*_Mining for understanding*_
There is a mine for silver and a place where gold is refined.
Iron is taken from the earth, and copper is smelted from ore.
But where can wisdom be found? Where does understanding dwell?
No mortal comprehends its worth; it cannot be found in the land of the living.
The deep says, "It is not in me"; the sea says, "It is not with me."
It cannot be bought with the finest gold, nor can its price be weighed out in silver.
It cannot be bought with the gold of Ophir, with precious onyx or lapis lazuli.
Neither gold nor crystal can compare with it, nor can it be had for jewels of gold.
Coral and jasper are not worthy of mention; the price of wisdom is beyond rubies.
The topaz of Cush cannot compare with it; it cannot be bought with pure gold.
____
Descriptive Poem: Job 28:1-2,12-19
Blue the color of the brilliant boundless sky
To look at the heavens with a heartfelt sigh.
Blue of the vast briny ocean
Teeming with marine life always in motion.
Blue feathers of an iridescent hummingbird,
Large Blue Macaw parrot or beautiful musical bluebird.
Blue spring vibrant Empire Blue Butterfly Bush
Attracting winged pollinators scented cush.
Blue color gives out a feel of peace, tranquility,
And quiescence serenity.
3/13/2024
We are love-tied doves
immaculately clad in white
toward our flight as a couple to witness
altar date, sealed with “till death do us part.”
While flying, our feathers radiate blest serenity
showcasing azure sky that has conquered gray clouds
vivified by rainbow colors accentuated by golden beams
midst kaleidoscopic hues of scarlet, blended with orange-crimson blast.
With gratitude to the heavenly Creator
our tweets of praise* join cyan firmament
ablaze with flaxen yellow along green freshness
conquering indigo tints against fading violet and lavender gleam.
Wishing wellness for all in glowing daylight
praying for sunny mood even beyond pink of health
on we settle to behold wedding, defying challenges’ blues
at the Palace in the Sky**, adorned with roses in vibrant colors.
*Psalm 150:6 Let every thing that hath breath praise the LORD. Praise ye the LORD.
**Palace in the Sky is now People’s Park in the Sky (Palace in the Sky in Tagaytay - Cush Travel Blog)
December 7, 2022
5th place, "YOUR CHOICE 2022" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 12/24/2022.
Wake up and start it over again
The scratching I can do with my pen.
The task always seems to be undone.
There remain so many miles to run.
I have the stone to push up the hill
I have lands that wait for the till.
Every day tasks start over again
When we wake up and then
We see where we are
And we try to go far.
But it’s back at the bottom of the mountain
It’s back to searching for a fountain.
With waters we can’t know, that taste of highest gold.
Waters that burn golden yellow, waters that are always cold.
Fill up your cup, have a drink with me.
The waters are no longer stopped up. Even if I might Sisyphus be.
It’s my stone and it’s easy for me to push.
Once you’re used to it, the job seems cush.
It starts over again when I wake up with my pen.
My hand was empty when I fell asleep, so what’s this then?
As soon as the cold bold lights start streaming in
Waking me up, making my morning begin.
I find that I couldn’t stop my mind
Even sleeping there are things to unbind.
And that’s why I write as I write
From morning til noon, til deep in the night.
I wake up and it starts over again.
I need to hear the scratching of my pen.
The pouring rain turned to haze, the sun rises only to set
What we imagine, chasing dragons but in reality just forget
Noble kings to worn out jeans, all the fabric we never protect
The blood within, these evil men it's the passion they collect
The butterfly bush to Alaskan cush in kaleidescope eyes
The Jokers suit and Dinosaurs too, perfect purple disguise
Grapes at noon turn to prunes then raisins thereafter
The wisdom mood to light up rooms with all the laughter
The darkest bruise changes hues only makeup covers
A color too, mixed up red and blue become eternal lovers
Written for Contest: Purple on 1/16/19
Hosted by: Kevin Shaw
Before any known thing was evident
God existed for all time never began
He rested on the seventh day made it holy
the Lord had created Adam the first man
But God created a garden in Eden
in a moment He planted it in the east
Adam came there to work on it
this God's plan for Adam at very least
At first, there was nothing at all there
until God displayed His creative hand
then there were trees of every kind
oak and fir and ash all to stand
Then water appeared to water all there
it divided into four rivers no less
which flowed into its tributaries indeed
God watered Eden sharing its real dress
Rivers aplenty began with Pishon
flowing around Havilah full of gold
next came Gihon covered all of Cush
then was Tigris and Euphrates this is told
Now disaster struck this godly garden
God had made woman from Adam and grown
these two did what God said no to and sinned
so Jesus later took this sin to sure atone
Fantastic Farm Which Was Cush
Lived on land and farm which was cush,
And by George last name had been Bush;
Had a hanker,
To people pander;
Enter politics from family received a push.
Jim Horn
The President and Price
By Franklin Price
9/29/2017
The President is still at fault
When swamp creatures deviate
And abuse what is expected
Knowingly attempting fate
It was Price and travel this time
For others, other things
When they are found to be at fault
They lose their royal rings
They lose their cush positions
Lose their golden rainbow pot
That they stole from we the people
There's now been quite a lot
I can't help but be amazed
The reason's crystal clear
Because Trump is the President
All staff should quake with fear
The establishment is after Trump
Don't want him in the chair
Will sacrifice most anyone
Appointed by him there
They point their fingers at him
Say the cabinet acts that way
Because he let's them do it
Why do we let him stay?
Presidents have all abused
Their world exalted place
Some were found out later
To have egg upon their face
We should all be thankful
That Trump won't have that fun
The press and pawns are after him
Disclosing all and everyone
Won't get the chance to cover up
No Watergate for Trump
No one lets it get that far
No impeachment, just a bump
Thoughts of Politicians by Proxy
(President-House-Senate)
By Franklin Price
8/17/2016
(forward)
I'm not a politician
Would never want to be
By looking at their actions
These are the thoughts I see
(proxy thoughts)
What a cush job I have got
Don't have to work so much
The money's good from everywhere
Barely have to stay in touch
Expense account is limitless
Just has to look like work
Have staff that do the thinking
So I don't look like a jerk
The rich who want my favors
Come to my office on the hill
Say I can do a lot for you
If you could only pass this bill
See I get this contract
With a cost plus on the page
And the good things that will come to you
Could not be foretold by a sage
Don't worry about the people
This phrase I say by rote
I memorized, “I'm here for you”
If it's close in time to vote
(epilogue)
There's so much more that I could say
But I'll no longer waste my words
We the people could change everything
If we quit following in herds
ALONG CAME YONDA
I recall to mind
the nite after the general elections
came a man to me - the name Yonda
Talked of Abyssinia and Cush..
the twin lions enthroned on the -
sacred mountain... talked of the eagle...
and the dragon rising to the air....
talked of changing fortunes for my people..
he departed after extracting
from me a promise.. a mention
in my yet to be written book.....
...the book of the mistari...
The seer Yonda - is...
Romour-ed to be the greatest seer
East and South east Asia
Lewis k Nyaga
Birth Pranks!
labour....a baby cries
then popcorn of exploding smiles
yet, he's wary of lies
will he quickly talk
before he can do anything or walk
to tell if he is his folk?
"why not like his brother
nor at least the face of his mother
or me his ugly father!?"
common labour pranks,
aftermath of protracted labour pangs
is wagging of tongues!
*
let's wallow in mirth
not by small but by a large girth
for the infantile birth.
recalling the pot
burned on fire to simmer hot
and cook this lot.
womb is not defied
cankered or be it of lineage wild
that yielded the child.
no sooner is he out
than there is the malignant doubt;
"this is not dad's snout!"
law of the bush:
baby survives overturned in a rush;
in atavism check by Cush!
**Conceived when a friend's wife gave birth at home. The poem casts a slur to rural births that took place those years when a child had to really resemble his father.......! Infant mortality and divorces then were pretty.
13th September 2013
When I was a child I lacked so many things
And I thought growing up would remedy them
That love would come on sweet angel wings
And I suddenly rich would rule a great realm
But must of all that I would not walk barefoot
Or drink again that milk-less tea of insipid bush
There would be a safe place my dreams to put
And mother would not derogate the skin of Cush.
Oh! this cry that aches my heart,
folded fist, the size of my pie
kick,kick..I just can't fight,
this swaddling cloth beside my thigh.
Sssssh... and I'll sing you a lullaby,
Christmas carol or ocean drive,
kick,kick...oh! I cannot fight,
this swaddling cloth before my eyes.
shake shake....I beam with a smile,
furious cries and teary eyes,
kick kick and a fart with ease,
this swaddling cloth I cannot resist.
rock rock, I lay it to sleep,
kisses and affection,showers from me,
its gentle head upon the breast,
this swaddling babe, my heart's gem.