New poems, The Thursday Bus and A Water Fountain

I am posting new poems here (of course) and also on Squidoo, A poem every day explains the project and why I started it but also has a few new poems which are not to be found on this blog. THis is because of the need to minimise the same text on different sites which Google does not like.

There are two new poems in this post, the first is another which came about because of a dearth of ideas -however I think it has actually come out very well. This was one where I wrote out the structure (the main ideas) without considering the poetry. The editing later brought the poetry into existence. This is not my usual way of working and happened because I wrote it walking from the bus stp to my home, a walk of about 20 minutes. I would never have remembered the ideas if I had not noted them down in my handy notebook. It has been through several edits so far and may under go more, but here it is as it exists at the moment.


THE THURSDAY BUS

Every Thursday without fail
I catch a bus at eight;
Unless the bus is not on time
And then I have to wait

When I board the Thursday Bus
I always see this man;
Born in the Caribbean,
He’s far older than I am.

We nod and greet each other
Because we share the bus,
And for a few short minutes
Are friends, the two of us.

The differences are obvious
Nationality and years,
But one more differential,
A belief in god he wears.

I’ve never understood the need
Although sometimes I’ve tried
To believe in something greater,
 A supernatural guide.

He sees his Lord in everything
So should I envy him?
For old and poor, or so it seems,
He wears such pride within.

In the little time I see him
He seems to be fulfilled.
A wonderful achievement
To be so strongly-willed.

The Thursday Bus soon stops for me
I leave him on his own.
His journey takes him far away
On the Thursday Bus alone.
As the poem says, Returning home from work on a Thursday, I have to catch a bus and I always meet this old, West Indian gentleman. We make small talk to pass the time and he often brings Jesus into the conversation. I only travel a few stops before alighting and leaving him to travel on.

The second poem  was inspired by a photograph I took whilst on a weekend trip to Yeovil, Somerset. Seen at Lytes – Cary Manor. Somehow the poem doesn’t seem to be finished, I may yet come back to it complete the piece.

On Seeing A Water Fountain
Water bubbling from an urn
Falling in an arc returns
To the pool from whence it came.

Splashing on it’s joyful way
Wets the statue in it’s way
Singing as it finds its home.

Such a peaceful, calming sound
Glad am I to be around
That fountain calling to me.

Water pumped from holding pool
Sprays the air and makes it cool
Offering tranquillity.

The days at peace, so am I
Watching water from so high
Cascade tinkling down again.

From that urn held up so tight
Stony grip maintains the height
Water falls like silv’ry rain
Playful in it’s merry game.

Addendum: I have decided that the third line in the three line verses, should be two syllables longer. Just found that this helped to make the whole poem flow better. I will be editing and reposting in my next post. Simply shows my writing procedure, if it doesn't work then alter it.