Best Buses Poems
The thing I do to be nearer to him,
Commuting even in weather so grim.
The things I do to have more acceptance,
Cleaning his home for a much better chance.
The bus I go northbound in drives down memory lane,
As I reminisce about what he and I once were, in silent pain.
The bus I go eastbound with shows me where he's recently been,
As I daydream of a future wish I deeply hold within.
The commute may not always feel worth it,
But I want to show him I love him every bit.
The way home always fills me with sorrow,
But I always know there is another tomorrow.
The things I do for him, despite coming and going,
It is because it is him whom I will never stop loving.
The things I go through for him doesn't make him obligated,
But the least I hope for is my love is one day reciprocated.
Some were peeling
others chipped and cracked
Some crayons sat tall and semi-pristine
others were beautifully bent and black
One was dotted with the colors from another
All were silent as ice mountain monks.
There were a few empty seats
(monuments to the lost?)
Where do the discarded and forgotten go?
Where do waxen souls leave their mark...
An old box of crayons is much like a city bus.
Life’s Buses Never Run on Time
Life’s buses never run on time
so I wait, in stoic supplication,
for a god who has no schedule.
Coincidence decides the crossing
of our paths, spontaneous reunion
of faith and practicality disappearing
in the dirt of city streets, nameless
sojourners jostling for “personal”
space, waiting to be disgorged
into those awaiting passage.
Illiterate traffic signals give
us hand signals – WAIT!
WALK – DON’T WALK.
Pavlovian elevators “ding”
signaling those waiting
that the door is about to open.
The waiters fall away
silent contrails left behind
in the slipstream of life’s waiting.
1/24/2016
Submitted to – Becca’s Inspiration “Waiting” – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Craig Cornish
BACK STORY
Me and my dad used to work as a team on the Trolley Buses for Manchester Corporation, out of the Hyde Road Depot. Dad drove, and I was his offsider, collecting fares, and keeping order on the bus, like making sure people did not block the aisle, or go past the stop they had paid for. and no one was standing up if there was room to sit down, also making sure people upstairs did not bang there feet on the floor. General Spoilsport eh. In the second part, Moses was a big African fella, and his offsider was a little red headed Irishman, they usually had the run in front of us, and tried whatever they could to get us to go ahead, and take the load off them, timetables did not bother them much. I always told dad,
if it comes to a fight, I will take the little one
Trolley Buses
By Robert (Bob) Moore ©
I used to work on trolley buses, up and down Hyde Road
My dad he was the driver, and I controlled the load
Move along the bus I’d say, there’s room for 2 upstairs
that’s where you were allowed to smoke, in those days no one cared
Leave from Piccadilly, the 210 was our bus
Keep eyes on the timetable, it meant a lot to us.
Ardwick Green and Belle Vue, then on past Debdale Park
Hyde would be the Terminus, then turn and head right back
Sometimes a petrol driver, would try to make some cash
With overtime on trolleys, but sometimes they were rash
They’d forget about the trolley arm, and try to overtake
They’d see us wave and shouting, and realized “mistake”
It was all too late of course, and the sparks would start to fly
The arms were bent and waving, and the power it would die
Then swearing and apologies, and laughter close to tears
Then back to depot on batteries, for the ribbing and the sneers.
Moses was an African, his offsider was a Mick
They tried to get us to take their load, with every dirty trick
We pulled into Hyde one day, they had their trolleys down
You should be in front they said, and take the load to town.
Dad did not bat an eyelid, we’er on a break he said
you’ll have to wait 10 minutes, before we go ahead
they knew they could not wait that long, they had to make their run
so trolleys up, and off they went, we drank tea and watched the fun.
Buses
Dear Buses
Daily you commutes us humans from one place to another
You do not hiss
You do not cry
You are so patient
You are so enduring
Without you we humans could not have reached our destinations
Without you our journeys would have been slow and dull
You provides employment to many people
From drivers to conductors
From bus manufacturers to bus sellers
Without you we are Nothing!
What is it about a bus?
For the life of me, what is all the fuss?
Well for starters, a bus design like no other
The craftsmanship in variation being another
The open road in a child’s eyes with bus wheels of highway just
However becoming a knowledgeable hobbyist being a must
The hound dog stretched out on a bus as kid would often pass in front of me by
In a young kid’s fascinating mind of oh my
The hound bus seemed to move faster than I could speak
Being a lover of animals for me this was a treat
Then I familiarized myself with the silver and gold of Continental Trailways
It was the Silver and Golden Eagle having their own distinguished structure with its own meaning
The royal red carpet treatment of the Golden Eagle Five Star Luxury Service
A Hostess On-Board with Stereo Music that could be heard
My eyes were all amazed with all that came with travelling on an interstate bus
Later I was venturing out with having my own personal collection of 2,000 plus toy scale models
It was Macy’s and my Aunt for giving me my glance of a toy scale school bus which opened my preservation in exploring buses more
Well with a few tot tactics, my Aunt was forced to buy me that toy school bus
As a tot, the buses made me happy and having no fuss
But today, the bus industry revolves all around us
Us being the hobbyist that we are and involvement that we do
This is something we should continuously pursue
Let’s keep the bus industry alive
I am being honest and that’s no jive
As the bus exhausts reminds us, let us be the influential force of the bus.
Do you know why bus rules are important?
We stop for school buses as they’re slowing.
Their yellow lights indicate take caution.
When red, the lights mean kids you may see going.
They might be going on the bus or off.
On two-lane roads, whether you are front or rear,
you have to stop, and the reason is
kids out of anywhere might appear.
Children can be hard sometimes to spot.
Around big yellow buses, please take care.
What of those on lanes that number three or more?
Those coming from the rear then must be aware.
Buses have been built for children’s safety.
They’re energy-absorbing, did you know??
Both economically and environmentally!
School buses for our kids are the greatest way to go.
gratitude breaks through
reflections on historic rites…
yellow school buses
The minutes dash past
In white lines on the road
Dirty and endless
I scratch words into paper scraps
Turning to shield
From the man who breathes heavier
And lives less
Than anyone I have ever seen
I do this every day
Two steps and a bus pass flash
Sink into the carpet crease
Three seats back
Watch the girl with the feather earrings and feathered hair
Nod and shake and rock
To a melody
That we can't find on weekdays
My pencil mirrors her eyes
Mimics her motion
And relentlessly searches for what swings between her headphones
Jives through her veins.
Upon the orange rock
The sun beating mercilessly down, Is now replaced by
Relentless rain
Pelting on pavements in the town.
Brushing through the bush
with stick in hand,
Rifle over the shoulder,
Is now succeeded by
Squashed inside the tube
Laptop bag tight on back,
Silent predators packed together.
And his mind turns back
To days upon the orange rock And blue, endless skies,
As he runs up the escalator, Deftly slides through
The barrier,
Worrying about the passing of time.
And… long…days...
Stretching as far as the
Vast limitless sky,
Are but a distant hint
Of a childhood that felt Empty, but strangely fulfilled.
This 'new life', this 'adventure', Had him hunting in a different way: Stalking code among the coffee cups To turn a profit for his bosses.
Ready for a big kill.
His fingers flew across the keys.
Despite the noise, the hustle and shoving The bushman stopped for a moment. He took a long, deep breath,
Eyes closed...
As he recalled his childhood
And felt once more at peace.
Copyright Emily Joshua
Cum ma lat-ta
Le ma lot tad a ta la
Cum ma lat-ta
Le ma lot tad a ta la
Cum ma lat-ta
Le ma lot tad a ta la
I’ve been a sinner now straight out of the birth canal;
Simple evil from my parents bows;
Rejected, conflicted hopelessly convicted;
Just some flesh running wild;
I wanna be found not lost, don’t wanna be lost and found;
It’s to close for comfort;
Don’t wanna miss out on this bus;
My fare been paid in full;
I don’t wanna be late, got my bags packed;’
Cum ma lat-ta
Le ma lot tad a ta la
Cum ma lat-ta
Le ma lot tad a ta la
Cum ma lat-ta
Le ma lot tad a ta la
Rejected, conflicted hopelessly convicted;
Just some flesh running wild;
I wanna be found not lost, don’t wanna be lost and found;
There ain’t no buses or trains that go up into heaven?
6/24/18
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.©2018
Not a slogan nor advertisement
Fair exchange
Commuters listen and wonder
Poetry words coming to life
The ride with readings from actual Poets
Poetry of all kinds sharing beyond compare
Moment in write of Poetry time
Through traffic of rush hour
It becomes the assemble
Poetry readings commuter sit
Inspiring and uplifting fit
Words that never quit
Discerning gift
Direct craft
Something never done before
Words after words no can ignore
Unique and Genuine
Words that are kind
Transit Bus Poetry tone
A Poets doing their thing in letting it be known.
I gave up my drivers license because of my poor eyesight,
but after two surgeries I have my eyesight back;
so, I must take the driving test again and learn all rules,
especially all the traffic signs and lights.
Stop, yield, no parking, no left, etc turn, school bus stops,
the buses are in a range of sizes but are all yellow;
with SCHOOL BUS displayed, we must stop 20 meters away,
either from the back or front and watch for kids.
Some buse have red flashing lights, some have stop sign arms,
we must remain stopped until the the bus is finished;
even so, be careful for children walking across the street,
and children running and darting out suddenly.
Often there is a school bus crossing guard, with a stop sign,
stop your car on the line, remain until everyone;
has crossed and then proceed slowly, kids are unpredictable,
so be ready to stop your car at any moment.
Gentle Prof –
The tales were so loudly told
Of new buses, of omnibuses;
Your tales-bearers so numerous
Loud-sounding speakers
Sharp ear-piercing trumpeters
Harping like some prime oracles
Announcing the benevolence of the deity
Each weaver sing-wept for joy
Even in these hard times!
Where are the buses?
Where are the omnibuses?
In a trick of sacrifice
Within the shrines of smaller deities
The gallant wheels bear the kids
Of our rabbi-bosses
Pampering their swap-ward women & maids
Like the ambrosia & emerald of deities
(Prof, a watch-lad saw them)
Was this intent?
Then on the day of campus turmoil
A new elephant-wheel came to us
(Prof, a watch-lad saw it all!)
Lads & lasses beamed as bosses
In the gallantry of a new conveyancer
– Was this intent? –
(Pro, think well now!)
Was it the trick of old bosses
To cover another clear loophole:
To dim the eye of the sun?
theyer back on the bus stop
see them on the block
sandy put them to a stop
now after they rain and the pain
theyer back its fact
theyer smoking gunning
the
BUSES OR UP AND RUNING