Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Cowboys at Dusk


High atop the mesa
cowboys sit in restful pose
and watch the sun
slide down the western sky.

Purple, pink, golden hues
bleak and rugged scenes
in ever changing show
from dusk to night.

In saddles, worn.
On ponies, tired.
They sit in awe as stars appear
and know,
why they,
are richer than most men.

Dennis Price

Thursday, January 22, 2015


Epiphany: A sudden realization about the meaning of something.


It’s the rising sun
blasting through the frosted
glass on the east wall of my bedroom.

I can feel it.

I move slowly and take in
the aroma of coffee
as it rides the currents
from my kitchen.

I listen to the quiet
electronic hum
coming from the vents in
my ceiling.

I stir and sense the
softness of warm sheets
on exposed skin.


                                               Dennis Price 

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Stars in the City

In the city, the light from the street lamps and buildings often obscures the stars and moon.  This Haiku was written on that subject.

Above the street lights
the muted dome stands silent
beauty rarely seen.

Monday, January 12, 2015

Totem Poles

Several years ago, Barbara and I went to Alaska.  While there we saw several sites where totem poles were displayed.  It is an ancient way of recording the family history of mostly Northwestern Native Americans.  I found the explanations interesting, but most of their interpretive data came from folks generations removed from the original artisans.  I wrote the following poem to convey my impressions.

Stake Your Totem

Chop the tree.
Carve the wood.
Tell the story of your clan.

Stake your totem
on the seashore
hoping all the world will see.

Who will be left
when others pass
to pass the epic on?

Unlock the past
without a key?

Learned men
will cogitate,
extrapolate, and pontificate.
But, in the end they speculate.

Dennis Price

Saturday, January 10, 2015


Haiku is one of the most important form of traditional Japanese poetry. Haiku is, today, a 17-syllable verse form consisting of three metrical units of 5, 7, and 5 syllables. 

This is a Haiku form using three poems on a related theme all starting with the same first line.  I wrote it as a commentary on life.  I hope you enjoy.  Remember, read all poetry aloud for maximum effect.

Twisting leaf in wind.
Green, it moves with limb and twig
youth has strength to spare.

Twisting leaf in wind.
Red, it leaves its lofty perch
color to be seen.

Twisting leaf in wind.
Brown, it’s blown from place to place
no one knows it’s there.

Dennis Price

Thursday, January 8, 2015


It is in the 40's here today, but the windchill is much lower because of the wind.  I just went walking and my cheeks are still burning a little.  I know many of you are in the minus figures today.  I know of no better time to post this poem than now.  I hope you enjoy "Winter".


Autumn’s colored splendor fades away.
It’s coming; I hear the north wind’s song.
Bare branches stand against a canvas gray.
Days shorten; nights become too long.

Cool, crisp, sharp, raw, blue.
Varied harshness marks its passing here.
Weak ones sometimes do not make it through.
At times, it also brings the strongest fear.

Blinding brightness – Snow is on the ground.
Icy crystals bend the straining bough.
Silence broken by its tinkling sound.
Surreal, it manifests its beauty now.

The rudeness of its entrance dims at last
Warming gentle breezes bathe, heal.
God’s paints upon this dismal scene are cast.
From dormancy, a new life to reveal.

 Dennis Price

Wednesday, January 7, 2015

The Old Coot

When I get up with aches and pains and realize that I have been outdistanced by technology, I think of a poem I wrote some years ago.  I hope you can relate.

No More Vent Windows

I drove through the historic district
and realized I grew up there.

At a recent business meeting
a young associate said,
“Pawpaw, I think that’s your beeper going off.”

A guy cut me off in traffic today.
I called him a “moron”,
but, realized by modern standards
it was not harsh enough.

In my younger days
I would have chased him down
and jerked his pointy head through
the vent window.

There are no more vent windows.

Dennis Price

Monday, January 5, 2015

This is a painting by Francha Cavitt called "Tenderness".

As you continue to work in your planners for the new year, here is a poetic thought to influence your priorities.

Life’s Little Pleasures

We plan.
We work.
We save.
We dream.
But life is seldom as it seems.

A germ.
A gene.
A wayward act.
Can throw perceptions off their track.

A hug.
A kiss.
A tender word.
Can let us know we’re not alone.
That other’s dreams have not come true.

Life is life.
So on we go.
Not so sure of what’s in store.
But fearing less that great unknown.

Enjoying “little” more.

Dennis Price

Sunday, January 4, 2015

"Look at the lilies and how they grow. They don't work or make their clothing, yet Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are."  Luke 12: 27,

                                                NOT IN THINGS

Accumulating wealth won’t satisfy.
They are not ours these things we seek to gain.
But all are gifts delivered from on high.
And apt to leave us quickly as they came.

So we should love more,
pray more, share more
with our neighbors
as we’re blessed.

Thanking God for all that he has given.
Food and shelter as he sees we need it.
Teaching us the meaning of contentment.
Accumulating wealth won’t satisfy.

Dennis Price

Saturday, January 3, 2015

The New Year

Greetings to those who choose to stop by for a read now and then.  Happy New Year 2015.  It has been a while since I visited my blog too.  It is already the 3rd of January and I'm still trying to get started with a renewed program.  I hope all went well for you this year.  I have been blessed.  I found a poem from times past and I re-wrote it.  I do this on occasion to get my creative juices flowing.  I hope you can relate.  Remember to read all poetry aloud.  It enhances the experience.

Aging Memories

A century old sage
on his old Farmall cub
strokes his gray stubbled beard
stained with tobacco juice.

“Everything’s changed
Ain’t nothin’ the same
‘cept the tractor,
the house,
and the barn.”

He grins and spits.
“Got no teeth, but still chew.”

His old red tractor
chugs, sputters, and squeaks
much like he does.

Slowly, memories come.

Memories of childhood
clearer than yesterday.
The house as it once was.
His life as a young man.
Those in his family now
all passed away.

“Everything’s changed
ain’t nothin’ the same
not the tractor,
the house,
or the barn.”

Dennis Price