Another Poor Bus Soul By Sinead McKeever

Another Poor Bus Soul

By Sinead McKeever


The street is still 
The air is biting 
My frozen finger tips and nose 
Causing it to wrinkle
The lights on the trees twinkle 
And you are caught in a small wrinkle 
Of time 
A fleeting moment 
Pause 
Rewind 

A red man turns green 
A small man crosses the street 
And wonders where the rain went
Cracked lips 
And cracked pavement 
Cracking open so slowly 
That no one notices 
Eventually cracking so wide 
it will cause a black hole 
and swallow the whole city inside

A smile on the face of a small child 
Is as beautiful as all the seven wonders 
The sunset over the city 
I stand upon hope street 
And wait for the bus 
My only hope and wish would be to see you again 
Maybe if there was a dream street 
I could meet you there 
and stand under the stars 
Like before 
The stars, they shine 
But your eyes would have the brightest twinkle 
Caught in a wrinkle 
Of time
Pause.
Rewind

You turned a light on in me 
And I can't switch it off 
It's a sunny part of my mind 
Of the daily grind
A little star to the planet of my heart 
But it's becoming too heavy in orbit 
Great heavy space rubble and star dust 
Let go I must 

The streets are dirty and old and bruised 
Yet somehow brand new and glowing too
Buses sail along these streets 
Holding a host of souls and hopes and dreams
In its' seats and overhead compartments and
Overheard conversations

Mind your head, watch your step 
on the rickety bumpy ride 
Careful, don't stare,
Or make eye contact with anyone 
God forbid you connect with another human being
Another Poor Bus Soul,
We're all tired and old inside,
Don't you know? 
Tired and tied to the bus lanes

Don't break any social norms 
This place is already so forlorn,
Take it easy,
Sail along 
The bus knows where to go 
Watch the world whiz by your window 
Ding
We grind to a halt 
Don't forget to thank the driver 
As you step out into the world 
The cruel world and its' liars 
We're all freezing cold
Shivering in our souls.

How strange, 
To connect with another strange human,
In this strange world
Walk down this road alone 
And get on the bus alone 
One small soul amidst a host of ghosts 
Sit in the shadowy corner
and watch the faces 
The local, the foreigner
All united in the bumpy ride
The bus moves swiftly 
The city sailing by your eyes

Get off the bus and go about your life 
Then get on another bus 
Maybe number five 
Drive into the night 
Deep and black
And go somewhere else 
And never come back 



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 About the author: Sinead McKeever is from Northern Ireland, started writing poetry as a young child but hid it very well from teasing siblings. Inspired to write by: walking around Glasgow, especially at night, the beautiful and wild Irish/ Scottish countryside and people,  funny things friends and random people say, bad breakups, dodgy student living situations, such as: ceilings collapsing etc. Loves spooky things, maybe because born on halloween. Thinks Glasgow is one of the greatest places on earth.

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