So, it turns out this Metroverse project is about posting existing poetry on buses, not composing poetry about buses. As a regular Metrobus client, I have to say I am sorely disappointed.
Anyway, it seems a shame to see these go to waste.
First, a tribute to a much-too-long poem by T.S. Eliot with a much-too-long title.
Here, I skip all the purply prose and get straight to the point:
I wait, I wait, blue lips tinged in Colgate
My carriage will not come; this is my fate
for tarrying too long in bathroom
preening
for lingering o’er hot coffee and daydreaming
I grow cold, I grow cold, inside mittens
fingers fold
Through crystal lashes, eyes behold
a sight to stir me from my slumber
Sweet chariot? Alas, wrong number
Free verse is all the rage, of course. It’s easy; no need for rhyme schemes. The only challenge is where to hit the carriage return:
A woman trips; face fills with horror
As Twinkie and chocolate milk
Topple to the floor
Under a seat
The student with the beard and red socks
Adjusts his knapsack, looks away
No Samaritan he
I reach down, grab the treat
Now stained with germs
From a million shoes
She looks at me
And snatches it
Scowling
Here’s one about a bane of bus passengers everywhere:
Coke can dances
rudely tosses
from foot to pole
stops when the bus stops
driver doesn’t know
no one cares
it boarded
without paying
Next, no poetry collection would be complete without a tip of the hat to Ogden Nash:
I think that I shall never see
A bus that goes from A to B
Instead I have to tour the ’burb
Before my foot e’er meets the curb
And finally, two haikus. A very subtle and complex form … nah! Just kidding. Just count up the syllables, and make sure you mention something seasonal:
Another bus comes
In only fifteen minutes
Fall schedule is back
__
Engines roar like blasts
of September hurricanes;
the sleeping teen stirs
Peter Jackson is The Telegram’s commentary editor. Please send your bus poetry to pjackson@thetelegram.com. Twitter: pjackson_NL
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