Best Seats Poems
rosined bows weeping
small ballerina leaping....
emotions heaping
I throw my exhausted body
Drained of all its strength,
On the small blue seat of the big yellow bus
My body loosens it’s muscles tense.
As I push the window open,
The strong wind gushes in,
Engaging my russet hair in a sprightly dance
To it’s enchanting hymn.
The auric sunlight falls on my tanned face,
The current of warmth revitalises my soul;
From this delicate touch of the ethereal heavens
I recall the galliard back in the days old.
Memories come racing back,
Like a great white horse, young and cheery;
Trotting and galloping to the ends of my soul,
With its snowy mane flowing freely.
And as the giggles and jokes rewind,
I perceived a sensation serene,
A sensation that calmed my racing heart-
A sensation of peace and tranquility.
Peace felt like a seraphic person in disguise:
She took me into her gentle arms and held me tight,
She comforted me in this fast-paced world,
Where being at ease is not quite right.
After an hour or so I retire
Back to my life’s monotonicity,
Regardless of the loquacious people and blaring car horns,
I find peace in these bus seats.
>On our local radio they are talking about getting seats on trains. Greater Anglia who have been awarded the franchise for running trains in East Anglia, are promising great improvements. This reminds me of a couple of incidents that happened many years ago. But hey this is supposed to be poetry.
Talking seats on trains
Long time ago, as a kid.
Mum and dad and their son went out, they did.
I was their foster son, you know.
So with them, I had to go.
By train to the coast, we went did so.
Was a great day we had by the sea.
When travelling back we were tired, you see.
We walked the train’s corridors.
But no vacant seats we saw.
Not to be defeated to first class did go.
And all relaxed in comfort, just so.
Then along came the ticket collector stern as could be.
Said, ‘you should not be here but in class III.’
Dad said, ‘my sergeant major, said to me, why stand-up if you can sit down.
And why sit down, if you can lie down.’
Dad was stern as well, you see.
What followed then you would not believe!
As the ticket collector said, ‘mine said that to me.’
Both were in the Northamptonshire Regiment.
‘Stay right where you are. Don’t move from the spot.’
The ticket collector then did part.
Soon he was back sat opposite dad.
They reminisced both of what they did have.
They talked and talked all the way back.
We kids and mum dozed in comfort, I must say.
Was so nice to travel first class and sitting all the way.
I use the same tactic once.
Whilst in the uniform of the British Army.
Was using a military travel pass you see.
I had only sat down five minutes it’s true.
When the ticket collector came along, yes he did do..
And what you think, he did say?
He clipped my ticket, winked his eye, and just gave a smile and past on his way.
I wonder what they would do today…!
Stanley Russell Harris
The new mad Author
& Poetry Soup Honourable Mentioned. <
Whilst the huge auditorium focused on the plushness of seat,
Lost little children were dying in a street
Far away, out of sight
Out of view of money’s might
Whilst the missionary was struggling to make ends meet
Well-dressed ushers reached out to greet
The sheep that in droves every Sunday flock
To sit in the most revered and favoured block
Whilst the children would learn under a tree
About how Jesus came to set them free
Plump bottoms sank down in luxurious rows
As the volume of the music beautifully grows
Tears streamed down the upheld face
Overwhelmed by music more than by Grace
Hands were reaching in public display
As for lost souls and countries they would all pray
Yet under their noses, under their gaze,
The lost masses and they were on two different ways
One heading down road small and craggy
With bare feet and clothing all shaggy
The others on paths creatively paved
Walking to cars, the spoils of the saved
Heading out to the broad soft highway
To the fenced safe haven where they all stay
Whilst the lost, on roads that are dusty
Exposed to the cold and winds cold and gusty
Find a gate, so incredibly small
That leads to the most wonderful hall
Filled with treasures, heaped in great masses
Filled with healers with ointment for lashes
Filled with love and Grace divine
Filled with bread and delicious wine
And looking down on the lost and weary
On their crying eyes all red and bleary
Reaching out with hand hot and dry
Praying for relief from the vast blue sky
And as the shaggy mourns for the souls that are lost
The financial committee was counting the cost
Of what was left at the end of the day
To send to the poor missionaries so far away
Very little, this month, I’m afraid to say
For the faithful to tithe we should earnestly pray!
Withholding spirit, we bind you now!
They proclaim and shout and pray and bow
empty seats
woman dressed in white
opts to stand
1
Stacked against the odds
in a gamble things go well -
I make the only play I have,,,
with the cards I’ve been dealt
I’ve never been one to settle,,,
for sitting in the cheap seats -
when the bright lights of the good life,,,
are calling me by name.
I’ll choose the life of a winner,,,
or to go down in flames of glory,,
before I’ll give in -
to a life lived in mediocrity.
So roll the dice or flip the card,,,
just hang on cause here we go. .
.It’s better to make the call,,,
than to stand silently through the show.
That’s the way I live my life,,,
both with my money and my time -
I always place my chips,,,
on the sunny side of the deal.
Who care’s about tomorrow,,
If you never lived today-
there’ll be no point in worrying,,,
when you’re laying dead in a grave
(Silly fun write)
Front row seats to an exciting hit show
Especially coveted by their biggest fan
An enormously popular 1960’s fellow,
Or a talented group like Wu-Tang Clan
Not noted for singing soft and mellow.
Written August 12, 2022
The squirrels scamper in the snow
So when they climb the tree,
A dust of whiteness flutters down
Like lace embroidery.
It settles back from whence it came
Until the game resumes
And once again, the threat of havoc
From each squirrel looms.
I'm watching from the windows
On a bright white sunny day
And enjoying, gratis, front row seats
To Nature's matinee.
Seats in Starbucks seem quite scarce
‘Cause laptop users hog ‘em.
Dirty looks won’t make them move –
Perhaps it’s time to flog ‘em.
Sitting in a precious seat
For hours seems quite piggy,
Even if they’re doing work
Or tryin’ to get jiggy.
Other people want to sit
When sippin’ brews or snackin’;
No one has the nerve to ask
Those gluttons to get packin’.
Selfishness today appears
To be the status quo.
Perhaps a Starbucks laptop charge
Just might be apropos.
I feel through senses
You feel common sense
I avoid the fences
You embrace the suspense
It wasn’t a choice
To follow the leader
I too, want a voice
Not just a repeater
But we have assigned seats
In this overpopulated class
I can look, but not touch
I’ll always be last
THE MOST SEATS
Sitting left and sitting right,
For the silence moment you must be quite,
Being a citizen is the most seats.
You must be called a king, sitting on the throne
You are not, if people die because of you
You must be called a leader, leading forward
You are not, if you eat from peoples tears
Being a citizen is the most seats.
Rounding chairs and the flat chairs
Sat by the eater qualified leaders
As they ask, they get, as they command, they get, its corruption
I will not be silent till no corruption_
Out of villages, in the birds’ cry of poverty
Being a citizen is the most seats.
Hail, the vale aches from retraced tattered feet going hither and tither the rambunctious brood, as dawn's golden sleigh race into a sanguine morn, of languishing warmth to sheath from the fleecing errant breeze, of yonder mountaintop, amidst a blanketed respite snow made heavy from the weight of the gods, who sit eyeing the mere mortals workloads that wanes into clear desks and cold seats. Traffic slows in the late afternoon and speeds when loosened while the dusk undresses the night, whose yawns of wearisomeness is inhibited by their backsides while bustling and hustling end, lain ontop of unkept beds.
2020 January 14
A perimeter with firm block seats
For teenagers patrolling the streets;
More needed to strengthen their gossips;
Jokes about Dads who wash plates in ships!
Seat blocks for kids from the Broken Home.
They might on them lie: consoling foam,
Dream of saving marriage blessed in Rome:
Their lost umbrella, Uprooted Dome…
But on this not a concentration
Of honked horns in ears penetration
Some of them flutists’ composition,
One or two ghostly exposition
Stating a warming disposition.
A driver’s wish you watch rolling tyres
So you don’t meet stretcher Risk hires!
Stained blue seats lay docile
Awaiting to be snuggled
They give it their all
to be very comfortable
But lingering heat kills it.
Check all the seats in the front of the bus.
Check every seat, and don't make a fuss.
Check the back seats and the front ones.
Check all the seats for lost daughters and sons.
Check under the seats when the day has ended.
Check on the seats, don't leave any children unattended.