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Best Albert Price Poems

Below are the all-time best Albert Price poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Words would fail me if I might assay
To articulate the courage of this man.
The numerous facets of his dossier
Are subject for song in a distant land.
Awakened in youth from serene dreams
By the melodious blast of Israel’s horn.
Tall standing received earth’s esteems,
Accepting God’s charge wherefore he was born.

His marble image cleaves the bluest sky,
And his halo is now a crown about his brow.
His peace of mind earth can no longer deny,
For he has now fulfilled his earthly vow.
It can only suppose with the midnight of the mind,
What may be reason’s welcome morning  star.
One day he may return even more divine,
With a holier task from God who reigns from afar.

There’s no thunder heard from Sinai’s height,
And we see no parting waves at Jordan’s bank.
We have followed no truer soldier in our darkest night,
And now are marching on bravely in file and rank.
Rolling on in faith toward the welcome dawn,
The good fight won he’s earned the honor of Moses.
Now trekking  the soul’s desert to the divine throne,
He follows God’s light up the street of yellow roses.

Copyright © Albert Price | Year Posted 2011

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My Lord, you are the Poet,
Who notes me with thy strong hands.
I can only aspire to know it 
And extend thy word to all known lands.

You have set in me for the sun
A tabernacle for his regal throne,
From which he arises for his daily run
Throughout heaven's every zone.

Each morn I await his excellent ascent.
Onward with his golden lamp of God,
He begins at one end of the firmament
And runs on with the light of Aaron's rod.

Copyright © Albert Price | Year Posted 2009

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Astronomers maintain that we came from the sun;
Cast out from a whirling cloud of flammable gas;
Bearing on until all the solar system was spun;
Forming bodies as the whirling became a rushing mass.
Yet after billions of years our source is yet unknown,
According to these researchers even at this day.
To them we took flight like a white hot stone
And soared and circled in a beautiful display.

But believers know by Moses the first great plan;
How heaven and earth came in the beginning,
When there was no light until God’s command,
And no high energy vapors turning and spinning.
John said that light was the life of men;
A true light that came shining into the darkness.
A shining the darkness was unable to comprehend,  
Because its understanding lacked needful fitness.

Moving below the vernal earth bathed in the light--
This light which had not yet established a source--
Whose effect meant the cause would soon be in sight,
When God would enthrone the sun without remorse.
He gave it dominion over the sky of the day;
Thus the sun became our great light bearer,
Whose golden gift brightens the day travelers’ way,
And often leads man’s quest for wisdom into error.

Copyright © Albert Price | Year Posted 2009

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Build me an engine –lady of my dream,

Let it be powered by eternal steam.

May patience be your tool of design,

Planning completeness with a cunning mind.

To drive the pistons of a soul’s production,

We need fire with extreme combustion.

This fire from the fervor of powerful prayer

Will create the steam with warmth to spare.

The engine comes to life with a blast and a toot,

And begins to harvest the spiritual fruit.

Run on my soul, with speed aplenty;

For the harvest is rich and the prayers are many.

Copyright © Albert Price | Year Posted 2008

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Easy comes beauty in youth’s natural spring,
But with age its mellow dimensions grow.
Like to a bud, a full bloom, age will bring.
With grace its beauty does ebb and glow,
Its liberty allows its new functions to show.
Mature beauty is and will be admired always,
Youth’s beauty and its esteem goes to and fro,
But ageless deeper beauty has endless days.

Mature beauty has a melody to sing,
And this it releases so that you will know,
The elegance and blessing of its echo’s ring.
The evidence of a mind is part of its show,
For it opens tastefully with a view to bestow.
Ageless beauty never lacks for praise.
The beauty of life’s spring may lose its glow,
But ageless deeper beauty has endless days.

In poetry and melody its praises we bring,
For mature beauty’s many dimensions we know.
With fervid dignity I see it take to wing,
Giving the young buds an inspiring show.
May you long guide youth as they grow,
Leading them in elegance the celestial ways.
So youth will  know how easy beauty may go,
But ageless deeper beauty has endless days.

Now young buds aspire to full blooms grow,
And become worthy of nature’s timeless praise.
Allow your charm in majesty and grace to glow,
And may your ageless beauty have endless days.

Copyright © Albert Price | Year Posted 2008

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Golden objects are most outstanding,
But without loving, they are missing flavor.
But let’s not forget stunning silver,
That the maid often loves to savor.
And brilliant copper, with its rosy sheen,
That every craftsman should well know.
But cold iron, as Kipling likes to say,
From all of these, takes the show.
Not mentioned yet, but not to be overlooked,
Is platinum, our bright and lustrous pal.
Thought to be impure for thousands of years,
But now more valuable than them all.

Copyright © Albert Price | Year Posted 2006

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THE HAND, A Mechanical Genius

To God I am thankful for many gifts;
But none more than a creative mind,
And the hands which are the finest tool,
With abilities to create that I easily can find.

As a child I first learned to cherish
My God-given opposable thumb,
Knowing how versatile a device
It is for whacking a fortuitous homerun.

And stubby fingers were early to meet,
And with artistic freedom employ,
All the many vividly colored crayons
To make graphic forms and scenes to enjoy.

And off running into the world of nature,
My hands kept quite busy in work and play.
Without them I found that I couldn’t climb
Nor protect myself in the occasional fray.

My hands loved to tighten and repair my bike,
Seeming to be a mechanic of special training,
Taught by a higher intelligence unknown
For handling every task without complaining.

With maturity the hand becomes more adept,
A magical marvel for all creation to behold.
And in God’s world of many forms to grasp,
It becomes an unique gift worth more than gold.

Then you find there’s nothing your hands can’t do,
‘Cause God has made them in His special way,
With the same loving care you make toys for a child,
Who might find nothing any better for hours of play.

We need to show God that we feel very blessed,
That He was the architect of this precious treasure;
So that we may join with Him in majestic fashion,
Giving the world with fervent impact endless pleasure.

Copyright © Albert Price | Year Posted 2012

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Even precious jewels cannot approach their value,
For the women of merit are priced beyond them.
Their beauty is found in the works of love they do,
And in their smile facing the future that is never dim.
Most arise at dawn when it is still like the night
And wrap round them bands of strength like corsets.
Going out like the cargo ships before daylight,
They conduct their business for handsome profits.

Their beauty is matched by their hearts filled with virtue,
For there is rich wisdom and mercy on her tongue.
Their clothing soft fair linen of purple and blue,
And open are their hands to needy they live among.
Men give them praise and children give them honor,
Since her public reputation is all to her credit.
Eschewing evil for the good at every corner,
They ply their gifts toward works of merit.

Oh to be her partner in labor and pleasure,
For her fire will not go out for the night.
Her company for sure has profit in full measure,
And lifts high the muse of good cheer’s delight.
Faith is her deserved and hard-earned reward,
For her strength and self-respect passes the test.
About her worth there is candid accord,
Among women her title is the very best.

Copyright © Albert Price | Year Posted 2011

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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.

These treasures have become a fond remembrance,

Over the years since my grandma left for elysian lands.

It intrigues me how these patchworks of varying textures

Became such sources of hospitable warmth and amenity.

They stir my sentimental thoughts about many distinct folk

That I recall from my youth who became my extended family.

They kept me feeling comfortable and warm with attentive care,

Much like the quilts my grandma made with many a fabric square.

Copyright © Albert Price | Year Posted 2010

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Here the sun shines soft and warm—
Caressing all in vales and on hill—
It gives a glow to every inherent form—
And reveals for every eye a thrill.
Of here they never get their fill—
For this is Bliss, an endless treasure—
Where our dream is the Lord’s will—
And God rules by His divine pleasure.

The garden is a lush, green platform—
Big blooms with the fluffiness of chenille—
Songbirds’ music raise a storm—
Their feathered robes fill the bill.
Wings spread they fly away at freewill—
Along the curvy course of the river—
They seek the Lord’s grace with skill—
And God rules by His divine pleasure.

The dream cottage, fancy for the norm—
With a stone paved path to the doorsill—
A neat little shelter from the storm—
Has a spice garden for basil and dill.
And there’s a gazebo for time to kill--
For when gardenwork calls for leisure—
Or even for the blessing of a drizzle—
And God rules by His divine pleasure.

To some this vision may instill—
A yearning for the bliss in nature—
But the Lord is sovereign still—
And God rules by His divine pleasure.

Copyright © Albert Price | Year Posted 2007