Monday, July 14, 2014

Reflections on Sunday.

Here is a short ditty I wrote several years ago.  It is not a commentary on my current pastor, but rather a commentary on the human condition.  Church can be a quiet place, and if you happen not to be in tune to the message on a particular Sunday, you might find yourself drifting off.


Today in church
my foot went to sleep.
The sermon was long
and not real deep.
The rest of me was struggling too,
but only my foot went to sleep.

Dennis Price


Sunday, July 13, 2014

Sunday Reflection

It's Sunday.  I choose to take time out today to go and worship God. I hope you do also.  Reflection on those things that are only known by faith are sometimes lost in the constant flow of other information.  When we are forced to stop for a while and unplug from the repetitive drone, we can often enjoy life at a level we may not have felt since we were children. I was fortunate to be in an area with few clouds as the full moon came up last night.  It was spectacular.  I wrote this poem years ago to try and put into words one of those "aha" moments.

          GOD’S PEBBLE

There was a man upon life’s road 
who rarely wavered from his task,
walked with purposed step and true,
until a pebble found his shoe.

And once inside, the pebble wore
upon his foot till stop, he must.
While kneeling down to get the stone
he saw a world he’d never known.

On his left he saw the sea,
breathed salt air, felt the breeze,
heard the crash of waves on sand,
felt a presence, not of man.

On his right huge mountains rose
rugged peaks, towering trees.
A pristine lake, reflections bore
that magnified God’s bounteous store.

He took the pebble from his shoe,
once more started on his way.
But, stopped and looked from time to time
as God’s small pebble came to mind.

Dennis Price

Saturday, July 12, 2014


Did you ever wonder how you were seen by other animals?  What about the amazing dragonfly?  Here are some thoughts on the subject.


A dragonfly
with bulging compound eyes
zigs, zags, and zips
across the sky
transparent wings a whir.
Landing lightly,
on my shoulder now.
In kaleidoscope
it sees my face.

Dennis Price

Friday, July 11, 2014

Refrigerator Poetry

These are refrigerator magnets with words on them.  The idea is to put them in random order on the outside of your refrigerator door.  The words are then used as a pool from which you create poems.  As you use them up the poems become harder to make.  Some of the latter ones might even be bizarre. Here is a short example.

White rain,
water chain,
to spring,
then lake,
lazy moon to take
from sky to mist.             

Here are a couple more:  Try it using the words visible in the lead picture.

You think
I dream
Ask not why

Ugly black storm
Through flood
Frantic heave and boil
Ship gone
Beneath purple blood.

Dennis Price

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Poetry, what is it?

Poetry is a little hard to define.  It has many forms and formats, and its subject matter is limitless.  I have my own ideas.  I think it should be understandable.  It really should be enjoyed more by your ears than by your eyes.  I always recommend reading poetry aloud.  When I was trying to learn the craft and hanging around with other poets, I found I enjoyed the ones who could craft a phrase with a rhythm and cleverness.  I understood their sentiment.  I belonged to groups whose members were from a wide range of backgrounds. Some were working people with very little formal training, and others were highly educated academics with impressive resumes.  There were enjoyable poets in both groups.  However, in the latter group there was a little hint of snobbery on occasion.  I remained true to my style and didn't try to reach too high in an attempt to impress my audience.  I wrote this poem and performed it at one of the monthly meetings.  I think everyone understood and there were more than a few smiling when I finished.  I hope you like it too.

I Salute You William Shakespeare

If I could just remember who wrote what,
and what they said,
I would quote them in my poetry,
the living and the dead.

I would be obtuse and dark,
droning on in endless prose.
not caring where my poem’s been
not knowing where it goes.

They’d think I’m educated,
worldly, pithy, hard.
For sure an academic.
cutting edge, avant garde.”

I would throw the cesspool at them
from bathroom to bordello.
A gasp, a blush, a whisper,
“He is such a brilliant fellow.”

They would clap when I was finished,
softly sigh, and nod assent.
And wonder if the others
had a clue of what I meant.

 Dennis Price

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

" the moon Alice."

I recall the old TV series, "The Honeymooners", with its characters Alice and Ralph Cramden.  Ralph would often threaten with balled up fist to send Alice to the moon.  Everyone knew that Alice really wore the pants in their relationship and that Ralph, despite all his bombastic rhetoric, was really a softie.  The memory of that great live television show was the catalyst for this short poem.

To the Moon

The tracks were laid
right to the Moon,
so Alice took the train.
She finally reached her limit
of hearing Ralph complain.

Dennis Price

Tuesday, July 8, 2014

Riding a Plow Horse

Have you ever ridden a plow horse?  If not, you may enjoy the experience without the bumps and bruises.


Trigger was a plow horse
who, seldom saw a saddle.
I was just a big kid
who rarely rode a straddle.

I lived in the city,
away from field and barn.
When school was out I’d visit
Old Trigger on the farm.

I thought I’d try and ride him,
and made a split-bit bridle.
I knew it might not stop him,
but hoped it’d make him idle.

Uncle Barney’s saddle
was split right down the middle.
It was old, the leather dry,
the cinch strap cracked and brittle.

I saddled Trigger, led him round
beside an old steel drum.
I stood on top and jumped aboard
he snorted, bucked, and spun.

The summer sun was brutal
Old Trigger soon lost steam.
He plodded down the gravel road,
at plowing pace it seemed.

I tried to make him pick up speed
with kick, and click, and whistle.
Then I turned him toward the barn
and he became a missile.

I rocked back and grabbed the horn,
pulled hard on cotton reins.
But Trigger galloped faster
as he barreled down the lane.

The barn loomed large before us.
he stopped just past the door.
I became a yard dart,
flying headfirst to the floor.

When I regained my senses
I made this observation:
That you shouldn’t ride a plow horse
for fun or transportation.

Dennis Price

Sunday, July 6, 2014

Charlotte Amalie, St. Thomas Virgin Islands

I have been to St. Thomas on several occasions both as a Cruise Ship stop, and also to vacation.  On one particular trip, my last, I was unimpressed with my accommodations.  The small window unit would only provide cooling if you stood directly in front of it.  The weather was hot and humid.  Hundreds of tourists flooded the streets and shops of Charlotte Amalie from dawn till dusk.  The locals were surly and unhelpful. I couldn't wait to leave.  This poem was written to chronicle that visit.

Tropical Depression

Humid heat
no retreat
cranking down to
tropic beat.

Not to worry
we don’t hurry.
Sweat in eyes now
vision blurry.

Must find shelter
from this swelter.
Stuck in traffic,
Helter Skelter.

Where’s the hotel
in this black hell?
A.C. won’t work?
Oh! You don’t tell.

Spent my money,
wanted sunny.
Now I’m naked,
feel all runny.

Too late rain.
I’m insane.
Counting days till
outbound plane.

 Dennis Price

Saturday, July 5, 2014

It's Raining

It's raining. Some light summer showers are falling this afternoon with a little distant rumbling.  It has been very hot lately, and we are all happy to see some nice cool rain falling.  I wrote a poem about this very type of event.  I hope you can relate.

God’s Symphony

The land is parched and dry
beneath the summer sun
and one might question,
why its been so long since rain
has spattered softly in the dust
until the droplets blend
in numbers large enough to
soak the crust and run in rivulets
steaming in the heat with
pitter, patter beat
backed up by lights
behind gray clouds
and roar of distant tympani?

First pianissimo, then forte
as the lightning cymbals crash
and drum roll thunder shakes
the core.

The howling wind joins in
for harmony and takes the
movement down to pianissimo
once more

then fades to blue.

Dennis Price

Friday, July 4, 2014

Freedom From Tyranny

How do we properly celebrate what has been left to us by those who have lived and fought the good fight before us?  We teach our children by example what must be done to preserve this fragile thing we know as freedom.  It can be  freedom to do great things,  freedom to worship as God leads us to, or freedom from the tyranny from a government run by unprincipled men who have forgotten who establishes government. Read Romans Chapter 13 where the apostle Paul instructs Christians on government and why it was established.  I am thankful everyday that I was allowed to be born here in the United States of America. Let's purpose to fight back against the tyranny that threatens our wonderful heritage.  Here is the definition of tyranny, followed by a shot poem I hope will inspire.

  1. cruel and oppressive government or rule.
    "people who survive war and escape tyranny"
    synonyms:despotism, absolute power, autocracydictatorship, totalitarianism,Fascism; More
    • a nation under cruel and oppressive government.
    • cruel, unreasonable, or arbitrary use of power or control.
      "she resented his rages and his tyranny"

  2. Memory

    Through the thin wall
    I heard my father’s voice.
    Long gone, but still there.

Dennis Price

Thursday, July 3, 2014

July 4, 1776 - Happy Birthday U.S.A.

Today is my beautiful wife's birthday.  Happy Birthday Barbara.  Tomorrow is the 238th birthday of our nation, the United States of America.  I hope you will celebrate our great experiment in freedom and vow to do all you can to keep our forefathers dream alive.  God Bless America.


Out of revolution,
the grip of monarch’s rule.
Driven by freedom.
Founded on values
from God’s holy book,
the glue that binds,
in trust,
its varied masses.


Through fire of war,
was forged in strength
a strong republic.


And though the vision dims
in her prosperity,
she rises to the challenge
when tyrants seek
to quell her voice.


Blessed by God,
we must hold those
values close
that bound
our loose knit colonies
in their infancy.


Dennis Price

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

It's summertime and the livin' is easy.  I love lying in a beautiful pool in the late afternoon just drifting along with the breeze and thinking about how lucky I really am.  I hope you enjoy my reflections.


I lie adrift in an azure pool
with arms out stretched
in weightlessness
and shut my eyes behind
my shades
and gaze through eyelids
red with blood at
changing patterns light and dark.

The sun bares down
from cloudless sky
gulf breezes slowly
turn me round
and I can feel
my skin turn brown
as afternoon slips into night
and with it every troubling thought

fades on the gentle swells.

Dennis Price

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Arkansas Swamp Marker

This photo is the actual site of the markers that were set after the Louisiana Purchase.  Two gum trees acted as the base line and meridian for surveying all the land in the western half of the U. S.  I wrote a poem to commemorate the feat.  I hope you enjoy it.


West of the colonies,
wild and untamed,
lay a vast stretch of wilderness
owned by the French.

To the south, gulf breezes
cooled old New Orleans.
To the north was Canada’s
vast timbered realm.

In between there was Arkansas,
harsh and unyielding.
Caddo and Quapaw
had managed to stay.

In 1803 the French
had to sell it.
The young U.S. bought it
and moved on its claim.

They needed a marker
to anchor their survey.
A marker, in Arkansas’s
dark river swamps.

North from the mouth
of the Arkansas river.
West from the mouth
of the St Francis too.

Robbins met Brown on
the 10th of November,
in a swamp full of
Cypress and Tupelo gum.

In 1815, they marked
two gum trees.
Base line and meridian
for westward expansion.

In six square mile townships
the new frontier grew.
All measured their boundaries
from an Arkansas swamp.
The settlers came,
moved partly by greed.
The Indians left,
without charity.

Modern surveys confirm it.
The point was the right one.
Those two stately gums
in an Arkansas swamp.

So the West was established,
and new States were added,
by shooting a line to
where Robbins met Brown

at the Tupelo gums
in an Arkansas swamp,
where few folks had been,
and few want to go.

The Louisiana Purchase
of President Jefferson.
Explored by the duo of
Lewis and Clark.

Was mapped and divided
by using two gum trees.
Deep in the heart

of an Arkansas Swamp.

Dennis Price