the colour of our lives

poetry • celebration • faith • nature • humanity • imperfections • glory

the driver

The driver hated
us this morning; standing
hard on the brakes, bus
lurching around each corner.
Getting off, we roll our eyes.

The bus, proxy for
argument lost with his wife,
a bullying boss?
In fuming economy
of words, he masters his day

while we, the passive,
are content, simply, to arrive
intact. We accept
out of respect, selfishness,
perhaps self-recognition.



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10 thoughts on “the driver

  1. “perhaps self-recognition” – I like the ending and the way it captures the internal quality of the experience while the rest of the poem describes the external experience. Ain’t it the truth? as they say.
    I have always wished I could take some snapshot of the day and turn it into a good poem, but with me everything is abstraction. I wonder if I have autistic tendencies? I have in mind a particular event I would like to turn into a poem but I truly have no idea how to go about it and keep hoping it will just come. Your poem makes me intend to continue working on it.

    • Thank you Carroll. Not making any assumptions about you but Les Murray, possibly Australia’s most celebrated contemporary poet was slightly autistic; Asperger’s Syndrome I believe.

      • My oldest daughter is a teacher for autistic children. I’ve never had the nerve to ask her if I have autistic tendencies. But she told me once that a symptom of autism is lack of the sense of humor, and at least that one I don’t have. Or I think I don’t have it. Come to think of it, no one laughs at my jokes…

  2. I’ve been on that bus, too! As Carroll says, a snapshot turned into a good poem; an everyday experience that leads to self-examination and ultimately empathy. Beautifully expressed.

  3. I will try to do better today

    ha ha

    I am not a bus driver but can claim “guilty” to similar things.

    very nice feel to your poem

  4. Thanks! – and thanks for visiting
    peace, –D 🙂
    P.S. I checked out some of your work; wonderful ideas, I’ll try to do them more justice at some stage.

  5. Reminds me of a Dilbert quote: “Why do the craziest people always define reality?”…

  6. upsets me.
    my husband drives out his frustration, as did my father.
    makes me scared.

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