What Is Elijah Doing Here?

Here Elijah is reclining on his bed,

Waiting for the Divine to pass,

Enjoying the wind rushing by his head,

Stirring the the meadow’s tall grass.

As the ground quietly but suddenly moves,

And a shudder takes control of his heart,

He wonders what this episode proves,

As his expectations go off the chart.

The panorama of Naboth’s vineyard

Gives him a certain tremor still.

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poem by Albert Price
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Horizon of Ingenuity

God’s new day awaits at the horizon’s gate.
The star of freedom rests amid the dawn.
It has been no less than a 400 year wait,
For a sign this age is about to be born.

No nation can expect to exist forever,
If all of its people are not totally free.
Chaining another’s neck is not clever;
For God’s liberty you will no longer see.

From the slave cabin to the prison cell,
God’s people’s journey has been.
Satan taught the bondman well—
Why America couldn’t possibly win.

Now the bodies of the oppressed demand rights,
And their oppressed souls are looking for peace.

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poem by Albert Price
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Christmas Eve

Snow flakes seem to do a majestic dance in the air;
Or so it appears at the opening of the chapel door.
Gingerly walking down the front marble stair,
I head into the darkness with holiday joy in store.

Warmed by the spirit of celebrating the Holy Birth,
I ride the bus homeward through the pristine snow.
The street scene is one of colorful lights and mirth,
With a bitter gust of wind pushing one and all to and fro.

It feels as if it's the same over the entire universe;
Nothing but serenity and delight up and down the street,
As I run to my door before the weather gets worse.
Oh the joy of being home at Christmas in my cozy retreat.

Off I go to slumber comfortably in the warmth of my bed.
With dreams of cherubs and angels caroling in a sleigh
And visions of my girl Celesta dancing stately in my head,
I am entertained by thoughts of the joy of the coming day.

poem by Albert Price
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The Delight of Crossword Puzzles

Since 1913 the crosswords have beguiled our minds,
Moreover, giving our word power a needed boost.
So our lexicon goes thru nimbleness of all kinds,
Searching dearly to come up with words of little use.

Of course every solver has his own personal style,
So as to enjoy the commonly encountered sense of awe.
Completing the corners first may award you a smile,
As the central clues are allowed time to fully thaw.

It's said these games have stimulated us for a hundred years,
Guiding us along from social studies and current events,
To virtually trekking the north and south hemispheres,
And keeping our minds dancing over segments of suspense.

May these games continue to stoke the flames of human wit,
While employing a hint of humor to coax us to deeper study.
Enjoying the endless border crossings with no need for permit,
We cross the world's deserts and swamps never getting muddy.

poem by Albert Price
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Grandma's Quilt

God blessed me with a grandma of many talents,

And one of them always left me thoroughly amazed.

It was the way she collected square scraps of cloth

To make quilts that seemed worthy of praise.

Each with its own colors and textures,

Of rare beauty in pattern and design,

She formed them with love

Into a tapestry of aesthetics sublime.

These squares of fabric became a work of art

In my grandma’s talented and trained hands.

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poem by Albert Price
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A Prayer For Sufficient Grace

Teach us, O Lord, the newness of wisdom;
Bestow on us daily the power of the mind.
Keep us humble by the knowledge of creation;
On your sustenance allow us to continually dine.

Pour into us the divine light- your first creation,
That very first fruit of your heavenly artistry.
And open our mind's gate to your dominion
So we may partake of your inventive mastery.

Unlike man all your works are judged very good;
May we share your vision so to share your gift?
Let the works of our hands be not mere vanity,
But the product of hands that help and minds swift.

Pardon our selfish desires we no longer need;
Allow us to avail ourselves of the new libation,
That comes pouring over the fountain of goodness,
Moving as it cascades toward utmost consolation.

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poem by Albert Price
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The Day Called Pentecost

The apostles of the Lord were still in much distress,
And fearing their heritage was lost to shame.
Hearing the trumpet of Zion they understood it not;
Seeing the spoken tongue they thought it a flame.

But this great sound made them all come there in awe;
And all were surprised to understand the words being said,
For they were there from many lands knowing one another not,
And were all full of wonder at the feelings that they had.

Then began the chief apostle to preach the Book of Joel as text,
Speaking loudly of the last days and the anointing of all flesh.
He explains that these are but signs on earth and heavenly wonders,
Before the blood and the pillars of smoke begin to thresh.

The apostle then begins to teach the knowledge of God,
And how only through prayer do we have a chance to be saved.
He goes on to remind us of the Man who gave His life on the cross,
And received it back from God to show us the eternal road is paved.

poem by Albert Price
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The Threshold of Graduation

The arrival of spring greeted again and again,
Each day at the awakening of twilight,
With the songbird’s sweet refrain,
Much to the morning glory’s delight.
But their unmindfulness of this date
Is not shared by the assemblage of students,
Who at this threshold proudly wait
To see the matter formed of their prudence.

About this matter now we ponder-
Marvelously formed in equal steps,
Such that candidates stand and wonder
How to hold it within their precepts.
Then with thoughts of the Most Sublime,
They see skinless, boneless sheep
And know this matter depends not on time,
And begin to fathom that providence is deep.

So through the threshold they step in line,
Equally spaced to receive that common reward.

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poem by Albert Price
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Dés Nus

L'horizon orange a tout juste commencé à briller,
Et Dés met sur son manteau, ses seuls vetements,
Et commence à s'écarter pour son maison tout près.
Son but tous les soirs n'est connue que par le créateur.

Parce qu'elle a des taches de rousseur partout,
Dés, je l'appelle, et rien plus. Tous les soirs, ses traces viennent à mon escalier.
Elle est dans non plus qu'un manteau, debout à ma porte.

Elle pose et se moque sa nudite,
Comme si c'etait sa proper invention.
Et Nous passons la nuit dans un bonheur tranquille,
Étant donné que c'est le cas, elle obtient mes félicitations.

Sa belle silhouette brille comme la Lune.
Et dans l'affichage de l'érotisme de le crépuscule,
Comme le déjà-vu d'une chanson de familier,
Embellit mes soirées de cette façon.

Le lever du jour toujours semble trop proche,

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poem by Albert Price
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Great Women - Young and Old

The lights of Bethlehem still burn,
For Ruth’s mother-in-law to return.

Since her unfettered faith, so strong,
Convinced Ruth, with her, to come along.

Facing bravely the consequences of God’s plan,
Ruth, with Naomi, went to the Promised Land.

To live on in Bethlehem was their decision,
Both seeking to receive God’s provision.

God doesn’t stop being God in adversity
Is what Naomi taught Ruth to believe.

So there in Bethlehem, Ruth sought for a man
To help her with the consequences of God’s plan.

And Boaz of Bethlehem, Naomi’s rich kinsman,
Found Ruth to be both charming and winsome.

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poem by Albert Price
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