Commuting anywhere in the world is not very nice. Here l have tried to capture
how my journey to work goes sometimes.
Colin
Last of tea and toast and shoes on, coat and hat, keys, ready to leave.
Outside the door the cold spills into me like a cool mint explosion.
Open the car and start the engine, Hawkwind spills out the speakers,
Scrape the ice away as the heat melts the last from the windshield,
Coat off and step inside check seatbelt and into reverse from here.
A quick turn round and spray the shield clean, ready now for the journey.
Slowly building speed as a cat crosses in front of me, Lucy again!
Cold dark trees bare witness to December, stark severe reality harsh,
Deep blue sky does not reflect the warmth anymore, polar blueness.
Traffic heavy, tempers thin as streams of moisture rise from every car,
Engine warm, inside temperature ok as the traffic report tells me nothing.
People outside walking, faces down and covered away from the cold snap,
Hurried steps to warm themselves as we cascade from one stop to another.
Heavy traffic again he says on the radio, no change there then! Car stops.
Traffic lights stay on red as the tempers furl and fly like the snow in the sky.
Finally away from the malaise of town hardship, running free to work again,
But short relief as one slowcoach decides to slow even further, temper rising.
Indicates to leave, moves on, indicates again, so which one is it then, burning,
Rising heat of impatience as the idiot syndrome again blocks my path, again.
Free at last as Yes sail close to the edge again as we sail away free to run,
Time to catch up where we can, speed cameras allowing little enjoyment..
Dual carriageway at last, speeding free 60 mph, but not for very long,
Speed camera and traps take the enjoyment out of travelling here, always.
So finally my destination, time to park up and turn the car off, still quiet,
Locked up and walking away as a robins song fills the air with melody.
Sun shining but indifferent warmth drives my feet quicker to my work,
Whose door opens and closes, ready again to serve the day, journeys end.
Colin Skilton
Poetry by Colin Skilton
Read 657 times
Written on 2008-12-18 at 23:37
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how my journey to work goes sometimes.
Colin
Reflections of a journey on a cold day
The window pane looks cold as the news tells me its been a bitter night,Last of tea and toast and shoes on, coat and hat, keys, ready to leave.
Outside the door the cold spills into me like a cool mint explosion.
Open the car and start the engine, Hawkwind spills out the speakers,
Scrape the ice away as the heat melts the last from the windshield,
Coat off and step inside check seatbelt and into reverse from here.
A quick turn round and spray the shield clean, ready now for the journey.
Slowly building speed as a cat crosses in front of me, Lucy again!
Cold dark trees bare witness to December, stark severe reality harsh,
Deep blue sky does not reflect the warmth anymore, polar blueness.
Traffic heavy, tempers thin as streams of moisture rise from every car,
Engine warm, inside temperature ok as the traffic report tells me nothing.
People outside walking, faces down and covered away from the cold snap,
Hurried steps to warm themselves as we cascade from one stop to another.
Heavy traffic again he says on the radio, no change there then! Car stops.
Traffic lights stay on red as the tempers furl and fly like the snow in the sky.
Finally away from the malaise of town hardship, running free to work again,
But short relief as one slowcoach decides to slow even further, temper rising.
Indicates to leave, moves on, indicates again, so which one is it then, burning,
Rising heat of impatience as the idiot syndrome again blocks my path, again.
Free at last as Yes sail close to the edge again as we sail away free to run,
Time to catch up where we can, speed cameras allowing little enjoyment..
Dual carriageway at last, speeding free 60 mph, but not for very long,
Speed camera and traps take the enjoyment out of travelling here, always.
So finally my destination, time to park up and turn the car off, still quiet,
Locked up and walking away as a robins song fills the air with melody.
Sun shining but indifferent warmth drives my feet quicker to my work,
Whose door opens and closes, ready again to serve the day, journeys end.
Colin Skilton
Poetry by Colin Skilton
Read 657 times
Written on 2008-12-18 at 23:37
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
