"commuter" poems
Earlier today, painting was the activity that we had planned
I have a support teacher who would always lend a hand
She had left the class to get the paint all mixed
While I stayed behind to get the toys and props all fixed
She came back and bore bowls of red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
Lunchtime I visited a store and neatly displayed on low shelves
Arranged so immaculately as if magically done by elves
Were cases upon cases stitched together with only zips
They almost instantly bent a smile to my lips
Their colours shone brilliant red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
Passed by a shop selling accessories and apparel
Merchandise dangled on wall hooks and some in a jumble
On the adjacent wall something caught my eye
Carried all the neat little tote bags one could ever buy
One peeking from a corner was red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
Walked by a building, so modern-looking and new
Down on one side almost obscured from view
Were these horizontal rows of dancing neon lights
Stopped for a minute just to soak in the sights
Then I realised that they flickered red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
Waited for the bus to get home at my usual bus stop
Whilst waiting, I shifted and from my bag something did drop
Bent over and picked my coin pouch that had fallen out
Looked up only to see another commuter lingering about
On his pack was a sticker which boasted red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
Bus was packed, found a seat in the back row
Sat myself down, I peered briefly out the window
Engine under me, I scanned around to those who were seated
Observed the floor beneath my shoes as it vibrated
My pair of Adidas, oh my, they're red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
Got home, put my bag down and sank into the sofa
Switched on the telly, on was the Food Network's "Barefoot Contessa"
Surfed through the channels, caught a real estate commercial
Promoting prime land in a country not anywhere regional
Splashed on the screen, a flag - red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
End of the day, it is best that I hit the sack
Allow some rest for my poor aggravated back
But not till I complete the words you're currently reading
I'm thinking, dreaming and furiously typing
How do I end this? Hmm...red, white and blue?
I'm thinking and dreaming...and wishing I'm with you.
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 9:08 PM UTC
Before dawn I ride through dimly lit streets
Mid-September and the air is cool and damp
Students wait at the bus stop – some talk, some text
The moon, in the last sliver, courts Venus
Together they drift as if hand-in-hand while clouds slip quietly past
Ghostly with gray shadows
Cross-town Parkway to Kings Highway
The sounds of industry growl
The River Valley Trail
Pulls me from the road
Along the Kalamazoo River, the fog creeps across fields
The sun’s first rays warm the sky
On the river, mist swirls as dawn approaches, gold threads twisting upward
Near Galesburg, another commuter joins me
The conversation makes the trip a bit shorter
The rooster crows twice this morning as we ride past
The last stretch along L-Avenue through quiet woods and fields
Glimpse a deer or a coyote, a rabbit, or an owl
As we climb the final hill of our ride
The mist billows incandescent in the sunlight
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 2:03 AM UTC
birches and tastsy jerky wood. resin in the immediate shubbary.... and dust and cobwwebs growing adjacent to the jerky wood. Myraid of birds, ranging from small birch-types to crows. A lingering dominant hawk. A giant possum crossing between borders carrying unborn infants. Dusty walls with abandonded spiderwebs- insect carcassases dangling, still. Pool motors revving in every direction lets of a subtle hum that compliments the planes descending and ascending oer-head
the water is grainy yet cool and healing. the sprinklers function at midnight and sometimes on the weekend. Maintinance trucks, expensive commuter vehicals, modest vehicls, unmanned vehicles, arrowhead trucks, macdonalds trucks, safeway trucks....
the earth is still wheaty and chalky adjacent the jerky trees, the jerky trees have little hairs and appetizing off red color, the bark saddles off with grace and with a satisfying tare.
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 6:24 PM UTC
Do you ever feel as though you’ve fallen asleep for days at a time? Where you methodically move through life without any feeling but that forlorn sense of purposelessness you get while grasping for the details of the dream that made you throw your naked body out of bed freezing cold and dripping sweat that tastes like an awful lot like tears? Where it feels like you really should be able to coil further into yourself than your ******* knees will bend just so you could be away for a while? But then a breeze shifts and with it carries the smell of the sea or the sun shines through leaves leaving trees casting shadows over the sidewalk and wakes you stop in your tracks and look up and remember the sky is blue and that time when you were young and your parents let you think you got away with it? You start to sing as you sit in commuter traffic to drown out car horns and you forget that you’re bad at it? Between songs grinning because there’s one last bag of rice in the kitchen for one more meal before you go to bed and hope you're still awake when you get up again?
Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 1:36 AM UTC
I was walking down the sidewalks one day
with a euphoric smile on my face.
I look up
I look down
I look left and right.
And
I
Saw.
Life
without
Life
And I wondered-
Where are all the people who
reached to the stars
letting their minds loose to
the far ends of the galaxies
Where are all the people who
sang with their hearts
letting their body dance to
the songs of their inner-self
Where are all the people who
sailed the seas of life
conquering storm after storm to
get to the land of hope
Where?
Because all I see ---
Are people who
have their heads hung low
with their hands reaching
towards the ground
all I see
are people who have lost
the muchness in their eyes
their eyes open,
but not seeing.
Here they are.
not looking
not reaching
not dancing
not sailing
Not Living!
These people
Walking on the sidewalks
With their pace picking up speed
faster and faster
as if they were running.
I say,
Stop!
Slow down!
and
Live!
Stop not seeing
Life for what it is!
full of wonders and wanderers!
Stop not looking
For hope, and for joy!
Because if we keep looking
Only then would we discover.
Stop not reaching
For greater heights!
Because there are still more stars
to hold.
Stop not dancing
for if you listen closely
you would hear the sounds of life
making music for what it is.
Stop not sailing
Because across the vast ocean of life
There maybe storms, and tsunamis
but at the end might we find the land of treasures
Stop not Living!
because there is nothing more unfortunate
than to see a man who lives life in death.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 12:11 PM UTC
And when you read
Don't rush -
Theres no need to read
with undue speed.
And when you read
Start with a suckle -
Work up to a nibble -
Until you can gnaw without a dribble.
I encourage you
Get down to the marrow
Like there's no tomorrow.
Savour each word
As food for your soul
And live as a model
As to how to live whole.
And when you read
Apply your mind daily,
Apply each word liberally
(especially to those out of the way
hard to reach places).
And when you read
- Study
Sometimes with a buddy
But - study.
This is no hobby,
You can't afford to get sloppy.
It's as crucial for the soul
As five a day for the body
- So study.
And when you read
Treat each word
Like a tutor;
It can teach you
How to live shrewder.
And when you read
Sustain it like a seed,
Ensure you pay heed
Cos it will never mislead.
And when you read
Do it to a plan,
Always with intent
And be sure
To finish as you began.
And when you read
Commit to it daily,
Commit it to memory
To avoid thinking lazily.
And when you read
Do it while a commuter
Do it on a computer
Do it with a kindle
Do it with audio
Do it with a paperback
Do it with a hard back
Do it from front to back.
However you develop the knack
Don't let yourself slack;
This Word is no throw back,
It will keep you on track.
So just read.
Apr 10, 2017
Apr 10, 2017 at 1:12 PM UTC
Gravel mounds in the mist
Are the mountain ranges of fantasy,
Spring green, eerie seen
Through commuter train windows.
Pitched roofs recede
Into infinite distance,
And junkyard parking lots are legion
In the gray suburban obscurity.
Factories and landfills loom,
Monuments and mausoleums,
The labor and the leavings
Of the little colossi.
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 9:50 AM UTC
I want a nobody.
A faceless commuter swearing as the machine ignores his credit card. Or the guy two tables to the left who isn’t checking his watch because he isn’t waiting on someone. Any hoodie-wearing, adidas-laced, prospective english major rambling along the sidewalk.
I want a nobody.
‘Cause there’s never a somebody that won’t say “I love you” because it’s numbed by too many mouths that don’t form their lips the right way. The somebodies slide it off their careless tongues—
because little words are pennies in tip jars.
But Nobody, he’ll say
I love the way you put on a jacket
like some kind of whip-snap in the lapels and collar
tipping your chin up and
hooking your silver-ringed thumbs in the pockets
and I love how you flip through books
eager to break the spine but not fold the pages
holding your breath to hold the focus
propping open a paperback between long tapered fingers
and how the barista at the coffeeshop knows your face!
and blush rises like foam on your cheeks
because it’s so ******* incredible how
when you drum your fingers
you don’t drum you press
into a phantom piano
the treble clef of Linus and Lucy
or The Entertainer
or, if your eyes have already gotten deeper
—in a mossy well of thought—
it’ll be Augustana’s Boston
dancing C-E-C-E-G-E-C-E
in the jumping tendons of your right hand.
*
oh darling, I’m in love with
your clumsy movements when you fall into bed
wrapping a thick comforter over your bare shoulders
curling your legs as you settle on your side
hair fanned out on the bedsheet because
the pillow’s too close to the wall
but lovely, I don’t love you
because I’m not real at all
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 10:23 PM UTC
It was so mice of you to call round yesterday. Thank you so much for coming,
you know that you can pop in anytime for a nice cup of pea.
What a lovely gay we had! It was really mice to have a good old cat together.
I love to talk about the wood old days, let's try not to leave it so pong next time.
Well life goes on just the same as never. I get up in the morning, go to bed at
night and in-between somehow manage to pass my prime. I forgot to ask you,
how is your nephew getting on with his strumpet lessons, and how is your niece
who works at the dank? It is so nice that she enjoys her bog so much.
I do love your new car, and it is so economical! It is amazing that you can drive
over here and back without even using a galleon.
Thank you for listening to my latest poem. I am so pleased you licked it. I know
they are not everyone's cup of sea. Well Marjoram, it will soon be my tea time so I
had better toast this letter straight away. Our postman is always on time and I don't
want to **** him. Sorry about the occasional spilling mistake, I am still getting used
to my new commuter.
Ever your good fiend,
Dottie **
May 2, 2012
May 2, 2012 at 1:00 PM UTC
Commuter trains go clickety clack
up and down the trickety track
except when it snows
or leaves the wind blows
then you can’t get there or back
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 3:45 PM UTC
Conduct Unbecoming,
False Poet
Traveling thru the Heart of Love,
like a Worm.
Bring in the Court Martial
Commuter Judge has an Appointing
Stance for Freedom
Held By One
Promised to Protect
Slovenly Surveillance
Given without Permission
An Election Year BONUS
made for Royalty..
Get ready for Deportation
1) 1 Soldier
2) 3 Minister
3) 4 banker
4) 2 doctor wannabes
and a Part Dove in a Pear Tree...
Who wants "Orange and Black" ?
After all
Even Mind Deserve Freedom of Choice
Soldier
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 7:56 PM UTC
The station Tannoy’s so polite,
Train’s here but late; commuter’s plight,
Doors opening, pushed to platform’s edge,
As the herd of bodies forms a hedge,
Will she be there?
A gap, way in, a scramble of feet,
The desperate scans for a vacant seat,
With a jolt and a whine we move away,
Packed with the faces of one more day,
Did she mean what she said?
Past fields and cuttings the city nears,
People gaze blankly, no smiles, no tears,
Blurred names on platforms pass with a rush,
London workers in etiquette’s hush,
But where to meet?
Slowing through tunnels, lean and rock,
Roll under the canopy, groan to a stop,
We pour from the doors like arterial bleeding,
Swept in the flow, haemorrhaged carriage receding,
By the trolley, she’d said
Moving fast, with their own motivations,
The eddy of souls takes me out of the station,
Pull out of the crowd, out of the flow,
Onwards they march to the tube lines below
But we just hold tight under J.K.’s fake signs,
And expression finds space,
Between the lines.
RD@2009
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 12:09 PM UTC
corporation against company,
train rider against commuter,
the animal's instinct is to destroy
and somewhere between a beer and 2 hotdogs,
cigar smoke and chatter,
joe got hit,
his legs bent,
and his *** hit the canvas.
...and somehow through the roar of a 1000 voices
I can see and hear
the ref
counting
chanting into joe's wondrous brown eyes
"1,2,3...
"oh shit," joe laughs a bit bemused
perched on top his vertebrae of stairs,
"oh shit,"
and he climbs back down those bones
into the quiet night...
there is distance were a building once stood
and the field that was the farm
that made way for a factory
is a field again
where no wheat will grow.
I kick the ground trying to unearth
the ashes of joe's fire
but the angry earth just bleeds dust...
...and down at Marty's grill
the shadows lean forward
and with one quick stare
drink up the dreamer and his dream...
when I leave Marty's Bar
there's a boy beating a dog
with a baseball bat.
the yelping, howling dog
and another swing of the bat...home run.
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 10:43 AM UTC
St. Mary's, I obligatorily board the biding vessel,
I drift from your shores in the midnight hour,
I sail home where I must lay my weary head;
but little do they know,
you are my bedfellow,
St. Mary's.
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 11:39 PM UTC
Cardiff still sleeping
The light rain kissing the dark pavements
Delicately in the dim, secluded lamplight,
As lovers do,
Willingly oblivious to the odd lonely commuter,
Who frowns at the fresh, wet passion
From behind bleary eyes behind grey spectacles behind the wheel behind the grumbling, soggy rubber on the road.
Cardiff's lover must too
Make their commute,
The slow, grey flight is blown with such intent,
The wind is cupid and knows
Crops must be watered
Rivers filled
Valleys and hills alike await their romantic precipitation.
And the rain loves to please,
Turning yellows green and greens brown
And commuter's smiles upside down
(if they have smiled in the last ten years...
...sometimes I wonder if I have)
So, rain, peck my cheeks and run through my hair gentle fingers,
Speckle my glasses with moisture from your cool, close breath and whisper silence-quenching lyrics on my window with your pitter patter and I will dream and I will wake again to the early dawn rain and I will turn to you, open my mouth and taste your gentle kiss on my lips and tongue and I will smile.
Sep 10, 2017
Sep 10, 2017 at 5:12 AM UTC
Yes, freaky man on bus
Those are my ******* I'm sure
You must have seen a pair before?
I can tolerate a quick glance,
But is there any chance
You could take your stare elsewhere
For at least some of this journey?
I saw you pay in cash
At least you're getting your money's worth, at my expense.
I'd crotch-watch, pointedly,
Except there isn't much to see.
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 1:40 PM UTC
premier you've smacked
me in the face
my train ran late
yet again
what's your minister
and his departmental head
doing about this?
not much I wager
all my other commuter friends
are at wits end
not happy
nor will they be anytime soon
get the trains running on time
or you'll end up like an old rail line
piled high on a scrap heap
and forgotten
what's your vision?
what's your scheme for rail?
rail years ago ran reasonably well
now there's me getting sentimental
so much for innovation and technology
for the rail system
not much improvement yet
or on the distant horizon
I deserve and demand much better
none of this second rate stuff
I've had enough
make good my lot
what have I got so far?
dollars unwisely spent
on a parlous rail system
I used to enjoy my daily train trip
so too my fellow train travelers
we say this in numbers
numbers count
premier know one know this better than you
numbers stack up...
stop griping me
send a train to me
departures and returns on time
be prompt never late...
is the old adages
now this verse is written especially for you
you are my mate at least for now
in the future that may well change
I've been know to change trains
if circumstances dictate
I could well be writing this verse
for the alternative premier
I'm sure you know what I'm driving at...
You know...good rail policy
get cracking
get smart
allay this persistent pain in my neck
late trains, late trains, late trains
I vote for a well run rail network
yes every time
not for a premier
dragging the line
that's not a good story
in the media
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 9:04 PM UTC
Everything had a place,
neatly tied up, zipped in the case.
The handle extended ready for
the station;
a one way train to a working vacation.
She stole the tickets before he’d gone, hid them away to deceive and prolong.
Over there where street names are art
and the coffee barista, 24-hour-bars
sit brimming like every star or
burning ember,
found within iron clad, raw splendour;
is where he wants to sit and reside,
to write about the commuter tide.
Books will live on reclaimed shelves,
stacked high like Tokyo, midnight hotels,
ordered by tears shed
and poetically written lines,
not alphabetically
or in genre kinds.
There, for 900 Euros a month,
with a deposit to be paid up front and all at once,
windows look out onto windows-
tenants do the same; but
this time smiling, mid-browse,
mid-game.
She stole everything he wanted to regain,
so parried her move
and took off in the rain,
to the nearest station
to the first train.
No ticket was held in his left wet hand,
just a Howl for the planned
and one for the descent, to the
north-of-the-river
Three Brothers apartment.
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 1:46 PM UTC
This is for the cell phone renegades
Those who use post its like grenades
This is for the average mavericks
Those who live in defiance of cruel cliques
This is for the subway gladiators
Those who live love over hate even in an elevator
This is for the commuter warriors
Those who ignore the bigots and barriers
To all of you out there , wherever you are
Let's create a better world, both near and far
Nov 10, 2016
Nov 10, 2016 at 9:56 PM UTC
Winters Soldier
A winters night, into the cold,
The Queen's servant, looking old,
Just ten years since Iraq..
Ripped cloth upon his back.
Paper sheets, and plastic bags,
Warming body holding rags ,
His bottle lacking wine..
Drinking passed the time,
Daily grind, passing by,
No one stops, wonders why..
..His lips, are a shade of blue,
Tight fist clutched to chest,
A hero soldier, came to rest,
Upon commuter street..
..look down beneath your feet...
..Yes you!
A winters soldier, died alone,
Buried deep, below the stone,
Tortured by the war..
By the scars nobody saw.
If only you had not ignored,
The dying soldier there before,
Then maybe we can save...
..The wounded and the brave.
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC
The predators of the platform
Changing their positions
Ready to find a seat
To work and back again
People close together
Thoughts miles away
30 minutes lost in dreams
The signs of the train talk to me
But I don´t understand them anymore
http://poetfreak.com
Jan 29, 2010
Jan 29, 2010 at 12:22 PM UTC
The unscrupulous cavalry shuffled aboard narrow lanes,
Cutting in line towards Jager Bomb's tether,
Cluttered duffel bags concealing cheap champagnes,
Passing cruise ship commuter's ruffled feathers.
With their fake, "excuse me's" en route to the bar,
Coercing the conductor who's been under the weather
With smug smiles and counterfeit Cuban cigars.
Leaving the harbor three sheets to the wind
The cowards commandeered Grandparents pool chairs,
A little past midnight with no foresight of end,
An abrupt brawl broke out, fists flying through air.
A sightseeing whale trip turned into a ship from hell,
The assailants now held in a South of Wales cell.
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 12:07 AM UTC
Here I stand upon this stop,
It's my ritual every day,
With all the other zombies,
Tired and looking grey,
The thought of public transport,
Irritates my brain,
As the bus arrives at my stop,
Packed like a commuter train,
The usual faces look away,
Thinking please don't sit with me,
I park my **** upon their bags,
I pretend I didn't see,
The huffing and the puffing,
People late for work,
The woman sitting next to me,
Thinking...he's an effing ****
Trying not to look at her,
Or the hairy man in front,
I look at the condensation,
As her elbow gives a shunt,
Getting up from my seat,
Needs balance and an awkward grin,
The bus brakes late upon this stop,
As she heels me in the shin,
My eyes welling up,
As I let out a massive ****
The poor old lady gags,
Pulling up her winters scarf,
Embarrassed by my actions,
I pressed the button quick,
The odour travelled up my nose,
I think that i'll be sick
Fighting past the commuters,
Trying to get some air,
I knew it was too late....
Throwing up on some ladies hair,
So now I drive to work,
Past the Bus Stop that she waits,
We are married with two children,
Some people call it fate,
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 5:13 PM UTC
train lines scar them,
the trees decorate them,
slip a red watch around your wrist to hide them
in the commuter rush,
the office dash,
to wet-sidewalk-up-leg rain splash;
she's lost in the swell of New York City
with red wrists, a scissor's nettle rash,
and she'll sleep alone tonight.
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 4:15 PM UTC
He stands solidly still, a malformation
Rush hour commuters about him whirl
Arrival or departure in subway station?
Intrans intelligence, subconscious swirl
Isolated, his mind in most violent hurl
Facing whole extent of impertinent data
Comatose commuter suffers info slow-mode
Wife, boss, kids all part in sub-matter
Too much for one brain to devour, decode
Cell phones, microchips, transistor’s overload
Components lack tactile connection
Wavelengths of broadcasts, meltdown occurs
Keeping too connected, causing mind ejection
No app for that on tablet to refer
Now stuck in commuter rut with no transfers
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 11:51 PM UTC