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We’re getting on this streetcar
without our permission.
Deciding every single day,
not to get out, just to survive,
until the next stop, the next breath.

Let’s pretend to be naive,
when the absurdity of norms
pushes us to follow the one-way track.

Please, look around,
see through rose-colored glasses,
how beautiful it could be!
Everything would seem easier
and more tolerable.

In this magical place,
we once called wishful thinking,
all the stars spark at night,
the rainbow shines all day!

Why must we be so practical,
when stray pieces intertwine,
forming a cohesive and unique whole?

Passing silently, unnoticed,
in the city of unseen lines,
in the depth of our hearts,
we dream that this tale
could end happily.

We, all Passengers,
craving more space
spreading our wings,
we are trapped in small cages.

In the streetcar called
Bare Existence
until the last trip,
until the last call,
we wish only
to be unconditionally accepted.
irinia Nov 2023
out of the blue
my hands turn into themselves
and so does the dust of leaves feeding
the soil of a mysterious skin
we are passengers through blissful omens
cruel visions of a ravished anti-time
so treat me like fire
Inside cockpit command control, a proud young captain sits fiddling with his tie. Out on the runway, a parade of boisterous holiday makers stream through a wall of steamy-sticky heat.
A scraping of cases amid jubilant faces, as they flock to their seats in frantic fashion. Offering warm greetings, the sun spreads its orange glow; kissing the face of many a passenger.
Raucous voices become feeble mutterings, drowned by roaring engines. Knuckles white as chalk from clenched fists: an anxiety that is to be short-lived.
We ascend to the clouds, above motorways and mountains; entering an endless wash of blue. Smiles chucked around like confetti bringing a sense of: new opportunity, hope and adventure. As we rise above.
Copyright ©️ Joshua Reece Wylie 2021
Written for a competition. The theme was 'Rising Above'
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
Mending
by Michael R. Burch

I am besieged with kindnesses;
sometimes I laugh,
delighted for a moment,
then resume
the more seemly occupation of my craft.

I do not taste the candies;
the perfume
of roses is uplifted
in a draft
that vanishes into the ceiling’s fans

that spin like old propellers
till the room
is full of ghostly bits of yarn ...
My task
is not to knit,

but not to end too soon.

This is a poem for the survivors of 9–11 whose families lost loved ones in the terrorist attacks. Keywords: 911, survivors, victims, first, responders, passengers, firemen, police, heroes, terrorist, attacks, World Trade Center, Flight 93, Pentagon, White House
Jean Jan 2019
I open my mouth
wrestling the words off my tongue
like they are passengers
that refuse to walk their plank.
and when I finally think I’ve pushed
them
off
into the storming sea should they go—
dissolved by the darkness of the waves
and the crescendo of the foam.
but nothing dares stumble out in the land between my lips,
instead the passengers find themselves
to the vacuum of hopelessness
that awaits it.
Composed 1.9.19
saranade Apr 2016
When I had two arms, I had ***.
When I had money, I had friends.
When I had two arms, I got invited out.
When I gave a performance, I had fans.
When I had two arms, I had careers.
When I had drugs, I had power.
When I had two arms, I could use a computer.
When I had something to steal, I had company.
When I had two arms, I got flirted with.
When I give free rides, I have passengers.
When I had two arms, men and women wanted to date me.
When I had fancy things, I was impressive.
When I had two arms, I had friends.
You can tell me that nothing is different, but it is  everything is.
Amitav Radiance May 2015
I want to board the train to nowhere
Two parallel track never to meet
Through verdant landscapes
And long dark tunnels through mountains
Through the morning dew
And torrential rains
Between deep woods and loneliness
Let the train travel till eternity
Filled with passengers who does not know time
Winding through the trails of nowhere
This train journey will be on tracks for eternity
Crossing breathtaking bridges
Looking at the dangerous abyss makes us dizzy
Train continues with the journey
Sitting by the window, landscapes scrape by
This train to nowhere, is the ultimate journey
We are all passengers traversing various lands
Two parallel track never to meet
Fiona Campbell Jan 2015
London train departing from platform nine
We are pleased to say that it’s right on time
Passengers scramble on with their luggage
Looking for empty seats in the carriage
I sit at the window, gaze at the sea
Trolley comes down with sandwiches and tea
Conductor appears looking for tickets
Lots of hands searching in bags and pockets
Girl in the corner, engrossed in her book
Man in the suit gives his files a last look
Plenty of people perusing their phones
Lovely old lady sits quiet and alone
Everyone stares at the guy with tattoos
His barely dressed girlfriend with high-heeled shoes
Young guy with the headphones, chewing his gum
Little kids clinging on tight to their mum
Meaningless small talk, chatting with friends
Train’s getting slower, journey will end
Finally here at my destination
New adventure begins at the station
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