I've known Pris ever since joining the Mipo poetry workshop. We learned that we suffered from the same arthritis--ankylosing spondylitis, and were suffering from illness at the same time this spring. She's been helpful in analyzing and mentoring my poetic style; she's been mindful of my state of being while ill, being operated on, and through the recovery. Thank you for this!
Pris is a prestigious poet in her own right. She began writing poetry in the fall of 1999 and has been published in print and internet publications such as August Poetry, Limestone Circle, Blackmail Press, Verse Libre, Niederngasse, The Dakota House, Muses Kiss, Peshekee River Poets, Verse Libre, Short Stuff, MiPo Weekly and Digital, Lotus Blooms, The Dead Mule, Women of the Web Anthology, Best of MiPo Anthology and the yearly International War Vets Poetry Anthology.
Her poetry has garnered many recognitions, placing first or second in several regional and intra-board poetry competitions.
Pris is a Clinical Psychologist and sailor/traveler. However, her chronic fatigue illness, coupled with arthritis, has forced her to temporarily park her vagabond shoes. She makes her home in the greater West Palm Beach, Florida , USA.
Pris, happy belated birthday.
"Snapshots"
by Michael Parker
Vintage, sepia-stained pictures await her
morsels of wisdom, her reawakening of
memories time races to forget--
she raises the spark in the eyes
she remembers to be her fathers’;
and raises the image of a mentor
of whom she states in passing
her journey makes "stars quiver."
Her nature knows too well, be kind.
Aging means we say goodbye
too frequently, see the thinning
of our heart we’ve passed out
too trustingly like a sacrament.
Though friends enter and leave like tides
stay steady upon this shore. Stay long
into the evening enough to interpret
the language off the sea, the wind, the storm.
And with your hand to the air, commanding
the sky, whisper the magical haiga--
give our childhood tree back its charm;
show us our way back to the dance
where Elvis sang and the jitterbug
shook us into the thrill of night;
grace us with courage to live as if
we’ve never known hurt; and take us
back to days sitting on the steps of
the white bible school awaiting treats
without a hint of the hurricane
we lose our future to.
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