What’s significant about buses town dwelling?
Detailed town
A creation that was started long ago
Onward West became Homebound ho
People would park their buses not knowing it would become a town
It was really like a rest area, but permanent residence it became
Buses are still being held up by their wheels
The town is now a center piece
Calling home at least
Cars pass through are intrigued
You won’t find a stream, lake nor river
Buses get their water pumped underground
However, when rainy weather comes, you will see a puddle that could built up to a lake
The buses are permanent motor homes will all the comforts of a solid home stationery
Wonders never cease
Give me a home where I can roam
Home sweet home
A bus town dwelling can be found
Minutes from the highway
Homeward onward calling home.
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.
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.
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.
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.
The smell of an old school bus still lingers to this day
Dedicated to Susie Robinson and her mother Betty Elmore
gratitude breaks through
reflections on historic rites…
yellow school 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 sellers
Without you we are Nothing!
they going home
some comming from
rome
is can be insane
and a pain
travel
by
BUSES
PLANE AND TRAIN
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
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
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
it was a bad
very very sad
nuthin was handy
to fight hurracain sandy
there was
lots of thing out all this STUFF
NO BUSES
NO TRAIN it was a bad thing
could get home
and i was's alone
it was insane
NO BUSES NO TRAIN
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.
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