Jump to content
The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Recommended Posts

Posted

19/09/2008

 

Her eyes closed

She listens to music

Eyes flutter open when

Someone bumps into her

 

He distractedly twirls a ticket

Clearly lost in his thoughts

Empty eyes gazing ahead

He realises he has to get off

 

She is talking on her phone

The volume is rather loud

Sounds like business

No one else really cares

 

He's absorbed by his newspaper

Some economics journal

Held close to his face

Neatly folded away for later use

 

What would they think if they looked at me?

Posted

24/09/2008

 

Packed like sardines in a can

In a long metal tram

Bodies closely pushed together

Fur on fur, leather on leather

 

She thinks that she can still get in

Push her body inside the tram

No one says a word

They just move as much as they can

Posted

These poems are cool so far, Patrick. :-) Nice observations of the subway train and its urban inhabitants, plus I really like the way you draw personal connections to the pictures you paint with the questions that end the first two poems (the ending of the first one resonated to me in particular). The conclusion of the third poem also worked well, with its emphasis on social dynamics... not as personal as the other two, but just as good if not better.

 

Thanks for posting these here, Patrick. :-) Here's hoping there'll be more where that came from.

Posted

29/09/2008

 

Freely given newspapers

Readily thrown away once read

Garbage cans already full

The information absorbed

 

 

on the way to work, where I catch the tram, three free newspapers are given away every morning

Posted

01/10/2008

 

Drunk, this early in the morning?

Or is he just slightly crazy?

Heck, make that majorly wacko,

Screaming at the top of his lungs

 

Shouting about some obscure war

Shouting about his own misery

 

He looks agressive, wants a fight

Doesn't want to let people off the tram

Finally someone pushes him off

This was our morning cinema

  • 1 year later...
Posted

16/11/2009

 

a glimpse into how others might see me nowadays

 

A soft rustle as a page is turned

Only four hundred more to go

A recomforting weight in the hands

As the eyes devour the letters

 

From the corner of an eye

Furtive glances are detected

Passers-by trying to see

What is this tome he reads?

 

He looks captivated by the story

Flicking page after page

Just twenty minutes the journey

On and on he reads

×
×
  • Create New...