I am very, very, very
Fond of riding on the ferry.
There’s no traffic on the river,
So it’s easy to deliver
All the riders when expected
From the boats they have selected.
Up on top, the ride is breezy,
But in any seat, it’s easy
To gaze out at your surroundings
While the vessel’s leaps and boundings
Take you all around the city
For a taste of nitty-gritty.
Passengers of all persuasions
Ride for various occasions –
Workers heading to employment,
Tourist seeking pure enjoyment.
People-watching is rewarding.
Check out strangers while they’re boarding.
Hear the accents from their nations;
Eavesdrop on some conversations.
Ditch the subway, bus or taxi;
Turn your mini journey maxi
And your mood from tense to merry.
Hop on board a New York ferry!
In the dim and distant past, i cycled around
Slow and fast, past sleepy houses, on small city blocks.' In the morning fresh when its not yet hot ' sometimes a daring
Cat shot in front, aloof and sleek, no play for me then on bots..I recall the rich sent of
Fresh cut lawn, before the day would swallow, this placid morn' i recall milk bottles sitting on front door stoops, as pidgeons scattering, as the hawk broke loose, out a of a blue yonder, with whistling
Wings, echoing the sound of my bike wheels, as i turn for home i hear the church
Bell ring.'
Mr Wems Temmy!
Riding on a bicycle...
Will you want to carry me?
Mr Wems Temmy!
Jump on!
Miss Blessing,
Jump on!
Mr Wems Temmy!
Every stroke
On the pedals
Is against my will
To move on...
As the echoes
All in my head
Keep radiating
Her voice like voices
Of unrest frogs at night
Her words poke
My legs backpedals
Motionlessly still
Conscience swan
Heartbeats skip airflows
Mouth's words unsaid
Opened up initiating
My mind's closet choices
Into an awesome delight
Lonely, I share the mystery
Dancing to the echoed tune
Up with its low tone going high
Nouns into verbs imperatively
Makes me mastered them all
Yet absent is the face that speaks
Isn't this mind adultery?
Thinking of sandy wind's dune
Near the lake of my heart's sigh
Romancing her far mind imaginatively
Of how possible weather naturally fall
Cum constant changes techniques
Upon this weary thought
My mind embraces the puzzle
Of every tight filled storm fought
Watered mind's sighs thoughts guzzle
And again, I heard...
Mr Wems Temmy!
Riding on a bicycle...
Will you want to carry me?
Mr Wems Temmy!
Jump on!
Miss Blessing,
Jump on!
Mr Wems Temmy!
RIDING ON THE MOONRISE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In monochromatic musings the moon rises--a deep silver ballerina, turning pirouettes with perfect form. In eternal stoic grace, she takes her place in the heavens, content to ever-reflect the light of the sun. Her moonbeams appear as runways in the starry night.
dreams ride on moonbeams
hung from that silver being
as dreams always do
butterfly kisses here and there
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
two guys just hanging
sunday morning bike riding
enjoying weather
Hope and dreams both reside in me
One has patience while the latter grows wings
Hope is that feeling that sees me through
Dreams are cherished ideas in different hues!
Does hope intermingle in dreams among beds of flowers?
Does time let hope hide within it hours?
Or do dreams soar at night and gain some powers?
Or does hope hum as those honey bees sing?
Or are dreams born in the spring?
Does hope trudge along a rugged trail?
Or do my dreams soar on a dragons tail?
Or will hope allow me not to fail?
Or will my dreams be broken by the wind that tosses
my sail?
Will hope then pick up those broken pieces?
And join all of those dreams floating in shards
And pat my dreams and put me to bed?
Or when I awake my hope and dreams be
As thick as partners in crime instead!
25.11.22
(A poem dedicated to Khadiza Merry)
They all heard that,
Jesus is riding on a bus, these days.
Vinay from the remotest eastern village was an eye-witness
He just acknowledged today, in confirmation.
I was counting those quarters. One by one.
The unpaid dues for the neighborhood store...
When silence honors every single voice out there
One can be a meaningful one for afterlife, with a storekeeper.
And slowly,
I sustained.
I was tamed within
With those hot, warm sweaty humid minutes.
And I gifted a land of own, aged for long, to the storekeeper.
Will it be an identifiable generosity accompanied with the right hand?
A specially biased right hand?
There are need of mirrors, here and there.
These attires, dress etiquette and dress colors too...
Under the slender palm trees, the virgin Mary cries here, also
Somewhere, a frozen conversation dies in silence, with a noisy air-cooler.
'Twas late one night in the month of June
I decided to fly to the moon
The view from the moon did show
That the Earth was all aglow
The I heard the stars twinkle and croon!
I saw that Venus was quite near
So I took a flight over there
If I had known all along
That its days were so darn long
I'd have visited another sphere
I saw a couple stars implode
As on golden moonbeams I rode
I caught two falling stars
And threw them out to mars
Before landing at my abode
2-28-2022
Tall Tales 1 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Jeff Kyser
PS Syllable Counter
Once there was a farmer
Who rode to the pub on a llama
He said "In Peru
It's the thing to do
Isn't she a charmer?"
I write upon the waves of sunsets spectacle
All supreme in her dipping miracle
One day gone are we even aware
Lost in our own day dream
To bid farewell and say our unspoken goodbyes
To the creators painted canvas highs.
Ripples of light pause reflecting the dipping day
Colorful blessings that come bright and gay
Night and day now hold each other
Daylight eyelids heavy
The night time waves goodbye to the glorious sun
Unspoken eyes lift, crimson orange done.
Dancing waves of the twilights smooth silken blanket
She takes off all her glittering trinkets
Sudden dip on the horizon
Her lights out, moon rising
The twilight our teacher we watch and learn her gleam
We often forget to grasp the larger scheme.
29.1.2021
I write upon waves.
Remember Funom Makama,
Who went riding on a llama,
And viewed,
Family feud;
Fell off then had a trauma.
Jim Horn
the ocean has no ties
going from place to place without regret
how I wish I were the ocean
tasting the salt of freedom
basking in the crisp air of life
no one looking to you with betrayal
no commitment
just riding waves onto the horizon
alone and happy
the wonderful feeling of freedom
the ocean and I
Author Dana Redricks
April 14, 2017
When Jesus first came, he came riding on a donkey
Crowds of people standing, cheering him all around
Before they were done
they were condemning him to death
But when he died he didn’t remain there
He rose from the dead and defeated death and sin
Now his children have been loosed from sin
Living in Christ in true victory
When Jesus coming for his church
he will be riding on a stallion
Coming to take all his children home
He’ll be riding on a stallion
He’ll be riding on a stallion
When he comes again he’ll be riding on a stallion
Coming to gather the church and to take them home
With all his angels gathered all around
Oh, what glorious day that will be
when Jesus comes again
he’ll be riding on his stallion instead of a mule
Donkey’s in the land of Israel in the 1st century,
Were used to carry goods about the country,
But could also carry women, children and the ill,
Because they were strong and quiet, did chill.
So when Jesus entered Jerusalem on that day,
On the Sunday before his crucifixion, away,
He deliberately chose a donkey to ride on,
To communicate effectively, with abbreviation.
A donkey was premium to the professions,
The areas industry’s for selling productions,
Which depended on donkeys for transportation,
For their future and reputation’s momentum.
So Jesus was saying by riding that donkey,
That he was key to the wave that they did see,
That how his death was remembered, thought,
Would determine the legacy that he’d wrought.
Also, he assumed a sensitivity by that ride,
A vulnerability that he had and he felt inside,
Because he took the place of a fragile person,
Suggesting that memories were your liaison.
So he won and achieved a triumphant entry,
Because he proclaimed himself Christianity,
And that, just like a child, he needs lifted up,
Onto the donkey, where there’s a warm cup.
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