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jewel Mar 6
night bleeds indigo and gray, and
a california chill seeps deep into bone.
white hot spotlights melt through my joints
as I watch you through half-closed eyes,
ignoring the ache that creeps into
the chambers of my heart.

among strangers, only your face remains clear
while my vision dims like dying lightbulbs.
for a moment i forget my lines;
but i am not an actor.
then we share this golden-lit bus, you & i,
skin sticky with sweat & iced tea.

five steps between us feel like miles.
knees bump over gravel...
bump, bump, bump...
through cuts of moonlight and lonely cigarette trails,
i wish you'd turn my way.

and my tired eyes will wander the aisle
while the voices between us fade like old leather seats.
footsteps mark time passing
on this midnight bus ride.

shadows will dance under streetlights,
and the words i want to say catch in my throat
like dewdrops at the sound of your laugh.
spring feels distant now,
and still i'd wait for you.

brushing arms leave trails of fire,
hands running through tangled thoughts.
my body resides between Newport's shore and sea.
i remember a friend's words:

"what else can you do but admire from afar?"

days later;
missing the midnight bus ride back home.
copyrighted, poemsbyjewel (2025).
Stacey Dec 2024
I was on my usual morning commute, succumbing to the ease of autopilot, when I happened to glance out my window at a magpie. Our eyes met, just for a second, and in that moment, I dissolved from mindlessness into pure joy.

A smile overtook my face as I felt nothing but this beautiful creature’s gaze upon me. I felt his unbotheredness - huddled against the wind, keeping himself warm without complaint. In that micro-second of silent conversation, I sensed his quiet affinity for life—his gratitude for the earth, which, day after day, provided him with food, and for the sky, which so effortlessly offered him passage. He wastes no time lamenting, only enjoying.

It was with that thought that I realised: we are the same—on a parallel commute. Him, guided by his intuition, and me by mine.
My morning commute
Steve Page Jul 2022
Sadness is finishing a great novel
on the train to work
and carrying it home
empty of suspense,
with a faint hope
for the yet unpublished sequel.
Bad planning on my part.
Oskar Erikson May 2022
much of my commute
these past few days
has been about the first call
we’ll never have after our break.

obsessing over
the receiver bringing
absolution
through your imagined hello
in more weeks than i dare count.

my phones notif’s are almost taunting me
reminders from every little corner of the internet
that life can’t pause
the moving on
after the
death of another gay boys feelings.

the thought
eventually there’ll be an
unspoken acceptance
your voice will never be close and familiar again

unshackles me.

as the northern line pulls into the platform
i like to imagine somewhere under its torturous sound
you’re speaking to me and i just can’t hear it.

this is the peace i’ve been left with
to patch myself up
in all of its ugly simplicity.

oh how a heart can sink but still shine.
oh how my love can be smothered
and you be fine.
Nigdaw Mar 2022
so the day is going well
which is never a good sign
time ticking past somnambulantly
inducing a soporific state
I find hard to shake
with rocking carriages
as I traverse to my travail
through millennia of archaeology
passing long extinct dinosaurs
turning magically to crude oil
Roman armies with Gladius drawn
ready for action two thousand
years on, still trying to conquer
the unconquerable realm
then an eco-warrior
of shabby description
yells my carbon footprint
is an abominable *******
it’s an electric train I holler
how much greener can I be fella
the Romans are looking friendlier
by the minute they only wanted
my freedom not justification of existence
the soporific state abates
the modern world is against me
now I’m running late
bloodKl0tz Jan 2021
A train sits idle
Driver turns off the headlights
Helps my night vision

Flying past cop car,
Headlights turn on in rear-view,
Turn off, I can breathe

Oncoming driver,
Flash my lights to warn them
Of deer or police

At small town train tracks
Car flashes brights at random,
Left me quite confused
Brian Turner Oct 2020
Rounding the corner
Walking from the house  
I'm thinking of my work day
Thinking what to say

Back through the woods
Smiling at the horse
Up through the copse
Strutting through the coarse

Down the busy road
Cars start to toot
Home beckons soon
Ending my fake commute
Inspired by the 'fake commute' story from the Guardian.co.uk where people are walking are taking a false drive in the morning as they miss their commute to work. It's interesting how we hang on to habits.
Kevin Hudson Oct 2020
the endless construction of the industrial landscape
of jersey barriers & orange cones and workers with coffees
& expensive work & gear
police stand by...
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