Biography of Albert Price
The reason that I write is to promote harmony and to uplift the spirits of humanity. My desire is to persuade others to elevate their thoughts and meditations toward the Eternal Creator.
The topics that I am challenged by are such things as beauty, romance, fertility, resurrection, nature, peace, spirituality, and eternity. And my greatest desire is that people enjoy my work-enough so that it impels the mind and releases or unclasps the soul.
Albert Price Poems
When Nature Resounds
God has graced Nature with beauty and utmost esteem. A crown has rested upon her head all her life long.
Ode To Mrs. Obama
Our first image of a gorgeous black Aphrodite To inhabit the halls of power with charm, Mrs. Obama moves over the sacred fields deftly Reclaiming the realm with femininine form.
An Ode To Mother
It seems the angels were singing a song, And their melody pleased God’s ears; Singing of to whom such love belong, They could subdue all pain and fears.
Let The Bad Girl Win Now And Then
She seems a little wild once in a while, But men are nice just once or twice. Then forgiving is the best part of love, And it’s flavored by bad girl’s spice.
Metro Carpet Ride
When you wonder why I soar beyond the sky, Feel free to inquire and a secret will be told. It’s a mystery to me but I’ll give it a try, And unfold for you a story that’s ages old.
Albert's Dry Bones
My ship reached your lush and comforting shore, But my flesh had no more left than dry bones.
Ballade Of Mature Beauty
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,
God blessed me with a grandma of many talents, And one of them always left me thoroughly amazed.
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,
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.
Ode To The Poinsettia
Across the lowly equator they have flown, The days of sweltering heat and butterflies. And the poinsettia shows all it green display, Without the brightness of its yellow eyes.
Rachab Of Jericho
Deliberately inching its way toward break of day, The morning sun begins to emblazon the barley field. Relaxing and watching the orb find its way, The lady of the house waits for night to yield.
Hummocks Of Nirvana
Lush hillocks to titillate your feet, Shadows of trees admiring your curves, Waterfalls under which all speech is sweet, Sooth away the encroaching nerves.
Ever indebted I am to her beauty, An eternal gratuity to her furtive grace. She who spun this globe so astutely, From saccharine thoughts beyond time and space.
My Nimble Moon
So lovely you grace the height of glory,
Repeating nightly to the listening earth the wondrous story.
I read in your looks a knowing judge of love,
A knowledge acquired by eyes peering long from above.
Then, with pretty flight, you perch the throne
And listen to the musings of the owl in his somber tone.
His song to you makes the crickets sing,
And a harp plays as God tunes the strings.
Gleam forever, moon of my fancy dreams,