I think I'm early
They've taken the schedule down,
but if I remember it,
I might be just a bit early.
It's a fine autumn day
I don't mind waiting
The leaves are in their last days of gold
if it rains they'll be gone tomorrow
There's plenty of time to think
here waiting for the bus
watch people go by
a stray dog
Nobody else is waiting
I could go.
But you know how it is
you give up on the bus and just
when you're halfway to the next stop
it passes you by
and you feel more foolish than usual.
It isn't early any more
but there's a zen-like peace in waiting.
A peace until you start to think about it.
what if it never comes.
They must have taken the sign down for a reason
maybe they changed the route
Perhaps you missed the last one
and now you're going to have to walk home
laden with all these packages
in shoes that were never meant for this
in the drizzle that's started.
It's getting dark.
The rain isn't letting up.
The streets are empty.
May as well hoof it.
.
Other authors driving the enigmatic TFE's bus for themselves:
The courageous Titus http://titusthedog.blogspot.com/
The melodious Rachel http://crowd-pleasers.blogspot.com/
Creative Niamh B http://variouscushions.blogspot.com/2009/11/promptless-titleless-poem-help-needed.html
The wonderful Weaver http://weaverofgrass.blogspot.com/
I'll post other links as I find them, though probably not until after work.
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2 months ago
6 comments:
Really like this - perfect capture of the boredom, then mild panic and frustration of waiting for a bus when you haven't done it for a while.
Yes, I wondered whether he would spring something on us at the last minute (but after a Halloween party and stuff I wouldn't have managed anything last night if so!).
Enjoyed waiting at the stop with you!
x
Oh, so much bigger than waiting for a bus!
I really like the way it builds, and the fourth stanza especially.
Loved these lines;
"laden with all these packages
in shoes that were never meant for this"
Made me smile, made me think.
Perfectly illustrates why I seldom take the bus any more.
But it sure brings back memories of my days waiting for the bus; but it brings them back with a fondness I find surprising.
I hope the bus didn't come the minute you set out to walk.
In those shoes.
While I did in fact write the poem sitting at a bus stop on a long Sunday when not many busses come around, it's a metaphorical bus that may or may not have stopped running. By writing a Monday Poetry Bus poem I kept it going in my own small way, joined by some of my fellow riders. Our group rails against its dissolution. We are not ready to stop!
I'm happy to help drive, if that's what we need.
Cool poem NanU, really good and I got the metaphor.Think this might be your best yet! Pip pip!
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