Category Archives: spiritual

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

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

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

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