A Purpled Glance at Peace
by Lisa K. Parsons
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Rated "PG13" by the Author.
Print Save Become a Fan
Long, narrative poem written by the author
on the day of her third art opening.
A Purpled Glance at Love and Peace
The saxaphone and piano beat rhythm to my soul. You perched atop my red neo-modern couch with its pliant, molded seat and steel tubed legs, read psalms and proverbs from the watchtower book. Left
by two christian students, yesterday at noon.
One had a librarian look, with straight auburn hair and rectangular glasses while
the other, a younger woman, with perfect
teeth and golden toned vowells.
I sigh and rearrange and arrange my notes,
spilling ink like blood from my veins. I
say."There's the art opening tonight,"
and you sleeping and dozing again in your noir cashmere cardigan from Italy. The day
spreads before me like a long highway--
the "Sunset Strip" or one of my paintings
with yellow and azure shapes and hills beyond.
I glance at the soles of your feet, entombed
in rubber with lines and curves like a deconstructivist building by Frank Gehry.
The straw and hay from your farm intermingles with cigarette buts and smells
like late evening. I say, "...you are the King,
and you say"...you are the dominatrix."
Want to review or comment on this
Click here to login!
Need a FREE Reader Membership?
Click here for your Membership!
|Reviewed by Jeff Mason
|Splending imagery. This takes the reader on your painted journey. -- Jeff|
|Reviewed by Elizabeth Price
|A contrast here from neo-modern couch to the straw and hay from your farm, that melds into a familiar intimacy. Lovely. Liz|
|Reviewed by Regis Auffray
|A communicative offering worthy of much more than a single reading. Thank you, Lisa. Love and best wishes,
|Reviewed by Bill Grimes Jr.
|"spilling ink like blood from my veins"
Brilliant imagery Lisa!