The featured image above, is my photo of a painting by Graeme Altman, titled ‘Hopeful-return’, while on display at the Boom Gallery in Geelong, during September 2018.
I was catching a bus home this afternoon, as per normal, after my walk down Pakington St. However, mistakenly I caught the wrong bus !! I looked up, and I did not see the sign. In the long process of hopping on a couple of different buses, I eventually found my way home. During my time of the extra bus trips, I came up with the words of this poem.
Sorry! We Caught The Wrong Bus
Is this the air I breathe?
A misty haze out in front of me
Is this the sky I see?
A big smoggy Vee
High in the mountain plains, flowerless, without bees
Miles of burnt-out wasteland and no trees
Beyond the eroded soils, there’s the earth’s oceans
Mercury settled deep, with a topping of dead fish by the millions
Is this black bitumen I walk on?
Long oily tar rolled out by the ton
Is this real water I drink?
Manufactured I sip. On my knees I do sink!
Mother nature. “Please forgive us!”
We did not know. “Sorry! We caught the wrong bus.”
Today’s poem is in response to Weekly Prompts, and their Wednesday Challenge, which is: Bus Riding! Please go over and visit their fabulous site by clicking > Here.
We endured lonely lockdowns and restriction dangers
Then successfully obeyed the rules of our Lone-Rangers
And bravely negotiated the low tides of dark seas
Today community happiness bows and greets me
The Covid bastard is drowning in our summer breeze
And together we have beaten a heartless disease
Ivor Steven (c) December 2020.
Heartless Bastards. Lyrics “Skin And Bone”
Spent my time here as a child, And now I’m passing through here and it’s all coming back again. Dilapidated buildings down on Main. This small town was crumbling down, it was hard for me to stay.
And, oh, I, I find after all this time, I am back here filled with all these memories. Bittersweet, my home skin and bone. This rust has worn through tearing up beneath the seams.
Driving down Salem Avenue. It’s all so familiar now, but so many things have changed. And the rain came down all around. Washed away the industry, washed it to the sea.
And, oh, I, I find after all this time, I am back here filled with all these memories. Bittersweet, my home skin and bone. This rust has worn through tearing up beneath the seams. And, oh, I want it to be like when I was young. Oh, I want it to be like when I was young.
Over on Weekly Prompts this week, the Wednesday Challenge is the word Sharing! Please go over and visit their fabulous site by clicking >> Here My poem here today was inspired by Colleen’s thoughtful post “Every Ordinary Day”, please click onto this link to read her article >> https://bikecolleenbrown.wordpress.com/2020/12/01/every-day-ordinary/
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 