Monthly Archives: July 2010

MY FIRST-LIGHT LOVER

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And…
I wait for my first-light lover.

He is alive with musical vibrations
& lyrical laughter. He draws me past
the night’s cruel maze of darknesses.

His eyes are the color of Cool Gray
His skin is burnished like fine brass.
His voice is harbinger of a new moon.
His smile melts ice-stars; to shed tears.

And…
I wait for my first-light lover.

Waiting…
my feet grow stong like roots & my
legs are hidden by Birds Of Paradise.
He never understands how long I wait;
his days are my endless months, years.
His job is to sprinkle gold-dust on those
with dead-fish eyes, so they can glisten.

My first-light lover
cleverly stole Cupid’s quiver of arrows.
In stealth, he has become the King of Hearts.

And…
I wait for my first-light lover.

He is there in black-obelisk night.
In inhalation & exhalation at noon.
He is there as day disrobes, donning
musty-dusk. He is there as fire flies
seduce sultry, summer eves.  He is there…

at first-light.

 

Alice Parris

 

 

 
 

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HOWLING STORM

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Magnolia-crows

dart through mosses.

Their ominous sounds

muffled by foliage.

How long is long

enough?

Is it the will

that holds us to

our paltry portion?

Is it purpose

that makes us swim

upstream?

Is it destiny

that declares us

sole survivor?

Why do we cling

so tightly to

aging shells?

Fiery-mango passion

burned into wispy

pewter-ashes.

Shall we dine

on our memories

of  once-great love?

Shall we feed our

skeletons with fleeting

azure-lavender dawns,

coral-tangerine sunsets?

A weary leaf twists

in the  howling storm.
 

 

Alice Parris

THE NARCISSIST

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 THE NARCISSIST

Looking into a
mirror of alchemy,
blunt, boorish features are

transmuted into aquiline gods.

Golden crowns
forever grace the heads
of these Roman Emperors &
magnificent Patrician queens.

Mediocre thoughts
become gem-like; brilliantly
blinding sun from its own glory.

Screeching owls
transformed as nightingales.

What fortune
has blessed us with
such stellar luminousity?

O, see me,
hear me, want to be me.
I am…the true narcissist.

Glory rewinds
throughout the entire template.

O, fortune,
Why have you deceived us?
This ruse of smoke & mirrors

is but a fully-spread-peacock
beckoning…

Alice Parris

Photography by Stony River/AU

Photography by Stony River/AU

HONEY EATERS

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HONEY EATERS

Truth is simple.
It sustains mountains
pirouetting in time.

Yet, the grasping
for instant knowledge;
honey eaters slurping.

Volume does
not substance make.
Wisdom pierces
vessles that do speak.

Go to river’s edge;
stave off annihilation.

Stop wasting
on a hamster’s wheel.
Sisyphus –
an acrid enslavement.

Alice Parris

Photography by Stony River/AU

Photography by Stony River/AU

THE KINDREDS

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THE KINDREDS
 
We walk together
at varying times,
 
varying degrees
of sun & shade.
 
We walk in these
places of darkness
 
& mist.
 
We stand together:
the kindreds.
 
 
Alice Parris
For Anna Donovan
 
 

Stony River photograph/AU

Stony River photograph/AU