Category Archives: spiritual poetry

O BLACK ANGEL

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New Angel Wings by Shadavar -stock

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

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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

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

 

 

 
                

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

BUTTERFLY & PEACOCK

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Indigo-Tourmaline sprawling eyes
on a bed of cilantro, olive, sage
and hunter-green iridescent wisps.

A lovely spot for a pumpkin-rust,
black & white, spotted & bordered,
bewitchingly beautiful butterfly.

My senses have been quickened.
My eye-gait is satiated from this;
the mother-lode feast of palettes.

My eyes have been soul satisfied.
My soul is a well-whetted whelp.

Although, we see darkness at every
turn in the world, purity pillars upon
the earth. The earth shall long remain

past the passing of our remains.

Alice Parris

 

Photography by Stony River/AU

Photography by Stony River/AU

 

CONCENTRIC CIRCLES

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All of life is held

within the motion 
of concentric circles.

There is nothing more.
Circles repeat…

History repeats, life repeats,

death repeats.

It is within this
same circularity

that we gaze into the past

and the future.

We  will all return
to where we first began.

 

Alice Parris

Photography by Stony River/AU

Photography by Stony River/AU