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A Bus Ride
It was an evening of grey sky
with the sun scything through the bland
thickness of cloud -- the overhang
of jealous autumn preventing
summer from returning. Nothing
exceptional, about this bus
ride, except that instead of
riding upstairs I sat instead,
traffic side, downstairs, where a
shopper from Clery’s and Arnotts

demanded gangway as she plonked
herself beside me. I regretted
my choice of seating, wishing for
the cigarette and evening-paper
men upstairs. But I dared not ask
her to move, shift all her baggage,
risk the evil glare -- fear had me
a prisoner. Then, we were halfway
up North Strand, a laneway I had
never noticed before between

a hardware shop and an Italian
fish & chip, a narrow laneway
which seemed to rise toward a cottage,
two windows either side of an
opened half-door and an elderly
woman waited, smiling with
unabashed delight at a girl
walking toward her. A girl, my age,
fourteen, maybe younger, her face
covered by the shadow of evening
burnished hair. The sun sheened upon her,

a blessing for the woman by the door,
a moment still savoring in me.

Hi Jimmy,
I really enjoyed this. Very nice use of enjambments and the central strophe is very clear.

Joe

Jimmy what a wonderful new addition about a young man and his adventures. I particular like it for its disassociation from the now, the story could be of an experience 30years ago, 50, or yesterday. I do love a good bus story; there is always a humbling quality to such experiences, even the fictitious ones! And Joe, I am going to have to go find a dictionary to understand what you said, but I am sure I agree with you too!

Thank you Jimmy for your masterful contributions, and reminding me the value of the art of poetry.

I have no idea what Joe said, either... but I'm sure Laurie does . You poetry people know all those relevant terms. Concise and no doubt precise comment, Joe .

I loved your poem, Jimmy.

It was an evening of grey sky
with the sun scything through the bland
thickness of cloud -- the overhang
of jealous autumn preventing
summer from returning. Nothing
exceptional, about this bus
ride . . .

... but an exceptional description of the turning of the seasons !! All of it... and to top it, the real clincher for me "the overhang of jealous autumn preventing summer from returning" [italics mine for emphasis].

. . . her face
covered by the shadow of evening
burnished hair.

Coupling "shadow" with "evening burnished hair" ~ beautiful in themselves and even moreso as an overall image.

and an elderly
woman waited, smiling with
unabashed delight at a girl
walking toward her. . . .

The sun sheened upon her,

a blessing for the woman by the door,
a moment still savoring in me.

I love the heart in this, yours and hers.

What a blessing this clunky experience with a co-passenger brought you.

Thanks for this poem, Jimmy.


~ Lizzy

beautiful, Jimmy O.

You took me back to when I was 16
shopping for mum at the local green grocer's store

there with her dad
in her dad's long fawn, sloppy jumper (wollen top)
long honey-brown, parted in the middle hair
sweetest 14 year old face on the planet
peeking through that dangling golden frame
...my breath stopped
my heart stopped

she walked off carrying the family vegies
and leaving, behind her father
she looked back through her parted locks
right into my eyes

I saw her several times after that
shopping
same routine

then one day,
maybe 3 months later
there she was, quietly
hanging around the front of my house
maybe half an hour

just standing

while I was painting
...the kitchen, in my school holidays
I looked out through the windows
through the lace curtain
beautiful Autumn day

...then it dawned on me

she was waiting
................ for me !
so I went out...

"...and I did not know
I'd be caught in the depths of an undertow"


(By the way Lizzy, her name also was Liz!)

Ooooooo, I can feel the deliciousness of your attraction to her, Mat [that 'namesake' of mine ].

Wonderful description of your encounters and her determination to find you, too. Such sweetness.

I'm so GLAD it finally dawned on you ~ sometimes being 14 is all it takes to miss the obvious .

Thanks for sharing your experience, too .


~ Lizzy