You don’t have to buy the land
to own the changing landscape
Whose vista priceless yours inside
to live in mortgage free
Or fly a rocket toward the sun
to view each day’s horizon
That comes and goes both East and West
in transitory joy
You don’t have to buy a car
to travel to tomorrow
New pathways wait beyond conveyance
old footsteps in the sand
Or buy a boat and sail the seas
to hear the ocean’s roar
The transience of each crashing wave
— a gift unwrapping free
(Ronald McDonald House: August, 2025)
Time and time again
Rhyme and rhyme I gain
The old words I put together
Their fluff and their leather
In their old conveyance business
Arranging them in a newness
Over and over again
Offer and offer I gain
Divine providence
Manifest in lyrical evidence
Manifest in reader approval
A staying power without removal
Circle and back again
Chuckle and buck I gain
Joy and reward
Trade and meaning all aboard
A gift that keeps on giving
A life that I am living
K. Muitherero
sailboat,
dear conveyance
of my dimmed dreams,
glide freely 'neith the sun
I'll watch as you sail away
with my heart
He said a solemn goodbye to his purple steed,
a trike, now, the only conveyance he'd need,
and there would only be just one other small thing,
a little Red Ryder pulled by a string -
and the wind would whistle through holes in his head
as he rode through the town with his wagon of red.
Nah it aint that
if you wanna be
real and all
you tell me to
call you on the telly
you never pick up
when I call
Change the definition
of Love
to yo' own conveyance
All that woman is
ricca monroe jazz
Dude tryna build
a relationship
ya'll say he either moving
too slow
or he moving to fast
You're still the one
the only one
top-me, number one
on toppa the stack
Don't you label me
as someone your
freinds can relate too
for real you know me better
than that
Your single freinds
act real strange
they use to smile
Said I wanna baby
now everythings changed
aint no tippin out
if you go you gone
your momma taught you
right from wrong
don'n me
to find another
I aint your freind
and I aint your other
We done vowed
our marrage bed
My mind is stripped of crippling inhibitions
It rummages, unfettered with mundane thoughts
delving along beveled edges of a distorted mirror
as though it sees inside my sutured heart
In its scarred reflection is a sanguine painting
An original piece of bloody abstract art
In translucent shadows
shades of red interlace, light and dark
revealing with candid strokes
the sad validities of stresses in life
Paint drips in globules from my brush
bleeding onto a canvas of fleshly white
Emotions revealed with intense veracity
as the aureate sun fades, lost at dusk
I turn away from the glow of moonlight
Emotions unmasked, I've taken a stance
that allows me to paint a somatic portrait
Visions discovered while I sat in a trance...
ochre and crimson oils, sorrow runs black
Bloodletting hues whether in a painting
or in poetic lines of a caged poem, I trusted
would always remain closed... but
the rusted door has been flung wide open
Released is this motley conveyance titled,
"Live, If I Must"
give,
sufficient, able
committing, yielding, handing
conveyance, help, need, exchange
expecting, transmitting, acquiring
beneficial, eligible
receive
Date written: 04/30/2023
Heart set ablaze, returning your gaze
Conveyance of want and desire
Beating in time with yours fit in rhyme
Blood coursing through, set afire
With passion unbridled, the chapter untitled
Pulse racing, breath taking thought
Yearning for you as I always do
Your touch and embrace have I sought
The so-called Rubber Bullets are live
And are not to leave hit victims alive…
So, Shooting Time, do not ever drive
And ‘Spraying Hour’ you try to dive,
If really you wish to survive.
Better so than their penetration
Followed by a battle to self revive
Or on surgeries a concentration
To not your family a life deprive...
You go ahead to speedily dive
Like one certain that Death shall arrive
Because Satan you’d seen with Live Bullets connive
In time to stop trooping mourners, often a beehive;
At your residence busier than a bee
While awaiting calming whisky or hushing tea
But also your conveyance for a fee.
Tide pool conveyance
water born lover's parade
before the storm calm
It’s the time of year for getting together
With family and friends far and near.
Of course, all depends on the weather,
Unless one owns a herd of reindeer!
written December 18, 2021
* For my children - no one has touched my heart as deeply *
~
There ne'er were "perfect" parents -
We contend the best we can
Amidst our love's conveyance,
There remains no flawless plan.
We strive to keep our wee ones safe,
Hold their hearts until they've grown,
Yet advised we have to "let them go",
When they seek new lives, their own.
Their youth is gathered nigh to us,
Guided in our tightened clasp,
Too soon, they widen wings to fly,
And we must then loose our grasp.
But no matter what their journey,
Or the distance that may grow,
There's one sweet truth, enduring:
We will NEVER ... let them go.
Written on September 5, 2021
For the "The One Who Touched My Heart" Poetry Contest
Regina McIntosh, Judge & Sponsor.
God love for humanity
Stood by love
More gracious of
Always driven
To be forgiven
Take care of our trees
God please
Showing we care
Cleans our air
The world you gave
Help us save
We shall stand united
As your words invited
Time of conveyance
God purveyance
Remembering all
Your enemies must fall
It is time the world hears
Why truth has been feared
God protects this earth
Why love must always come first
Blessing our oceans
Through love devotion
In need of care
God is there
Once wholly stripped
of its crippling inhibitions
a mind rummages, unfettered
beyond mundane thoughts
delving along beveled edges
of a pensively distorted mirror
as though it sees inside a heart
reflections in purest pigments
the genuine acumen of art
In deep translucent shadows
the artist interlaces light and dark
revealing with candid strokes
the truths and validities of life
Paint drips from his brush
onto a canvas of fleshly white
working with intense veracity
as morning sun becomes moonlight
With passion unmasked
he relies on blind intuition
and paints a somatic portrait
Visions found while in a trance
ochre and indigo, texture in black
bloodletting hues of crimson lust
An abstract of motley conveyance
he titled, "Into Life Man is Thrust"
I have dreamt of change
Of something more
I dabble in activities but all seem a chore
A daydreamer of conveyance
Wistful of the misshapen course of our lives
Persona non grata
Ambivalent to the world, trapped in eternity
Thoughts hammer at my core
Cloudless eyes perfidy my truth
What sound do thoughts make
An onomatopoetic poet clanging and clashing around in his own head.
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