En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Why they take to their heels?

Two young men were on a flying bike,
took an abrupt turn to the right
and lost some of their limbs
dashing against a turning bus to the left.
The driver and the conductor got down
and ran off with all their might.
A passenger, being social, cried:
“ How can I reach my place?
I will torch the bus”
All the passengers stared at him in mute.

A gang of AIDS –borrowers
darted into a crowded bus
and looked daggers at all,
with scaring syringes manned by HIV.
Fear lent all the passengers wings
leaving alone the poor bus-crew
to beg the deadly traders
with looks so alrming!
'HIV can't be drizzled by injection'
wasn't known to common man those days.

A public vehicle fit to be thrown away
was trotting on the road,
mindless of the overtaking private buses.
Before its heart failed,
masked men wielding rusty choppers,
waylaid it, threw stones and petrol bombs
and set fire to it to get release their boss.
The bus-crew and the passengers
Knew no directions in their flight.
--

poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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The Wreck of the Steamer Mohegan

Good people of high and low degree,
I pray ye all to list to me,
And I'll relate a terrible tale of the sea
Concerning the unfortunate steamer, Mohegan,
That against the Manacles Rocks, ran.

'Twas on Friday, the 14th of October, in the year of ninety-eight,
Which alas! must have been a dreadful sight;
She sailed out of the river Thames on Thursday,
While the hearts of the passengers felt light and gay.

And on board there were 133 passengers and crew,
And each one happier than another seemingly to view;
When suddenly the ship received some terrible shocks,
Until at last she ran against the Manacles Rocks.

Dinner was just over when the shock took place,
Which caused fear to be depicted in every face;
Because the ship was ripped open, and the water rushed in,
It was most dreadful to hear, it much such a terrific din.

Then the cries of children and women did rend the air,
And in despair many of them tore their hair
As they clung to their babies in wild despair,
While some of them cried- 'Oh, God, do Thou my babies spare!'

The disaster occurred between seven and eight o'clock at night,
Which caused some of the passengers to faint with fright;
As she struck on the Manacles Rocks between Falmouth and Lizard Head,
Which filled many of the passengers' hearts with dread.

Then the scene that followed was awful to behold,
As the captain hurried to the bridge like a hero bold;
And the seamen rushed manfully to their posts,
While many of the passengers with fear looked as pale as ghosts.

And the poor women and children were chilled to the heart,
And crying aloud for their husbands to come and take their part;
While the officers and crew did their duty manfully,
By launching the boats immediately into the sea.

Then lifebelts were tied round the women and children
By the brave officers and gallant seamen;
While the storm fiend did laugh and angry did roar,
When he saw the boats filled with passengers going towards the shore.

One of the boats, alas! unfortunately was swamped,
Which caused the officers and seamens' courage to be a little damped;
But they were thankful the other boats got safely away,
And tried hard to save the passengers without dismay.

Then a shriek of despair arose as the ship is sinking beneath the wave,
While some of the passengers cried to God their lives to save;
But the angry waves buffetted the breath out of them,
Alas, poor sickly children, also women and men.

Oh, heaven, it was most heartrending to see
A little girl crying and imploring most piteously,
For some one to save her as she didn't want to die,
But, alas, no one seemed to hear her agonizing cry.

For God's sake, boys, get clear, if ye can,
Were the captain's last words spoken like a brave man;
Then he and the officers sank with the ship in the briny deep,
Oh what a pitiful sight, 'tis enough to make one weep.

Oh think of the passengers that have been tempest tossed,
Besides, 100 souls and more, that have been lost;
Also, think of the mariner while on the briny deep,
And pray to God to protect him at night before ye sleep.

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Passengers

The things we think that feel the best.
Most often cause us pain.
So we risk to seek the pleasure.
Again, and again and again.

This is for the ones we hurt the most.
They sit and watch us slowly die.
We sacrifice their little hearts.
We rarely bat an eye.

They are merely passengers.
Riding on our ship.
We unknowingly bring them along.
On our destruction trip.

When we feel the pain.
They feel it even more.
The quest to our destruction.
Lies just beyond the door.

We open it up and walk right in.
The pleasures make us blind.
The innocent little passengers.
They follow right behind.

A tear wells up in the little one’s eye.
And rolls down their little cheek.
But we journey down the road to hell.
Their pain is worth the peek.

Another door, another room.
Further in we go.
The passengers hurt and terrified.
As we continue on our show.

Then when it is all said and done.
And we admit our own defeat.
The innocent little passengers.
Stand behind us bruised and beat.

We turn around and there they are.
We see the damage we’ve done.
The pain for the innocent passengers.
Was not at all worth all our selfish fun.

We say we’re sorry, forgive me please.
Can we leave this all behind.
Not aware of all the scar tissues.
We’ve left in their little minds.

So chose your path so carefully.
With everything you say and do.
The pleasure we seek, it is all lies.
But to our passengers it’s the truth.

We hurt the ones we love the most.
Our actions lead the way.
Remember their tomorrows.
Lie within our todays.

poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Mad Mariner

Mad Mariner rose in the city bus
That slowly on the road
In the crowded of city street
Heated the sleepy passengers
And was tired
Hook, hook, his fingers
Straight to the roof bus
Ran and ran again
He screams
On the city bus
How this could be happen
In the city bus
Apart From
Frighten passengers

poem by Prasetya Utama
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There are no passengers on spaceship earth. We are all crew.

quote by Marshall McLuhan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There are no passengers on spaceship earth. We are all crew.

quote by Herbert Marshall McLuhan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The great rickshaw rider

he carries his newborn child
passengers on the backseat
a widower just cycles
no choice but his bike

father and rickshaw rider
sad thoughts of his dead wife
lovingly holding his child
he rides with his fate

a girl feels her fathers love
happy passengers arrived
a widower and newborn
on their bike for life

@ Ellie Daphne van Stralen

poem by Ellie Daphne van Stralen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Evening walk

Aimless mind slap bang
Coated out to spring
Dressed up, bear body hiding
Set out the old road along

The bus or the tram
Unless may be the train
To right or the left no plan
Time and space came

The side where I belonged to
The tram was on way from left to
Undecided space came think to
Opened the door just get into

Passengers were on seats
Passersby were in streets
Seemed to be direct targets
Looking at their end points

Planned and minded among
Blank and aimless I am
Getting down one by one
One and only in I am

Reverse way to the direction
Same as the tram to go again
Waiting for till times come
End or the beginning no aim

Passengers were on seats
Passersby were in streets
Driver is on the seat
I am also on my seat

All they know their aim
I don't have a plan
Left or the right same
Just for the pass time

poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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No One Wants To Listen To Him

Why are those people screaming,
At the driver of the vehicle?
He didn't cause the wheels to fall off.
I thought they hired full time mechanics,
To monitor the safety of it.

'They do have full time mechanics.'

Shouldn't they be the ones found,
To be at fault for the wheels falling off?
That is in 'their' area of expertise.
I would think.

'Yeah. I agree.
However...
Here is the dilemma.
You see...
They were not hired because they were qualified.
They were hired because they had the look,
And the presence of being mechanics.
Now...
Those that actually had qualifications,
Were denied because they knew the driver...
And supported his position as the best driver around.'

Oh?
But still,
It makes no sense to hold the driver responsible.

'That has been the argument of the driver.
And he has been the one,
Trying to keep the passengers together.
To get the mechanics that were hired,
To at least make attempts...
To get them all back on the road.
But no one wanted to listen to him,
To get the vehicle fixed.

And yet...
They want to convince everyone within listening distance,
That the driver is the reason they are in their present predicament.'

Perhaps they have other reasons and motivations to blame him.

'Oh. you mean the obvious? '

What other reason could they have?
And who are those other people,
Welding the wheels to the frame of the vehicle?
They 'look' as if they are foreigners.

'They claim they just arrived from overseas.
On a sightseeing vacation.
And volunteered their services for free.'

Aren't you a bit suspicious about that?

'Who me?
I could care less who does what to who and why.
I don't mind walking to my destinations.
I have things I want to get done and do,
With my life.'

Why are those foreigners winking at you?

'I have no clue.
Maybe they are overhearing our conversation.'

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Solidarity

The last train stopped at midnight
With the passengers!
A mechanicl fault it seems.
And an old bus towed her
To the last destination!
All the passengers and the disabled train
Gave lot of thanks to the bus.
That's all!

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Stag Party

To the ‘stags' standing up in my carriage,
I realise that one of you is soon to be married,
But please couldn't all of you just take a seat?
And do I really have to listen to that beat?

No doubt you'll all be out on the town tonight,
But to disturb other passengers, you have no right.
Your spirits are obviously soaring way up high,
And I notice that the Guard has turned a blind eye.

Your weekend of fun, I do not wish to mar,
But you are on a train, lads: not in a bar!
You've all obviously had quite a bit to drink:
I wonder what our fellow passengers all think?

Why don't you save the high jinks for later on?
Then, if you want, you can even burst into song!
I had been planning to sit here and read my book,
But, out of the train window, I now sit and look.

The seats on the other carriages were mostly reserved.
Tone it down a bit! You're getting right on my nerves!
This particular carriage, I had no choice, but to pick,
And you guys are really starting to get on my wick.

You're chatting non-stop and laughing out loud:
Why do you have to be such an annoying crowd?
For other passengers, you have no consideration,
And I'm glad that you're leaving at the next station.

poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Titanic

She was built in the city of Belfast;
She was a ship that was built to last.
She was rumoured to be unsinkable,
But, soon happened, the unthinkable.

She left the dockside, to the sound of cheers.
Her ballroom was bedecked with chandeliers.
On champagne and caviar, her passengers dined,
As they left Britain's shore far, far behind.

She steamed across the Atlantic Ocean,
Keeping good time, with a steady motion.
Little did her passengers know what lay ahead,
As they all lay there a-sleeping in their beds.

To avoid an iceberg, her Captain tried,
But ice put a hole in her starboard side.
Into her huge hull, the sea water gushed;
Along the decks, the water soon rushed.

Passengers were awoken from their sleep;
They knew that they were in trouble deep.
Endless tears flowed and lovers kissed,
As the mighty Titanic began to list.

Even when all hope had finally gone,
The band kept going, playing on and on.
Women and children were first to be saved,
But many of the men were lost to the waves.

What happened that night is a mystery,
But the Titanic went down in history.
She now rests down upon the sea bed;
A watery grave for her many dead.

poem by Angela Wybrow
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Bus Travel At Night

it is the loneliest journey
bus travel at night
the driver does not talk
to the conductor
the silence is the silence of the sleep of all the passengers

i follow the road
the signs are intact
there are only lights on the sides of the streets
the trees are black
the leaves are merely shadows

the world passes me by
in complete silence the scenes changes
and all so sudden
the world moves with me
the bus is a bullet

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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High Flier

we're winging our way to foreign lands.
passengers are thinking of soft white sand.
captain Buck is making good time.
He cocks his head, `did you hear that? that's the second time.`
He swears he can hear a honk.
he checks he's stowed his bunk.

With this tailwind they'll do alright
the passengers are enjoying the flight.
`Look out your window, we must each have a screw loose,
isn't that a goose?
for heaven's sake, man, take your foot off the brake,
don't let it overtake! `

poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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The Wreck of the Steamer Stella

'Twas in the month of March and in the year of 1899,
Which will be remembered for a very long time;
The wreck of the steamer "Stella" that was wrecked on the Casquet Rocks,
By losing her bearings in a fog, and received some terrible shocks.

The "Stella" was bound for the Channel Islands on a holiday trip,
And a number of passengers were resolved not to let the chance slip;
And the hearts of the passengers felt light and gay,
As the "Stella" steamed out of the London Docks without delay.

The vessel left London at a quarter-past eleven,
With a full passenger list and a favourable wind from heaven;
And all went well until late in the afternoon,
When all at once a mist arose, alas! too soon.

And as the Channel Islands were approached a fog set in,
Then the passengers began to be afraid and made a chattering din;
And about half-past three o'clock the fog settled down,
Which caused Captain Reeks and the passengers with fear to frown.

And brave Captain Reeks felt rather nervous and discontent,
Because to him it soon became quite evident;
And from his long experience he plainly did see
That the fog was increasing in great density.

Still the "Stella" sailed on at a very rapid rate,
And, oh, heaven! rushed headlong on to her fate,
And passed o'er the jagged rocks without delay,
And her side was ripped open: Oh! horror and dismay!

Then all the passengers felt the terrible shock,
As the "Stella" stuck fast upon the first ledge of rock;
And they rushed to the deck in wild alarm,
While some of them cried: "Oh! God protect us from harm."

Then men clasped wives and daughters, and friends shook hands,
And unmoved Captain Reeks upon the bridge stands;
And he shouted, "Get out the boats without delay!"
Then the sailors and officers began to work without dismay.

Again Captain Reeks cried in a manly clear voice,
"Let the women and children be our first choice!"
Then the boats were loaded in a speedy way,
And with brave seamen to navigate them that felt no dismay.

Then the "Stella" began rapidly for to settle down,
And Captain Reeks gave his last order without a frown,
Shouting, "Men, for yourselves, you'll better look out!"
Which they did, needing no second bidding, without fear or doubt.

Then the male passengers rushed to the boats in wild despair,
While the cries of the women and children rent the air;
Oh, heaven! such a scene ! 'twas enough to make one weep,
To see mothers trying to save their children that were fast asleep.

Brave Captain Reeks stood on the bridge till the ship went down,
With his eyes uplifted towards heaven, and on his face no frown;
And some of the passengers jumped from the ship into the sea,
And tried hard to save their lives right manfully.

But the sufferings of the survivors are pitiful to hear,
And I think all Christian people for them will drop a tear,
Because the rowers of the boata were exhausted with damp and cold;
And the heroine of the wreck was Miss Greta Williams, be it told.

She remained in as open boat with her fellow-passengers and crew,
And sang "O rest in the Lord, and He will come to our rescue";
And for fourteen hours they were rowing on the mighty deep,
And when each man was done with his turn he fell asleep.

And about six o'clock in the morning a man shrieked out,
"There's a sailing boat coming towards us without any doubt";
And before the sailing boat could get near, a steamer hove in sight,
Which proved to be the steamer "Lynx," to their delight.

And they were conveyed to Guernsey without delay,
Poor souls, with their hearts in a state of joy and dismay;
But alas! more than eighty persons have been lost in the briny deep,
But I hope their souls are now in heaven in safe keep.

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Joy on the Trains at Jubilee Time

At the station, the platform is packed.
Soon our train is heading down the track.
As our London-bound train slowly approaches,
I am surprised by the evident lack of coaches.

The ensuing rush to get on, is all rather manic.
The Guard blows his whistle and everyone panics.
Upon the platform, there's soon no one left,
But many new passengers are out of breath.

Once onboard, there is standing room only:
There's certainly no chance of being lonely.
Of vacant seats, I see there is a major lack,
So I stand, holding on to the luggage rack.

Some people are huddled up by the doors,
Whilst others plump for a seat on the floor.
At the next station, they don't release all the doors:
Our already packed train can only take a few more.

By the time that our train reaches Woking,
It's a real nightmare - I wish I was joking,
But passengers are left abandoned on the platform:
Their faces disappointed, they all look so forlorn.

I overhear a number of passengers complain
About the distinct lack of carriages on our train.
During my journey, I spend most of my time
Thinking up sentences which, nicely, rhyme.

By the time our train pulls in to Waterloo,
With my new poem, I am almost through.
We're ten minutes late and the Guard explains
This was due to passengers boarding the train.

When I head home again, it is getting quite late.
And the number of carriages now totals eight.
No one is standing: everybody has a seat.
I travel home in comfort. Oh, what a treat!

poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We Have The Storms On Time

We have the storms on time
in time for more stories to tell

A ship sank carrying a load
of 600 passengers lost and
unaccounted,

A loaded boat
lost in the middle of Surigao
Trench,40 passengers lost
and unaccounted including
a new born child and a sick
mother and the expectant
father:

More stars are shining
tonight and then fade against
the black clouds and the strong winds.

And in the morning
a fifteen-minute silence
for all those that perished,
we say all our prayers in solemn silence.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let Me Entertain You

To the man playing his music loudly onboard my train:
Both you and I can hear your music, oh so very plain.
It doesn't seem to be appreciated by this here crowd.
Tell me, does your music really need to be quite so loud?

To play loud music in a public place, I would not dare,
But, to me, it is very obvious that you just do not care.
If you bought yourself a pair of groovy new headphones,
Then your fellow travellers, on this train, won't need to moan.

To you, your music will still be heard loud and crystal clear,
But, your music, your fellow passengers will not have to hear.
During their journey, some passengers like to have a chat,
And that's perfectly fine by me: I'm totally okay with that.

Spare a thought for those poor people who are trying to read:
To play your music quite so loudly, is there really any need?
From the people who are trying to read newspapers or books,
You certainly seem to be acquiring some pretty dirty looks.

At first, I thought you'd turned the volume up purely by mistake,
But now I realise that you are doing it just for annoyance sake.
I guess that your sole ambition was to be the star attraction?
I hope you feel you've achieved this by your current actions?

Your fellow passengers, you decided you would like to entertain,
But can't you tell from their faces, they think your music is a pain?
I'm sure many people share my view, but don't want to get involved,
So if you could switch your stereo off, the problem would be resolved.

poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Quiet Zone

When travelling on a train, in the ‘Quiet Zone, ’
Why do people have to use their mobile phones?
Above the train’s rumble, they need to be heard,
So they speak very loud, so you hear every word.

On the window, there’s a picture of a phone, with a cross,
But, on some people, this request, to be quiet, is just lost.
They continue to talk on their phones, despite the sign,
And they seem to think that this behaviour is just fine.

People also sit with their earplugs plugged in;
Their music, loud, so you can still hear the din.
You can hear the annoying, tinny sounding beat.
The object of such a zone, such actions defeat.

The train staff can’t watch every passenger there,
But, this disturbance, to others, doesn’t seem fair.
If you’re sitting there, quietly, attempting to read,
With such interruptions, you will fail to succeed.

But, passengers, nowadays, are too scared to moan:
To point out that, this is, indeed, the ‘Quiet Zone.’
They worry that their reminder may be used as an excuse,
For the other person, to turn round and, at them, hurl abuse.

Passengers should show one another more consideration.
In the ‘Quiet Zone’, there shouldn’t be loud communication.
It’s a designated place for those who want to sit and relax;
Not speak loudly or turn their iPod volume up to the max.

poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Devoured Spring

Like cotton candy flakes
they fall on the ground
white and stiff as sand.

In few minutes they turn
the streets and fields
into a silent sea of ice.

Passengers are stranded
Drivers fear to glide
Buses and cars collide.

Why is this long winter
devouring the great
colors of sunny spring?

poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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Trip to Nowhere

The bus stood still in the cul-de-sac,
He knew it had come for him,
For the colours of day were beginning to fade
And the nights had been closing in,
He'd not been bad, as in 'terrible bad'
Was less than a good man, true!
But the bus stood still in the cul-de-sac
With the legend - 'Coming for YOU! '

He waited there by the myrtle hedge
Then he heard the motor catch,
The driver, he was a terrible man
With a cloak and a hood to match,
He stopped the bus with a squeal of brakes
As the doors had folded in,
And rasped, 'Hey Carcass, clamber aboard
Let the ride of your life begin! '

The passengers sat there two by two
All grey in the fading light,
Not one had looked at another in there
In the gloom of their present plight.
They passed the cemetery walls at dusk,
Slowed down, then drove right in,
And sank right under the ground just there
At a stop called - 'THE SEVENTH SIN! '

A sign outside said 'Vanity',
Another sign said 'Lust',
Most of the passengers got off there
And promptly turned to dust!
The driver laughed in the back of his throat
And thrust the bus in gear:
'We'll find a stop that will suit you more
If it takes to the end of the year! '

A host got off at 'Gluttony',
Another few at 'Greed',
Most of the rest at 'Envy' left
Who'd wanted more than their need.
That left but two of them seated there
On the bus that was bound for Hell,
The other guy blanched when they got to 'Sloth',
Reached up, and tinkled the bell.

Then just the one who'd clambered aboard
Was left with a stop to go,
He clutched a briefcase under his arm,
And yelled, 'You drive too slow! '
The driver growled, and planted his foot,
On the bus that carried the dead,
'Don't mess with me, ' said the passenger,
'I've a deadline, straight ahead! '

The bus pulled up at the 'Anger' stop,
The driver had turned and grinned,
As the passenger paused on the outer step
He said, 'You'll see, my friend...
You'd better pick up your pension now,
Your future's in grave doubt...'
And he stepped on down at the final stop
As the flames rose round and about.

The Devil stood by the Welcome Mat,
All horns and tail, at his best,
Was dressed in his charming goat-hair suit
To greet his important guest.
The passenger opened his briefcase then,
Pulled papers out, and a pen,
'Just sign at the bottom, you hairy goat,
Then you can be gone again! '

The Devil spluttered, 'I rule this roost,
I'm sending you into the fire! '
The passenger curled his lip, said this
Was a Hostile Take-over!
'They listed you up on the Stock Exchange,
And we had sufficient clout,
There's rules, you know, of Monopolies,
And you've just been voted out.'

The sulphurous lake of fire went out,
And steam rose up in the dark,
'This set-up is so old-fashioned now,
We're breaking it all apart.
We've sold off 'Greed' to the Barristers,
And 'Gluttony' to Big Mac,
While 'Envy's' gone to the smaller Banks,
They know what to do with that! '

The Devil's tail had drooped at that,
'What is there left for me? '
'We're not inhuman, ' the passenger said,
'The shareholders agreed...
They left you in charge of 'Anger' so
You can still rage up and down,
But you'll have to start wearing a business suit
If you're planning to come to town.'

The Devil sits at his city desk
And chews at the end of his pen,
He hasn't written so many complaints
Since God and the Lord knows when,
While over the street is the enemy,
'Gas Fires and Kitchen Sinks',
The Corporation that brought him down
Now known as 'Hellfire Inc.'

20 June 2010

poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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