Tag: Poetry

And The Winners Are…

Timothy Price60 Comments

Spunk waiting with AantíiciipÁation!

Gabriela announced the winners of her Woman: Splendor and Sorrow: | Love Poems and Poetic Prose poetry contest this morning. I am very excited to announce that I shared Third Place with D. Wallace Peach. Congratulations to Virginia Mateias for her First Place poem, and Ingrid Wilson, and Eric Daniel Clarke for their Second Place poems. You can read all the poems at: The Winners of The Poetry Contest Woman: Splendor and Sorrow: | Love Poems and Poetic Prose.

My poem is One Side Sacred The Other Side Profane inspired by Gabriela’s poem Between Sacred and Profane. I based my poem on W. Eugene Smith’s activism against mercury poisoning in Minamata, Japan in the 1970s. He published a book titled Minamata: Life Sacred and Profane in 1972 that brought the issue worldwide attention. I first saw the book when I was a photo student at the University of New Mexico in the early 1980s. I wanted to buy a copy of the book back then, but I couldn’t afford it as a student. Now copies sell for hundreds of dollars, so I still don’t have one. W. Eugene Smith was one of the most important American photojournalists of the 20th Century. I don’t think he ever took a bad photo. His County Doctor series is brilliant. Chisso employees attacked and beat Smith in 1972. Smith lost sight in one eye and never really recovered. He died in 1978 at the tender age of 59. His death was a huge loss to the world of photography.

Dawn

We have cloudy skies tonight. The photos below are from last night before I encountered the zombies and sprites.

Christine’s Tree with the moon in the background. Mia’s Tree under Venus. Christine’s Tree with a bicycle in the background.

Sunset

All Hallows Eve Calls

Timothy Price83 Comments

On All Hallows Eve, the Tangle Heart Tree catches spirits and holds them until Prime’s light collects them.

Sun sets, darkness falls
All Hallows Eve calls
Thirsty spirits to scratch and claw at the walls of Sheol
Licking sweet honied milk poured from sorcerer’s bowl
Conjured spirits slip through holes
Prey on wandering, long lost souls
Free to find and eat their fills
Until Prime’s light reclaims their wills
Sun rises spirits pulled asunder
Sorcerer’s bowl lies emptied, plundered

The Incognito Pear tree is under on All Hallows Eve where the spirits get tangled trying to get out of Sheol.

Santa Cynthia prays all night on All Hallows Eve for our souls to be safe from the spirits released by sorcerers’ milk and honey.

Hitman posted on MasticadoresUsa // Editora: Gabriela Marie Milton

Timothy Price37 Comments

A big thanks to Gabriela, who also has Short Prose Blog, for posting Hitman on MasticadoresUsa // Editora: Gabriela Marie Milton.

I was inspired to write this song after reading an article in the New York Post by Isabel Vincent about Julio Santana who retired as a hitman after 47 years. The story fascinated me, and the fact that he could live long enough to retire without getting knocked off seemed incredible. I worked on this song for over two years. The lyrics and music went through many rewrites before I came up with the final version of the song. Whether Julio’s story is real or not, Ms. Vincent wrote about it and I put it into a song.

Saved From Hell’s Fire Rhyme

Timothy Price76 Comments

Miss Mousie (House Mouse, Mus musculus) in our grill in her nest of pink insulation after I had removed her nest and five tiny mouselettes so I could use the grill. She and her mouselettes were lucky the insulation kept the third burner from lighting before I saw her nest of insulation and turned off the other two burners.

Little Miss Mousie faced the flames of hell
Under cover of an accommodating grill
The third burner it didn’t light
Covered in insulation she stole in the night
Mouselettes were lucky they were not well done
As I gathered them up one by one

I moved them to a waiting pan
With pink insulation she had on hand
I put them in a safe place well hidden
While I grilled the thighs of a Costco chicken
Cleaned the grill shut off the gas
With the mouselettes tucked deep in the grass

I put things in order, went in for the night
I fed the cats, I turned out the lights
When morning came I wasn’t thrilled
To find that Little Miss Mousie was back in the grill.

Silver: “You saved mouselettes instead of grilling them for me? What kind of low life, pathetic, paparazzo, loser of a cat herder are you, anyway?”

Me: “I’m not going to murder innocent little mouselettes who you wouldn’t eat, anyway! Besides, Shey’s Dudes would never forgive me.”

Silver: “Well I think I’m insultated you morbid, mouselette mothering Monothelite!”

Me: “Do you mean ‘Philistine’? I’ve never heard of insulting anyone by calling him a ‘Monothelite’ other than by you completing an alliteration!

Silver: “Are you saying I’m ‘alliterate’? Now I’m doubly instultated! You profligate, pink, pasty skinned prelate of Peromyscus!”

Me: “OK! You’re not ‘alliterate’! BTW, while on the subject of morbid mothering, Silver, the last rather large mouse you carried in the house from the catio like it was a wee little kitten is still hanging out under the stove in the kitchen.”

Silver: “I thought that was a gopher? My bad!”

Contemplating Eschaton

Timothy Price56 Comments

Sunrise

Prime time loosed Laudes shades
Colors fly on clouds at dawn
Sunflowers’ faces looking east
Contemplating eschaton

Drama of their world
Between what is and what will be
A risen sun, the end of summer
From Terce to Sext to Nones is eternity

Arcoíris pulls on Vespers
Eternal promise lights cut dim
Sun checks out at Compline
Martins tucks it in

Sunflowers tall bow their heads
Rooted firmly holding sand
Contemplating darkness see
The end is at hand

Sunset