Commuter Poems - Poems about Commuter

Commuter part deux

You've seen the sunlight
now you mask your pride
Friends tell you where to go

Keep on a straight line
peaceful shades of green
strides past you

There's a commuter strip demur
back to cover hes read his Daily Mail
the burglued fox languishes
Making sense of the passing years


Lost in a wherewithal
Is it time to change ?
to purify your soul
or cry to the

The commuter

You see the sunlight amongst the scree
There was a man 
who couldn't tell me anything
Where there was once the comfort
of the evenings telegraph line
he runs wild amongst shops turned into flatlets
Keep on a straight line
he has changed his mind
where once basson roamed
he guesses himself unfree
fortitude follows the wind

Invisible Commuter

My constant friend,
The invisible commuter.

She’s always there:
On my phone and my computer.

Siri’s her name;
She always perks up at my voice.

I’d shut her down,
But she’d lose agency and choice.

Besides, I fear
That Amazon will flood my house.

Or even worse,
She’ll share our secrets with my spouse!

—————


(For the “Let’s Explore Digital Technology” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Simon Rogerson
2/8/2022)

The Commuter

As flowers fill with summer rain
Commuters board their rush hour train 
Oblivious to all they see 
They must get home in time for tea 

Reflecting on their busy day
Decisions seldom go their way
The simple things that mean a lot
Just too busy – Now forgot

Magic times remain unseen
Now blinded by their dull routine
Tomorrows dreams stay in

Heading To Chicago On a Commuter Train

They are looking out tiny boxes 
traveling toward the city from the suburbs
wearing tennis shoes on their tired feet

Many have left their dress shoes at work
Some stop at a gym on the way, 
these are the high brows who do not punch in

It is Chicago, nineteen ninety-six
My husband is in one of these jam trains
looking

Righteous Riders

Ten thousand eyes will each day pass but not a single one will see,
for the folly of their hubris hides from harsh reality,
and when they pass by homeless people posted prone in poverty,
cold cloaked, they are invisible.

Ten thousand ears will each day pass but not a single one will hear
any proper prayers of the sullen

Urban Commuter Scents and Sensibility

Ten thousand eyes will each day pass but not a single one will see,
because the folly of their hubris hides the harsh reality,
and when they walk past homeless people posted prone in poverty,
cold cloaked, they are invisible.

Ten thousand ears will each day pass but not a single one will hear
any proper prayers of the sullen

Commuter

Sway, rumble, stop.
Swish go the doors.
"Mind the gap."
Shuffle round the floor.

Everyone squeezes.
Can I get a seat?
So many people
You cannot help but meet.

Sway, rumble, stop.
Swish go the doors.									                        	    

Predicament of Kolkata's Bus Commuter

The Predicament of Kolkata’s Bus Commuter

Two dozen perspiring commuters are wearily waiting for the bus,
Exasperated because of the delay and frustrated due to the rush.
The rickety contraption rumbles to a halt on the potholed bumpy road.        Like projectiles, passengers hurtle up, in a desperate hurry to board, 

Dance of the Commuter

Early morning, bleary-eyed
We’re a weaving coffee-carrying crowd
One more sip,  heads bowed
Oh Grief! That train horns loud! 
Sorry! Excuse me!
Opps…Shall we dance?
A frown turns round
Manners & Humour - it's sound

The Commuter Van

My cold not quite over – 
With sniffles and cough – 
I had a commitment
I couldn’t blow off.

The thought of the subway,
Its rush-hour crush,
Was turning my insides,
Congested, to mush.

But then I remembered,
A few blocks away,
Commuter vans idled
Each morning, each day.

And so I inquired –
How much? Was there room?
I paid and was welcomed,
Or so I assume.

In

Commuter Funeral Subway Ride

We all gathered together in the Home Going of Harold Smiley
The story of life in a previous daily ride
But on this day, a deceased body traveling in the stride
A funeral will take place with Coffin and all
The Family gathered in the subway car, and they are all standing tall
The subway ride with words about the

Commuter Widow

Trainspotting 
isn’t fun 
not when she’s dead tired 
arms of jelly 
ears full of tears 
	baby wants 
	baby wants 
pick the kids up 
from school
strawberry jam 
sandwiches uneaten 
traffic jam 
	ma I’m hungry 
	baby wants 
	baby wants 
make the dinner 
bake the cake
bun in the oven 
bending over 
nightly shapes 
the body pays the price

The Commuter

Faith my professor
once said
is like a train
driven on rails
of written truths.

The truth, I ask..
you have lectured 
on wars and famines
the Jewish holocaust
and Old Testament prophesies.

The professor and pastor
smiled and stated
everything will be fulfilled
when the Christ returns
a truth mentioned in the Gospels.

I asked kindly
is faith a leap
like off the Grand Canyon?
he reached out and handed me
a

Perpetual Commuter Struggle

Stuck in a gargantuan feedback loop
Insentive truckers smash turtle shells
Squirrels sprawled with concrete entrails
Gleaming windshields refracting might
Dull relation just business is right

Scratching the ceiling of my nerve
Making blood curdle vengeance fertile
In shell shocked shin splints rampage

Remember to breathe as the poisons pass
As parasities arachnophobe their fist clenched dreams

Ill just stride and take my time
Pride is

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