Goldenarticles articles

Commuting hell! - poetry


It's dark, it's cold, its' just six thirty,

thoughts of sleep still dull my brain,

As I bend down, exclusive my coat,

a customer clone, just ahead of you for a train.

Insidious rain, just damp down,

through weak light of creeping dawn,

Paper sandwich bags and old chocolate cups,

blowing past, look so forlorn.

We clump together, like a colony of penguins,

sheltering from the rain,

As we struggle through, an added taxing day,

wait for the business district train.

Alien voices, from concealed speakers,

say there is a change, go to platform four,

Some move fast, must be beginners,

veterans stay still, heard it all before.

Styrofoam flavoured coffee,

"Giant cup for 10 cents saving!".

Smells like an accident, in a discipline lab,

But quells my caffeine craving.

Lurid posters, on the wall,

Sell things, we just don't need.

Early dawn documents rustle,

As some crack to read.

Alien voices, a new problem,

With the business district train,

"Can all commuters, on platform four,

go back to platform one again ! "

Those that stayed, have a deliberate smirk,

written wide upon their face.

While all the 'new boys', like accommodating sheep,

Back crosswise the class race.

In the distance, the illumination of a train,

Raise commuters hopes so high.

But it's just a local luggage train,

That derisively thunders by.

But then at last, a train pulls up,

And we fight to claim a seat.

Lay back relax, in baking clothes,

Commuter hell, at last complete.

John Roberts is a Ad hoc Education Consultant in the UK and boss of JayrConsulting Ltd.

http://www. jayrconsulting. co. uk

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