An Ode to the City Bus
before i could walk, you carried me
you rocked me through traffic like a cradle, your arms have always felt safe
I have been on many a subway, streetcar, skytrain,
but none can compare to you
you hold me tightly, as if I am a doll in your dollhouse, until I reach my little doll destination, and go about my little doll life
and when I am through with all my little doll errands, I slide back into your familiar seats and allow you to cart me home, watching familiar scenes roll by as if this is a movie I know by heart
headlights flicker past like fireflies through your screens and i count them one by one
when we arrive at my stop, I call my thanks to the driver and navigate the small streets of my neighborhood home, knowing you will be there again every 30 minutes or so between the hours of 6:30a.m. and 10p.m.if I need you
just as you have always been
by Brie Thomson
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Normal is a memory
Normal is a memory, but time moves so slow, so much like it always has, that no one notices.
No one notices that we don't talk about jam anymore, or how beautiful your dress is.
Because have you seen the news? There are war crimes, beloved.
Your dress? The price of weeks of food thirty years ago
And it tastes like small hands working sowing machines.
The jam? No one has time for home mades anymore, my dear. There are tears to be swallowed.
I wonder if there ever was a normalcy, with Sunday brunches and sadness, not depression. Or if it was always a memory.
Always just a few generations out of our reach.
See, I was wrong.
We do notice.
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The Circle (english Version)
One more time
I take back my notebooks
my fountain pen
& I immerse myself in this story
Lots of blood...
Many tears...
Sweat again & again
All three were the first offerings
Added now
Inks... on me... in me
& smiles
Desire & attraction intertwined
Life & creation blended
Reality & imagination fused
Energy breathed in will re-emerge
In a new form full of life
One more time
I will tell
Stories
Feelings
Legends to come
A hidden love story
Music
& a rhythm to drive you
One more time
I hope my words find you
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Reflecting on rejection over the whole weekend.
I never took it well.
You never took it seriously.
A decade later we are strangers again.
And being heart-broken hurts so much no author could ever describe.
Too old for this.
Just saying.
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Yellow and blue
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Untitled Rain Poem
these are the days
that poetry writes best
stormy Friday, you
bring the jump walks
around puddles
and second cup blues
but I don’t have time
for that now
this heavy traffic
made me late for my shift
the rain returned
with cold intentions
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i Wish I was there for U when somebody dropped U on the cold concrete of SoCal
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when the façade fades
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by andwildisthewind
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30 Day Poem Challenge, Day 9
The grass was
A little too long
And wet with dew.
It tickled the knobs of my ankles
The backs of my heel
As we ambled along;
The sun still rising,
The air, warm and thick
Smelling slightly of
Weed, or maybe skunk?
I wouldn't say
It was quiet
There were people talking in the shade
Of one of the lots (I'm guessing that's
Where the smell's coming from),
The distant sound of cars
Encircled us.
But it was
Peaceful.
I felt my shoulders
Drop,
And I breathed.
This isn't so bad.
"Morning Walk" - R. K. Fisher, copyright 2022
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Lamp Light
The waves rippled on the city streets The droplets hung in the search light.
And the endless dance Happens within the Symphonies Light.
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I'm an intern and my job is to enter addresses from hand-written letters into the database and did you know that Joshua Neumann from Hermannstreet 4, Cologne, has a life too
Oh
He's a principal in a small town. I googled it.
A mid-50s couple donated 100 dollars to our cause and I said that's very generous of you and he shrugged and said is it really
Oh
I guess it isn't really. Not for us.
When I came back after New Year the woman I've been working a lot with saw me in the office kitchen and hugged me.
I googled a scrawled address to decipher it and the town was so pretty I'm going to go there on a day trip with some friends. By train. Like we did 2 years ago.
You know what I'm saying, you know it.
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The time that shapes.
The time that forms.
The time that changes.
The time that allows the loss.
The time without you.
The cruel time.
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Yellow
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