Buses Poems

POETRY ON TRANSIT BUSES

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

On Safety for School Buses

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

Stopping for School Buses

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,

Buses 16, 38 or 133

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

School buses

The smell of an old school bus still lingers to this day

Dedicated to Susie Robinson and her mother Betty Elmore

Celebrating Age

gratitude breaks through
reflections on historic rites…
yellow school buses

Buses

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

Bushman Among the Buses

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

Buses Planes and Train

they going home
some comming from 
rome
is  can be insane
and a pain
travel
by
BUSES 
PLANE  AND TRAIN

There Cum Ma Lat-Ta Le Ma Lot Tad a Ta Laaint No Buses Or Trains That Go Up Into Heaven

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

Crayons and City Buses

Some were peeling 
others chipped and cracked
some sat tall and semi-pristine
others were beautifully bent and black
one even wore the colors of 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

Trolley Buses

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

Life's Buses Never Run On Time

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 –

Passionate About Buses

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

Buses Or Up and Running

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

• Short Buses Poems
• Famous Buses Poems
• Best Buses Poems
• Read Buses Poems
• Long Buses Poems
• Buses Quotes