Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
#commute
The sixty degree angle of her soft-leather clad ankle drew my eye. It was relaxed and maintained an elegance that appeared effortless and it was this angle and the over and under of her other leg, with the unwavering support of her angled ankle, that stayed with me, and deposited an unreasonable burden of jealousy and arguably an exaggerated degree of admiration. Then, with a whisper, she handed her coffee to her companion and unfurled her legs as she withdrew her makeup bag to make herself more human, ridding me of my revelry.
0
Mar 17
Mar 17, 2026 at 2:43 AM UTC
"Hold my coffee"
On the train rows of stacked adults faces lit by phones no eye contact silent fragile like books on shelves.
0
Mar 13
Mar 13, 2026 at 6:11 PM UTC
Bookshelves in Motion
Red light, Green light, Blinking away, The same old roads, The same old day; Engines hum, Faces stare, Everyone rushing, But going where? I grip the wheel, And breathe in slow, I feel my mind, Begin to flow; I’m in the crowd, Yet I’m alone, A moving cage, A metal home.
0
Feb 23
Feb 23, 2026 at 9:33 AM UTC
Quiet Traffic
Ana smears toothpaste across the wrong side of the brush. It’s 6:12 a.m. The coffee machine coughs like it’s learned the sound from the bus She gulps the brew—burns her lip— covers clean teeth with the illusion of being awake. The window's cracked. Cold air runs through the loose pane, rubs its fingers on the back of her neck. Outside, she fumbles her keys, misses the zipper on her bag—again. The driver doesn’t look up. She taps her card twice, no beep. Just her reflection in the greasy plastic divider. BBC news plays low: “More layoffs expected…” She opens her book. It's page 82. The war hasn’t started yet. The breeze still sneaks in through the vents. But in the story, the sky is orange and work doesn't exist.
0
Jan 16
Jan 16, 2026 at 4:14 AM UTC
No Beep
for just a moment while waiting for my train i managed to convince myself that this stage of commuters      in waiting smoking impatiently eating hurriedly chuntering incessantly amidst the grey on grey of concrete cloud and chagrin was as pleasant as one of those bustling plazas of European cities that tourists like to take a moment with a coffee or something stronger as they watch the locals go about their day i tried to enjoy it all the same watching these lives intertwine unnoticed until cigarette smoke was blown my way one too many times and i headed instead to wait on the platform disappointed that to anybody else i would just look like the rest of them
0
Oct 28, 2025
Oct 28, 2025 at 7:56 PM UTC
wishing for a commuted sentence
August, the Red Line, connected tanks of bolted plastic vertebrae. Every seat gone except five rows up, where a sea lion sprawls across two, stuffed backpack, yellow jacket spread out like caution tape. His grunt a wet bark at the glow of his screen. Middle-school deer slip into the aisle, chatter clipped when the sheriff drifts past, their ears flicking, smiles bitten shut. Not a predator- just a gelded ox, chest puffed, badge sagging, glass-eyed, chest rig clattering with blanks. Two lemur-children cling to their tortoise elder, her shell steady against the sway of the car. She shepherds them from the surge of riders: loud Dodger blue parrots in cholo socks, moth-women with plumed lashes beating the stale air, a stray dog, gutter musk dragging at its haunches. And one gray bear muttering alone, arguing with her reflection. Between Koreatown and MacArthur Park, somewhere the sea begins to breathe again, then, feathers forcing through my skin- an alley gull knifing into this clamour, scavenging inside its exhaust. The car rattles, its ribs plated with blistered posters: museum wings open to no one, ‘register to vote’ fading into graffiti script, flu shots promised by smiling ghosts. A bruised hatchling staring out beside the words See something, say something. The warning lights glow like eyes hunting in the dark. From its flanks the train unfurls iron claws. They rake the tunnel walls, the city’s bones, the dark itself.
0
Sep 29, 2025
Sep 29, 2025 at 10:00 PM UTC
The Gull Below
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.
0
Mar 6, 2025
Mar 6, 2025 at 12:02 PM UTC
midnight bus
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.
0
Dec 18, 2024
Dec 18, 2024 at 8:00 PM UTC
Magpie
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.
0
Jul 23, 2022
Jul 23, 2022 at 4:04 PM UTC
Commuter Reader
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.
0
May 3, 2022
May 3, 2022 at 2:35 PM UTC
gone and dusted
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
0
Mar 23, 2022
Mar 23, 2022 at 7:14 PM UTC
taking the underground
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
0
Jan 27, 2021
Jan 27, 2021 at 5:10 PM UTC
Nighttime Commute, 1.26.21
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
0
Oct 22, 2020
Oct 22, 2020 at 4:48 AM UTC
Fake commute
the endless construction of the industrial landscape of jersey barriers & orange cones and workers with coffees & expensive work & gear police stand by...
0
Oct 17, 2020
Oct 17, 2020 at 12:44 PM UTC
commuter
we take the same train everyday I don’t know your name nor where you come from what a joy is to see your face once more before we part ways again but the moment the train moves the rumble of my heart lead the way stead fast, the scenery of steeping in Front of emotion track after track winding and twisting with nothing to block the way the express route to desire your astonishing beauty Is my favorite stop love at first sight I wish I could've told you how I felt I wish I could've held your hands before alighting the train
0
May 6, 2020
May 6, 2020 at 3:12 PM UTC
michelle
destination unknown surrounded by people yet feeling alone what have I done? the world’s greatest game is when you miss the stop but you won’t feel the shame le petite mort on replay and for her bottom I was the perfect top who’s there to blame ? ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
0
May 6, 2020
May 6, 2020 at 2:43 PM UTC
train station
There's a sigalert on the conveyor belt, now we'll all be late for work. How can anything I spend half my life on be free? Little by little I'm moving away from me. Next year They're adding a fast lane. No solution there, just ******* in more butane.
0
Jan 31, 2020
Jan 31, 2020 at 6:20 PM UTC
People Mover
The platform is quiet when I arrive. The walk home is long. The road is busy with lights, but no faces. I should have worn gloves. Nearly there now. Someone's home but nobody was waiting. I pull a smile out my pocket and drop my keys, Then I listen to words about the day. My bed brings solitude, While questions crawl behind my eyes. Scraping inside my skull, they're familiar, And I drift off on their backs.
0
Jan 28, 2020
Jan 28, 2020 at 2:30 PM UTC
Routine
So many little ***** hands reaching out for an empty watering can. The pipe always seems to be closer than it looks. I shut my eyes tight sometimes and let my fingers find a rhythm or lose myself to the whirr. I forget to meditate, or write things down, I browse IG, fall into pattern of searching for familiar names. I find deals online and shop away the panic Settling in, it’s replaced with commercial anticipation- instant gratification- Jesus ******* Christ I can’t even type with my headphones on, this car is always the obnoxious one I never learn. It’s the closest to the stairwell but I guess I always hope that people would consider That roosters haven’t even crowed yet And maybe whisper?
0
Oct 29, 2019
Oct 29, 2019 at 11:59 PM UTC
Feed the Baby
Black rain falls ice cold emotionless desolate tarmac roads puddles of ugliness form devouring light drawing in the world dark matter the abyss lies beyond headlight's reach reflected buildings distort as cars spin aquaplaning tyres across mirrored mercurial surfaces downdraught suppresses exhaust fumes as dragon automobiles slither their hissing way neon lit fire breathing monsters of road and byway home is measured by the length of the next queue rather than miles per hour
0
Sep 26, 2019
Sep 26, 2019 at 4:34 PM UTC
Commute