Poems from Songs of the Heart
Here are a few poems by Jerry Kenneth Price. If 30 people respond saying
they would like to purchase the entire work for $5.00, we will make it into an
e-book. Email us at path2@pathpublishing.com and we will place you on an
“interested” list. As Jerry says, “This book is dedicated with love to those
who have touched my life and by doing so have made it all the richer.”
Copyright © 2006 Jerry Kenneth Price
www.pathpublishing.com
path2@pathpublishing.com
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Songs of the Heart
The Fiddler
The neck cradled in a palm,
Callused and stained by sweat and rain.
Fingers pressed against the strings,
Placed first at the proper location.
Then the musician moves the bow
And fill the air with wonderful music
Here, in New Mexico.
Day is dawning
As the shadow of the mountain rushes across the white sand
And pumice rock of the valley below
To the tune of the “Orange Blossom Special.”
The Bridge built not by concrete and steel
But by the love of his fiddle that the fiddler feels.
He can call up “Old Joe Clark”
Or sitting at the kitchen table, “Boil the Cabbage Down.”
Whatever his music,
Friends are always glad to have him around.
Just “Bill,” to those who don’t know him well.
“Honey Bill” to the ones he truly loves.
A son, who we know well,
Sometimes picks up to play along.
With those fiddles in hand
They are nearest to Heaven, you can tell.
He has played “Cotton Eyed Joe”
At many a school house dance.
He was always eager to play one more,
If ever given the chance.
In the evening at sunset,
When the distant mountains
Take on the colors of red and orange,
“Faded Love” rings from the strings
As lovers are held in each other’s arms.
So this is the life of the Fiddler,
Who we all love and admire,
Somewhere out in the desert
In New Mexico.
A tribute to Bill Bates, older brother of Serena Bates Mayes, “The
Fiddler” was written on his birthday by a friend, Jerry K. Price.
Peace
Peace is a virtue not easily understood.
It is something in your heart
That you would draw out in the open if you could.
It is in the face of a sleeping infant,
The quietness of a winter snow,
The brightness of the heavens at night,
The sun’s warm glow.
Peace is so violently searched for,
And will be found when there is nothing more.
Peace will be found in the arms of God in Death!
Aberdeen, Maryland
February 23, 1986
City Lights
The lights of New York, a sight to see.
A great lady standing with her torch beckoning to me.
The neon flickering around Old Time Square,
Reflecting in the eyes of the crowds gathered there.
From the rich and famous to the skid-row bum,
What is the attraction for all these people to come?
It must be the lights, as I have stated before.
For what other reason would they come here for?
I have seen a crescent moon rising over New Orleans,
Seen the same site in Dallas and Houston.
I’ve been around.
L.A. and Frisco,
Lights of St. Paul,
Denver, Chicago,
I have seen them all!
Silver Arch in St. Louis reflecting the setting sun,
A beckoning symbol for all to come.
I consider myself lucky to have traveled at night,
Affording myself to these wonderful sights.
For the lights of a city,
Whether great or small,
Reflects on itself most of all.
As one travels this country,
The best night-lit town you can behold
Is simply the one you call your own.
August 8, 1987
I see it coming on this distant horizon, like the cold, blue summer storm
Filled with strong winds,
Hail and lighting crashing down,
Inflicting fear
Like you have never experienced
Since the day that you were born.
For a moment it comes so fast,
Then eases back for a little while.
As you stand watching,
You forget that it is over there not more than a mile
But sometimes it seems
That it will take forever
For that refreshing rain to pass
Over the creek to your place today
To bring a blessed relief
On this still, hot, sultry day.
I cannot help but think
How life’s work
Might be the very same way.
With life being the approaching storm,
And death being the relief,
Much like the rain which is on the way.
July 1, 1987
Snowfall
Did you ever sit quietly and listen to snow fall?
Out where there was no one but you at all?
Where the world around you was still, cold and white,
And the slightest light from the heavens would light the night.
A passing rabbit scratches for a meal
And scurries away after eating his fill.
The flapping wings of an owl in the distance,
All is quiet once more in an instant.
You stand amazed at the world around,
And thank God Above for this moment you have found where
Time stands still on this landscape
Of new fallen snow, and
You feel peace within yourself grow.
January 8, 1988
Half a century of toil and strife
As mother and wife.
Now, after 50, all has changed
And the feeling of loneliness is the pain and the price.
As now she feels life has passed her by,
Sometimes in her solitude
She sits and cries.
Gone are the days of raven hair,
Replaced by gray sprinkled here and there.
Gone is the youthful figure she was once so proud of,
Replaced here and there with a little bulge.
She still has a lot of love to give,
But waning is the desire she had for years.
She feels so alone
Since the children are gone.
Being a mother was the harmony in her song.
There are only left the two of them.
To start all over in love and lust
There seems no way for them to adjust.
Yet in this union, two lives must continue
To survive. Only now,
She is but a wife.
Giving to each other only,
A love that once had to be shared
With the children of this union here.
They, looking at their accomplishments
In the past,
Thank God Above, daily,
That they finally have
One another at last.
March 24, 1988
About the Poet
Jerry K. Price born in 1941 in Dyersburg, Tennessee. He has traveled throughout these
United States, Africa and South America, pursuing his career as a licensed Professional
Land Surveyor. He is semi-retired and living in Jackson, Tennessee, where he teaches
an adult Sunday School class and serves as a deacon in his church. Jerry started keeping
a journal of his writings in 1980 and has only made his poetry available to the public recently.
We hope you enjoyed the poems from Songs of the Heart.
And hereby we know that we do know him, if we keep his commandments.
1 John 2:3