Tag Archives: religion


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




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



Bejeweled, crowned, and kept upon a leash of love, I would that I could dazzle you with some lilting music

from the timbrets within my pampered, adorned heart.

I would that I could take you to heights of ecstasy without ever touching you, for I am faithful, learned, of noble birth.

I can make a skillful courtesan look like a rouged- harlot;

she cannot seduce without her tactile offensive-her beauty diminished in the pleasing. A footnote of her times, trapped

in a male -dominant system that does not know her, love her.

I know that pleasure resides within the complexity of the brain. Synapses triggering, firing off hidden, trapped, erotic memories.

Your fantasies are painted upon the canvas of your tongue. Tell me your fantasies, and I will tell you your certain future.

But, I am not my own. I possess no free will. I cannot fly the way of the un-initiated with shut eyes and wide-open wings.

I have laid my will down in liege to my Lord. I am no man’s. I bow down and bend my knee to my heart’s rightful master.

I am completely His. My heart is a ravished vassal queen.

Alice Parris



A large, impressive, cherry wood desk sat beneath the tiny hourglass which was to be my life.
An antigue hourglass with its intriquitely detailed top and

bottom was precise in its meting out of what was to be the granules of life allotted to me.
I preened while the first half of the passing sand poured down

into its unobtrusively-waiting receptacle.
I postured while another fourth of
the sand poured down in meticulous precision.
I, then, became obsessed with

the scanty fourth which passed continuously before me.
I toiled day and night to make a mark of truth upon deafening mankind.
In all of my many preenings

and posturings, I had discovered but one absolute truth: the only currency which would remain in the ever-moving, ever-indifferent sands of time would be a pure, simple, unfettered love: the true gold of a man’s life upon this earth.

Alice Parris



How I have waited,
my beloved, for the
sound of your approach.

When you come, I am
set ablaze with the
lightnings of your love.

You are only as far away
as my heart-felt prayer.

My love for you
is as the rumbling sea.
It cannot be satisfied.

I am forever yours;
a captive- beating- heart,
a trifle in your hand.

You speak, transforming me;
 the sound of your passion…

Distant memories are
awakened. All of them
lead me here and now.

Your will is mine to obey.
On your word, I will live-
or die-it does not matter.

I am forever yours-
never the lessened grip- 
my love in absentia.

Alice Parris
Inspiration from The Songs of Solomon



There is a


That visits

Us all in

Our brief


On earth.

The decision

We make will


Alter our


Here and


There is a


That must

Try us all,

With but

One right


To be made.

It is

Simply this:

To love or

Not to love.

What value

Has silver

Or gold,

Pain or


Pride or


When on

The Scale

With love




Alice Parris



In my desert places

The Lord touches me;

Not because He loves

Desert places but

Because He fills empty pots.

I have cried out of

My need in desert places.

It is not during times

Of lush, fertile life

That I reach my Maker,

But in those dry, barren

Places, God touches me.

I thank Him for

My barren times,

My times of sorrow:

I have emerged

Like lazarus,

Raised from the dead.

I have touched the Lord

And having touched Him,

Poetry has been created

From the dust of my soul.

Alice Parris