The Poets’ Bus

This is another attempt to push me out of my comfort zone, inspired by Billy Collins’ style. I’d love to hear your thoughts 🙂

The poets take their places,
Row by row, window seats and aisles,
And begin their meditation.

Words are worked, re-worked. Conversations replayed.
Ideas fizzing after the event, safe,
No arena to test them.

The poets sit. Stare dull out of the window,
Blind to nature’s beauty, focus internal,
Among but not with.

No eye contact. Eyes lie.
Better to retreat, cast that critical gaze inward,
Than to risk rejection.

The bus stops.
The poets file out courteously,
Knowing nothing. Learning nothing.

 

Picture credit: flickr.com/photos/alessandrogalantucci/15254181256