Category Archives: African American poetry

HOPE CLINGS LIKE A VELVET MIST

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Photography by Stony River/AU

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

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BAROMETER BONES

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Photography by Stony River/AU

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 GREEN PARROT

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THE GREEN PARROT

PHOTOGRAPHY BY STONY RIVER/AU

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

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Photography by Stony River/AU

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

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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

Photography by Stony River/AU

BIRD OF SAPPHIRE-FIRE

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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

Photography by Stony River/AU

THIS MORTAL COIL

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Royal blue &
translucent gold do await my soon return.

I  go to where there are no bones arotting.

Do not cry for me;
I am kept in the bosom of a holy dove.

Lo, these many years, 
my hands have been stretched upwards.

Abundant joy &
immaculent breezes are my preferred portion.

Blue-midnight,
angelic visitations steer my many night-visions.

This mortal coil is
but my chrysalis; gossamar wings wait for me.

The last mile is truly bloody virtue-Via Dolorosa.
 

 Alice Parris

Photography by Stony River/AU

Photography by Stony River/AU