Poems about bus

On the bus I heard a fellow decrying Americans at war,
Said all were yellow bellied cowards,
I found this most distasteful,
Wanted to bite him, to lash him with my tongue,
To unwrap a box of disrespect,
Tell him not to generalise,
To speak out about causing such offence,
From discussion of cowardice,
He digressed to general sundry,
The price of fish and wages,
Along with the price of beer,
Felt sorry for the mousy wife,
Who never marked his card,
To get a word in edge ways would have been extremely hard!
I am an English woman thought this so unfair!
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Judith sat next to you
On the school bus
Going home

Holding hands
Beneath her coat
On her lap

And she said
Some one must have seen us
The other week

By the pond
Because my dad
Asked me about it

Last night
And he said
Not to let mum know

Which I wouldn't
Of course
But who saw us?

I don't know
You said
Couldn't see anyone about

But who would tell my dad
About it?
Did your dad say

Who told him?
No he wouldn't say
She said

Looking worried
Have to be careful
Where we go

You looked out
The window
At the passing scenes

Her hand in yours
Warm
Her fingers next

To yours
What about meeting
In my dad's tool shed

That's quite big
And there's a couple
Of old chairs in there

Apart from his tools
And such
You said

I don't know
She said
What if your parents

See us?
We could go
Into the house

They won't mind
Me and you together
Mum likes you

Does she?
Judith asked
Yes she says she does

You said
Judith smiled
And leaned closer to you

But didn't kiss
Because of other kids
On the bus nearby

I like it near our lake
(Judith called it the lake
Even though it was just

A large pond)
I like the quiet there
And the ducks

And fish just
Beneath the surface
And the birds flying

Overhead
She said
I like it there too

You said
Us being alone together
Just lying there

Or sitting
Looking over
The pond

The peacefulness
The aloneness
Of us just being us

And you thought
Of you and Judith
That last time

Kissing
Laying near
The pond

Being there
Feeling her near
Smelling the perfume

She borrowed
From her mother's collection
Feeling her lips

On yours
And as she looked away
Out of the window

You wanted to kiss
The nape of her neck
But you didn't

You just sighed
Wishing you were elsewhere
Sans other kids

Sans others' eyes
Just you and her
And the pond or lake

Feeling as if dawn
Had just come
And you from some

Dark sleep
And were now awake.

There are so many faces going different places
Everyone is in such a rush
I guess these days it is so hard to trust
I guess I will refrain from talking
I guess we will all remain just strangers on a bus

So we boarded the bus, just the dreamer and me,?
As it pulled away from all we'd hated be,?
To the screech of the wheels on the road out of hell,?
In the dark of the night by the demon clock's bell.

So we drove through the night, just the dreamer and me,?
As the dawn light broke over the black Lost Soul sea,?
To the cries of our kin from the mountains above,?
That they know in their hearts that we need to find love.

So we rallied a cry, just the dreamer and me,?
As we reached the last checkpoint to set us both free,?
With the breath of the horde on the back of our necks,?
Not a moment too soon did we pay our respects.

So we bid them farewell, just the dreamer and me,?
As the barrier closed on that world few will see,?
With a song in our hearts and smile on each face,?
We rejoiced at the chance to re-join our true race.

So we came to a stop, just the dreamer and me,?
As the road brought us to all we'd wanted to be,?
From the hatred and pain we once saw all around,?
To the love and the joy that we'd never have found.?

So we rested our heads, just the dreamer and me,?
As we thought about all that had caused us to flee,?
From this day to the end we will cherish this chance,?
As we move hand in hand to this sweet mortal dance.

I board a public bus
A graying bus driver is a woman and then morphs into a man
A normal experience within a dream

My eyes glaze over as I assume a state of aloofness
As I tend to do when surrounded by unfamiliar people
As some sort of defense mechanism
As if the otherworldly look in my eyes
Will thwart the formation of an ill intention forming in the mind of a stranger that occupies the bus with me
Just in case

Two older men are on the bus
I don't validate their existence
When I am aloof
It feels like I am the only person truly alive
Everything gradually grows dimmer
As my inner world roars as loudly as an amphitheater.

The bus drives for hours
I've never been on this bus before and I've never been to the town I am traveling to
I'm going there to check out a church
Even though I'm not a Christian
Hours pass...
I start falling asleep in my dream
The bus has no stops

Finally, the bus reaches the end of its route
I am dropped off in front of a CVS along with the other two male passengers
One scruffy old man leers at me and smiles at me
But I act as if I didn't see him
I have no idea how to get to the church
It's getting dark
All that is around is the CVS, the bus stop, and a road with an onslaught of cars driving in either direction
Why did I make this hours long trip if I didn't even know exactly where I was going?
If only I could cross the wide street to get to the other side where the bus stop for the bus back home is
But I can't
The cars were driving at fast speeds and their was a constant flow of them
So I stood in that nakedness of uncertainty and abounding possibility
Stuck and calculating
As the sun set over this foreign place I ended up in
All because I was seeking some purpose
And yet, it brought me so far away from home,
The comforts and luxuries and certainties of home
Yet, when I awoke, something deep and vital within me knew
That I will never find my purpose within the comfort of my home.

Here I sit amidst the ruin of a white winters' day
Convulsive rain and harsh wind outside, contribute tumult.
And in here, in this small shelter, there is a tension in the air.

We two sit apart, uncommunicative, remote and quite detached.
Not for any reason other than the fact that we are strangers,
We have never met, nor are we ever likely to.
She has an elegance and a stylish angularity whilst I am bald, bearded, unfashionable and somewhat overweight.
She is singularly indifferent to my presence, whilst I am uncomfortable with the circumstance that placed us in this small proximity.
We would, in truth, rather both be elsewhere.

I break the ice in throwing her a small smile and complain about the weather,
Her eyes flick across my face and immediately resume their distant focus on the rain,
She adjusts her seating to face, ever so slightly, askance.
Her choice of course, to assume an air of indifference or superiority... or adopt a measure of defence... or perhaps a combination of a bit all three.
Regardless... I wipe my backside in exactly the same manner as does she, I am definitely no less a person for my dumpy demeanour and friendly overture
And I really feel that I don't have to share my space with coldness and impertinance,
Better, I think, to be wet and content with my own company
... So, donning my cap and jacket, I stride out into the deluge to leave the remote and uncommunicative young woman alone and dry with her thoughts.

And then...
Howling rain and shards of wind
Pelt me as I walk
Along the foreshore wild and white
As hovered seagulls squark.
When all at once she's by my side
Walking pace for pace,
Her linen suit a sodden mess
Hair plastered to her face.

"Thought I ought to make it right"
She told me with a smile
I threw my coat upon her back
And walked another mile.
We called into a coffee shop
And sat down by the fire
And sipped a steaming latte
As she told her story dire,

"The cancer's all but killed me
My husband's left the home,
The baby's gone to mother
And I'm facing death alone. "
We quietly spoke for ages
I held her hand in mine
Then suddenly she stood to leave
And thanked me for my time.

I sat there in a stupor
Recalling how it played
And felt the guilt impact on me
For judgements I had made.
Those callow, shallow judgements
Made in ignorance, my friend,
Will haunt me as she girds herself
To boldly meet her end.

Marshalg
On a bleak and blustery cold winters day.
Titirangi
5th September 2010

She is waiting there by herself. A woman, in a light colorful dress, that contrasts her gentle shoulders and sensible neck. It's raining. You see how the rain drops falling down from the sky are touching her and burst with exhiliration. They cover all her body, pure and shining like a heaven itself. She is standing there alone in the crowd.
Cars, buses are passing by, but she is waiting for something or... somebody. A deep uncertain regret starts permeating your mind, something that you are not, yet, able to understand yourslef but what causes pain. May be that's the sorrow of realizing
That she doesn't know you or... the thought that you would never be able to kiss her shoulder, and you don't want more. Even kissing her, you would have done it so gently and carefully, so that you would not have destroyed the harmony of her endless beauty... beauty of the lake, reflecting the sky and rising sun, that leaves you dazzled if you look on it. That kind of beauty you would not dare to touch, but just let it shine through you. A beauty that tells you the reason of life, and tranquilizes your soul. You wish your life was as ideal as the traits of her face, eyes, lips... You wish you were a wind that touches her so elegantly, without a word or any wrong movement, leaving itself in every and each cell of her body, disappearing in her sweet scent... You wish... And when you open your eyes you see her sitting in somebody's car... and the car is going away... you're sitting alone waiting for the bus...

The man leans forward in his seat, reaching down with bony arms
His hunched back jerks every time the bus jolts - often enough
That the concern leaking from me almost covers the empty seat between us
While his shoulder blade rocks against the textured purple grab pole he leans on

Bright evening sunlight floods from the clear glass windows
His sports shoes gleam a blinding white against his black long pants and high socks
The laces on the right shoe have come undone
Thin fingers wrestle with the half-tied knot, plucking at the tangle

Just opposite him sits an old woman with short grey hair
Her cheekbones sunken in a permanent scowl that reaches the eyes
I cannot fathom if disapproval is directed or a decades-long feature of her face
With clasped hands she stares into space and never meets my gaze

The laces are fully loosed; the man now loops them around his leg
Several inches above the ankle and his trouser cuff
They circle once, twice. Then they intertwine haphazardly
I am reminded of a confused toddler with strings

We stop once again and the woman gets up to alight
He does the same, inching to the door with a crawl - he has no cane
She scans two bus cards; he goes straight out
Each unsteady step threatening to collapse his bent frame

The bus doors close. In the evening heat she grabs the crook of his arm
Pushing him down the sheltered walkway of the bus stop
At a sickening pace. As the bus drives off
I glimpse a pair of white laces, flapping around black trouser cuffs