Welcome Visitor: Login to the siteJoin the site

Transportation Series

Poetry By: CaroHirsch12

These are two poems that I worked on in transit somewhere. It is interesting how things move us in the world.

Submitted:Nov 19, 2012    Reads: 34    Comments: 1    Likes: 0   


The cold steel overhang,

And Im there.

Transport, transfix, transcontinental.

Mess of wires and books and pages and coffee and bags that


Underneath, cold and hard, support.

A sneeze behind, a viral transportation mechanism.

Only the tufts of hair can be seen in front.

It sways, it moves, it elopes.

Outside- an industrial jungle of cement and work and peoples brains shoved

Together. In one room.

Songs sweetly sing by. In one ear, sooth the brain, calm me down.

Make it better.

Two hours, forty-six minutes. Of sitting. Of listening.

Alone, typing, calm. Keep calm. Am I here? Am I there?

Where is here?

Good Morning, nay, good afternoon.

Sweatshirts and comfy pants and bright colors. Mixed.

Maybe I will dream about you tonight. Or you. Or you. Or no one.

The conductors crackly-sugary-syrupy voice tells you. You are here. Here is good.

Here is best.

Watch your step.


Stick my back to the seats like Velcro.

Diagonal, across, in front.


High off of the love that the drink gave to your cerebellum. Off kiltering your


A snack,

A smile,

A snore,

A smoke- unlit,

A stare,


Waiting, and pondering, The train doesn't move yet.

Pretzls and newspapers and shoes and little tabs off of tickets scatter the floor. But they are stuck. Unlike us. We are stuck, but moving.

We are able to leave, the doors can open

And we can smile

And regain our lives

And join our friends

And smile. And we can move.


| Email this story Email this Poetry | Add to reading list


About | News | Contact | Your Account | TheNextBigWriter | Self Publishing | Advertise

© 2013 TheNextBigWriter, LLC. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Policy.