, is but a purveyor of fortune;
blessing or cursing. Hours march as disciplined soldiers.

Minutes heal or slay victims who do slumber; whisking
away to other realms, those who will never escape sleep.

Yet, a moment of decision is the seed capable of glory.

Alice Parris

THE GREEN PARROT

THE GREEN PARROT

PHOTOGRAPHY BY STONY RIVER/AU

He,  a blustering,
extravagant painter.

She,  a sensitive,
flurried-word poet.

Loving and fighting.
Rising to do it all again.

But, brush & quill stilled.

Their passions lingered
long after their passing.

Their fiery  pallet painted
upon the signature wings

of an exotic green parrot.

Its passionate wings but
hot- love  rain forest deep.

Alice Parris

THE THIRD ALICE TRILOGY

Photography by Stony River/AU

 

 

Mother moon cries. Eye-weeper.

Earth’s waters replenish her tears.

Mother moon cries in great travail.

 

THE TWIXT & THE TWIDDLE

Coal-black armor on midnight steed.
Swords clashing in the heavenlies.

We lie between twixt and twiddle;
seeking safety and understanding.

 
THE THIRD ALICE

Asleep, the third Alice has
appeared in the third Heaven.

Her unglorified body flits
easily into celestial spaces;

haunting heaven thru desire.

Awake, she is weighed down;
the temporal demands of life.

The third Alice sees the glorious
flash of white wings encircle her.

Hears  pure knowledge whisper
to her spirit,  “soon, but not yet.”

 

ALICE PARRIS

 

 

 
                

ITCHY EARS

ITCHY EARS

Never enough gossip to whet
the palate. Never enough aperitif
to assauge the dry, cracked tongue.

The wonder of creation not nearly
as exciting as the creation of gossip.

Yet, ennui steals away new titilations,
until the latest conjured up significances.

The over-blown interpretations & cynicisms.

Nevertheless, it is well known that itchy ears
must be scratched into a state of total deafness.

Alice Parris

 

Photography by Stony River/AU

BIRD OF SAPPHIRE-FIRE

Symphony within my heart;
flute-flutters of small, blue wings.

Joy is a bird of sapphire-fire
alight on a winter branch; barren-brown.

Tender warbles pierce the sunless;
yet, the golden-glorious cascades down.

Only the spirit can ever know  
the ecstatic trumpeting when joy blows.

Alice Parris

Photography by Stony River/AU