Best Transit Poems


Heathrow, In Transit

The warmth of Nairobi in January is gone now.
Here it's cold and drizzly, a savannah 
of tarmac and metal jumbos before me.  
My natural rhythms have given way
to this soaring erratic chase of the sun.
But I return to warmth—the desert heat
of southern Arizona, and the ardent glow
of my heart when I hold you in my arms.

Transit

One can escape 

the seriousness of the weekend 

by hiding behind one of the booths 

at the land checkpoints.

Premium Member Feathers In Transit

While
plumes
flutter
in rhythm,
swans twirl a ballet
girdling  through agile quills aflight
and pivot in choreography of glazed moondance
till wings leave at  finale's point  when icy November appears on a graywashed stage.



Contest Form- F sponsored by Broken Wings
1..28..2017


Lost In Transit

Poems lost in transit
That I forgot to save;
It feels just like a memory
That was taken away.

Thoughts and lines once thought of
But never written down,
Fade into lost history...
Fade into the ground,

And I am left with nothing,
No key to pull them out.
If I don't save them when they come
The seed will never sprout.

Poems lost in transit,
Memories just washing astray,
Words that were once worth writing;
Dark, and fading away.

Transit

I go with you in your travels
from one end to the other
Pacing onward to the other side
and back again,
Always near but not quite there.

So remote and new are these end points
with pleasures and hesitations
between the stops.

Is it unkowing or curosity
that poke you into motion? 
or 
The newness of it
and even newer if you don't get to it
that makes you stretch it even more?

Or is it the fear
that if you stop that's when you are
closer to it, 
like you have never been before? 
losing yourself to it
becoming one?

Transit Lounge

In here, the coolness
is other-worldly.

On the conveyors, the passengers
seem to float towards their destination.

Down on the tarmac, a plane's wing
welcomes in more passengers
departing, walking from the shuttle bus,
their feet unseen in the rising evening fog.

From somewhere
trails a haunting nocturne 
as a disembodied voice calls out 
to milling throng to follow dociley
as lambs.

Some stay a little longer,
to indulge in tote-home vanities:
XO, Dunhill, Toblerone, Joop. . . .

The list is long,
as are the queues
to gates, some moving 
the other way, a lot with luggage
bowed, a few with only gate cards
and their tickets sticking out
from jackets' pockets
like brazen tongues.

Some read the monitors
with vapid faces, others doze,
babies whimper, 
many take a last bite 
at "The Wonders of the World."

Again, the disembodied voice
seems to intone:
 "In my Father's house
there are many mansions."

The angels of cleanliness
sweep the leavings
from the tomb-cold floor.


Sit Transit Gloria Mundi

Sit Transit Gloria Mundi
Rick Folker

Our current consumptive culture
Salivates over
"Tech" and "Cell" and "Screen"
That transmits the lurid, pornographic
Apocalyptic scenes.

We long for the end
Of the endless 24/7 hollow info
Hoping, even praying that 
The Moral Arc would start to bend.

The dreadful, the destitute in their death throes
Are caught by our ever-present lens;
The Schadenfreude tourist 
Documenting the world's worsening
woes.

We check off the trauma 
As part of our Holy Bucket List
And tune in and tune out of another
Kardashian/Jerry Springer blitz.

All along we lurch from crisis to crisis
Bankers scot free, Blacks burned in worship
While blaming the ever-elusive Isis

White supremacy in the land of the free?
The clown in the White house doesn't get it ....

Or does he

Premium Member In-Transit Here

Swiftly the years swing away fast,
Memory steers both first and last;
Swiftly the sad dissolves in mists,
Memory bad rescinds old lists.


Quickly sad times forlorn and old,
Memory chimes to forfeit cold;
Quickly bad things dilute with age,
Memory flings thoughts that outrage.


Promptly pains told die not easy,
Memory cold now speaks oddly;
Promptly freak spawns drift out and die,
Memory pawns away harsh sighs.


Clearly new good spring from old bad,
Memory moods happy from sad;
Clearly new highs weed out old lows,
Memory sighs with busy glow.


Wisely new fads edge vain pains,
Memory adds to present gains;
Wisely soul knows choice that sets free,
Memory grows ever surely.


Truly the past is but a swing,
Memory lasts yet ever flings;
Truly the now is present here,
Memory vows a poise set clear.


Timely each soul comes down to earth,
Memory holds from death to birth;
Timely the span from hearth to hearth,
Memory scans cycles on earth.


Calmly soul knows beyond mere trends,
Memory grows the scheme and plan;
Calmly heart fits wise feel and zest,
Memory bits charm journey's quest.


Leon Enriquez
22 Mar 2014
Singapore

Premium Member Haiku Transit

Sudden rain
Wetness blankets;
Soaking clothes


People scurry
Scarce shelter;
Drenching everything


Rainy day chimes
Taxis taken;
Cold draught shivers


Misty roads
Water puddles surge;
Shoes soaking stains


Winding path
In the murky park;
Muddy waters


Bad weather
Traffic congestion;
Wet road accident


Durians harvest
Hot humid season;
Abrupt downpour


Cold and wet
Drenched skin;
Frozen shivers


Lightning surge
Shocking thunder;
Wet windfall


By this old tree
Shivering cold;
Awaiting salvation


Pregnant rain
Redecorates;
Watery stockpile


On my way home
Heavy downpour
Washes my attire


If only
I expected
Bad weather


Words on paper
Washed away;
By persistent rain


Leon Enriquez
18 Apr 2014
Singapore

Quasi Mote - Oh Ephemeral Transit Across Proto Zones

Quasi Mote - Oh Ephemeral Transit Across Proto Zones!

Strictly speculation from this mind,
who contemplates stripped down version
bajillion eons ago
cosmic bit sized dots
pinwheeled thru spatial void

repulsed and/or attracted
colluding (putin on the Ritz)
infinitesimal show stopper
devoid of prior rehearsal
since previous cosmic contraction

absent remembrance
tabula rasa, viz consciousness
if rebooted, reincarnated,
repurposed, et cetera,
asper knowing nothing

perchance if previous rendition
courtesy big bang phenomena
commissioned swirling pretty
little invisible thangs
dust mote size

universe created, vis a vis
most violent explosion
blasting subatomic tidbits
bestowing, endowing, issuing, et cetera
propensity, allowing, 

enabling, and providing
spontaneous quixotic, narcotic,
and kinetic (kit) impulse
gifted, kindled plenti
tinder vittle loving care,

(albeit on quark hilly
weigh small scale),
each unique data packet of life
transiently questing organic matter
linkedin within uber 

webbed wide world
thrust by motive forces distilled
since primordial ooze
painstakingly agglomerated
electron's micro gravitational tug

incrementally configured 
viable combinations
propelled to fraternize, collide, amass
with other distinct minuscule entities
democratic, platonic, and symbiotic

tete a tete kickstarting avast
differentiation, golong 
engendering hulu costs indeed
pensively trumpeting, 
deploying, and fracking

the art of the Stormy Daniels deal
eventually across great swaths of time
inaugurating edifice of complex systems
(again unimaginatively teeny tiny
timid uber pinhead size zealots)

livingsocial hoity toity groupon outlook
accruing quicken fancy feast
to concatenate, generate, and get linkedin
with hotmail to discover
visa vis whatsapp
penning with Molly Q. Wells!

Oblivious Transit To Astral Sphere

Transcendent meditative
ascendance assuaged
deep sleep grogginess resultant
resounding residual REM cycles
profound dreams decreasingly faint grip
fading fast, yet...

after effects heavily linger
courtesy toehold subconscious sojourn
oft times mentally exhausting,
nonetheless requisite sleep
house strikingly  vivid dreams
salutary, revelatory truthfully...

unconscious voyage analogous
20,000 leagues under the sea
beheld wide webbed world
only privy to yours truly,
albeit x number
unconscious blinks of shuteye

upon uninterruptedly awakening
post immersion into pseudo
submarine (private Nautilus)
isolation chamber
immediately submerged
foreign territory,
(no matter linkedin

with cerebral minescape - mine)
good n plenti evocations
timed to vanish without a trace
akin to radioactive isotope
with very fleeting half life
fantastic, emphatic, dramatic...

dreams immediately dissipated
anointing emerging wakefulness
unshakable drunken like stupor
meditation coaxed away
comatose zombie state
transitioning me to manageable

lightness of being
allowing, enabling, providing
lucid adjustment beneficial
to handle quotidian
dose of unexpected challenges
honing coping skills

courtesy holistic morning routine,
NOT sitting lotus pose
(this body would vehemently protest,
nor could this fella ever walk again),
thus I become
comfortably numb

merely resting seated,
head propped against pillow
subtly easing into trance
approximately forty five minutes
consciously aware breathing
lightly focusing attention

upon inhalations, and exhalations
effortlessly, fittingly, gently...
shuttering out external noises
ideally experiencing internal
calmness, electrified, fortified, galvanized
heightened mindfulness.

In Transit

A blind spot	
was clinging on to earth.
        Point of entry had
        an eye against eye.

obsidian falls
unshaved. The guilt
        of dawn was palpable.
        A nimbus surrounds the pain.

A microdrone takes on
the spider. Diffusion of
        hydrogen sulfide starts.
        Don’t break the window.

Through my love, I touch
you on face with ashen fingers.
         I step out from the hawk’s talons
         into the prophecy.

Satish Verma

Transit

I sit upon a slickly red covered seat, 
Across; closed eyes, computer gazing, blank faces.
Red squared environmental bags, 
back packs on hunched-back backs.

A distance traveled on my cushions, 
has come to a halt, 
doors mouths opening, 
waiting for my entrance ---
I stand sneaking quick peaks at absent faces....

Premium Member Moments In Transit

You can't recapture it,
can't ride that horse again.
The moment you started this poem
is gone.
The flowers in your garden have grown
or died
since you started this poem.
The universe has expanded and
stars have been born and died
since you started this poem.

Accept that you can't stop the moments.
Have you ever read something and wondered
who wrote it?
And then you realized it was you!
You in a different moment.
A different you in a different moment!

Tragedy or victory go to memory and then gone.
World record, a memory and then gone.
Tattoos on arm, a memory and then gone.
You, a memory and then gone.

Premium Member Transit

Take your sweet time,
Rest in sure reach;
Apt signs meet mime,
Note a new niche;
Strange turn of wit,
Ice cold brain freeze;
Twirl of odd bits.
Real as a sneeze,
Etch a deep trip,
Feel moments swirl;
Rise with sure grip,
Address the world;
Indulge keen art,
Nurture fine start.




Leon Enriquez
27 January 2015
Singapore

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