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Well, they had a lot of the things they found in his possession. They had the map, you know, that marked the route of the parade. They had statements from the bus driver and the taxicab driver that hauled him somewhere.

quote by Henry Wade
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Magic Bus

Every day I get in the queue (too much, magic bus)
To get on the bus that takes me to you (too much, magic bus)
Im so nervous, I just sit and smile (too much, magic bus)
You house is only another mile (too much, magic bus)
Thank you, driver, for getting me here (too much, magic bus)
Youll be an inspector, have no fear (too much, magic bus)
I dont want to cause no fuss (too much, magic bus)
But can I buy your magic bus? (too much, magic bus)
Nooooooooo!
I dont care how much I pay (too much, magic bus)
I wanna drive my bus to my baby each day (too much, magic bus)
I want it, I want it, I want it, I want it ... (you cant have it!)
Thruppence and sixpence every day
Just to drive to my baby
Thruppence and sixpence each day
cause I drive my baby every way
Magic bus, magic bus, magic bus ...
I said, now Ive got my magic bus (too much, magic bus)
I said, now Ive got my magic bus (too much, magic bus)
I drive my baby every way (too much, magic bus)
Each time I go a different way (too much, magic bus)
I want it, I want it, I want it, I want it ...
Every day youll see the dust (too much, magic bus)
As I drive my baby in my magic bus (too much, magic bus)

song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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Virginia's Story

Elizabeth Gates-Wooten is my Grand mom.

She was born in Canada with her father and brothers.
They owned a Barber Shoppe.
I don't remember exactly where in Canada.
I believe it was right over the border like Windsor or Toronto.
I never knew exactly where it was.

When she was old enough she got married.

First, she married a man by the name of Frank Gates.
He was from Madagascar.
He fathered my mom and her brother and sister.
The boy's name was Frank Gates, Jr.
Two girls name were Anna and Agnes.

Agnes was my mother.

Frank Gates went crazy after the war
He drank a lot and died
Then grandma Elizabeth married a man by the name of Mr. Wooten.
He had a German name, but I don't think he was German.
She took his last name after they got married.

Then they moved to West Virginia in the United States.

Their son, Frank Gates Jr. Became a delegate in the democratic party.
He use to get into a lot of trouble because he liked to fight.
He was a delegate from the 1940's to 1970's.
He died of gout in the 1970's.

Anna was a maid and cook.

She baked cakes and stuff for people as a side line.
She had a hump on her back (scoliosis) .
She had to walk with a cane.
She could cook good though.
She did this kind of work all of her life, just like her mom, Elizabeth

They were both good cooks

They had a lot of money because they had these skills
Especially when people had parties.
Because they would make all of this food and then they would have left-overs.
We got to eat a lot of stuff we normally wouldn't get because of that.
When they cooked, they didn't use no measuring stuff, they would just use there hand.

My moms name was Agnes Barrie Gates.

She married James Wright and moved to Cleveland.

[...] Read more

poem by Talile Ali
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The Bus to Nevermore

The snow lay deep on the countryside
When they left to catch the bus,
Heading out to Milwaukee, first
They left New York in their dust,
The guys were happy and laughing then
To be off on the winter tour,
The pickers picked and the jokers joked
On the bus to Nevermore.

They'd had a couple of hits or three
And they'd topped the charts with one,
The kids were mad for their rock 'n roll
At each auditorium,
The towns they travelled were tiny towns
But the audiences roared,
They rocked Kenosha, then headed out
On the bus to Nevermore.

The heater failed and the bus, it froze
And the smiles then died away,
They huddled up in the cold and dark
But they played each town by day,
They switched their buses, more than once
When the diesel ceased its roar,
But every bus in its turn was just
The bus to Nevermore.

The bus broke down on a lonely road
As the snow fell through the night,
The fields were a winter wonderland
But the cold began to bite,
By the time that a roving patrolman
Found the bus, they were more than sore,
The drummer suffered from frostbite
On the bus to Nevermore.

The tour was running in circles
From Wisconsin to Iowa,
To Minnesota and back again
But nobody seemed to care,
Except the fellows that rode the bus,
Each day they cursed and swore,
'This bus is part of the Devil's fleet!
The bus to Nevermore.'

Tired and dirty and cold they drove
To Appleton, Green Bay,
Then overnight they had huddled up
For the trip to Clear Lake,
They played the show in their crumpled clothes

[...] Read more

poem by David Lewis Paget
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Death Alley Driver

Rough and ready rider
In a supersonic sound machine
Rock and roll survivor
Chrome pipes between your knees
Running all the red lites
Your gonna make a dead stop
But you just cant see the signs
Oh - youll never win the race
But you cant give up the chase
Death alley driver
Living at high speed
Death alley driver...yeah
Death alley driver...who knows what you need
Death alley driver...
One hundred twenty five smokin on the turns
Always on the hit and run
But you never learn...
Running from the man... and youre running
From yourself
Another dirty angel heading straight to hell
Oh - youll never win the race
But you wont give up the chase
Death alley driver...
Live in overdrive...death alley driver...yeah
Death alley driver...ride to stay alive
Death alley driver...
Lets go
Red lights in the mirror
Danger on the band
Got to take a detour cause a road blocks up ahead
He takes you on the corner with a wave of his hand
Death is in the back seat of a big old black sedan
Oh - youll never win the race...
As you turn and see his face...
Death alley driver...
Movin for the kill
Death alley driver...yeah
Death alley driver...
Time is standing still...
Death alley driver...
Always on the run cause youre a...
Death alley driver
Love the way it feels
Death alley driver...yeah
Death alley driver
Hell on wheels...
Death alley driver... ooh -

song performed by Rainbow
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Easy Driver

Easy driver, shes a wicked rider
Shes smooth and shes skinny and shes probably mean
Easy driver, pull up beside her, roll down the window on this fine machine
Chorus:
(ooh ooh ooh) dont turn away, (ooh ooh ooh) just give me a sign
(ooh ooh ooh) dont be afraid, (ooh ooh) love is so hard to find
Easy driver, get on up beside her, she dont drive like she knows the way
Easy driver, roads getting wider
Theres room to run and she might skate away
Come on back, baby what you say
Chorus
One lane away from love, the story of my life
Could I be good enough for your lonely avenue tonight
Its a lonely avenue tonight
Chorus
Easy driver, shes a wicked rider
Shes smooth and shes skinny and shes probably mean
Easy driver, get on up beside her, roll down the window on this fine machine
Easy driver, oh oh oh oh, easy driver, easy driver, easy driver (easy driver)
Easy driver, easy driver, easy driver, easy driver

song performed by Kenny Loggins
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The Insect

From Camoweal to Windywoe, from Windywoe to Thirstyville,
We'll drag the line around the map, along the plain, and up the hill;
Scross the desert, to the swamp, across the swamp and up the rise.
'Our ' Sacred Rights must be preserved, 'our' claims you'll have to recognise.

One night, while others were abed,
With weary eyes and aching head,
I pored for hours and hours upon a map,
Till dots and lines began to swim.
'Suggested routes' grew blurred and dim,
And then, I think, I must have had a nap.

But, with a start,it seemed to me,
I sat boolt upright suddenly,
And gazed, with staring eyes, before me straight;
For there, upon my inkwell's brim,
With aspect most grotesque and grim,
Methought a large, fat, hairy spider sate.

'Good fellow, you behold in me
An insect of repute,' said he.
'I'm that State Insect, so much talked about.
I've frequently been mentioned in
Such papers as THE BULLETIN;
So you have beard of me before, no doubt.

'You've recently,' pursued the brute,
'Been pondering upon the route
Of our Transcontinental Railway Line.
I do not know what views you hold;
But, if it be not deemed too bold,
I'll just acquaint you with a few of mine.'

Then, suddenly, the creature dropped
Heels over head, and downward flopped
Into the pot, and floundered in the ink.
I calmly thought, 'He'll drown, no doubt';
But presently he struggled out
And sat, once more, all dripping, on the brink.

'Ere I proceed to illustrate
The views of each protesting State
Thus did the beast address me from the pot
'Please understand I represent
All phases of State discontent;

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Bus Driver and Bella

Bella used to catch the bus from church gate;
Everyday took same bus which was never late.
Not to miss Bella, driver always reached in time;
Reaching office daily in time, Bella also felt fine.

On seeing her, the driver opened the front door,
She stepped forward smilingly and used to board.
He started feeling joy in heart, never felt before
Cherished in his soul, towards her he was lured.

Whenever not seen her, the driver became sad,
Moved slowly with grave soul feeling the day bad.
Suddenly she stopped coming but he held his time
Reaching the bus stop chanting her names’ rhyme.

When the bus was about to reach that bus stop,
The driver used to see all around but Bella was not.
After a long, Bella was seen standing near the stop
Driver delighted and thought for few words swop.

Driver at once opened front door, asked her to rush.
She too thrown sight and smiled; turned towards bus.
To surprise Bella kept outside and looking at him told
That she had got a car standing near that billboard.

She was waiting for her husband who was nearby,
She wanted perfume for car, he had gone to buy.
They got married a month ago, she was on vacation
Driver put his foot to give bus maximum acceleration.

S.D. Tiwari
email sdtiwari1@gmail.com

poem by S.D. Tiwari
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The wheels on the bus

‘The wheels on the bus
Go round and round
Round and round
Round and round
The wheels on the bus
Go round and round
Round and round
Round and round
All night long’

The driver on the bus goes
Rush rush rush
Rush rush rush
Rush rush rush
The driver on the bus goes
Rush rush rush
Rush rush rush
Rush rush rush
All night long

The children on the bus go
Wow wow wow
Wow wow wow
Wow wow wow
The children on the bus go
Wow wow wow
Wow wow wow
Wow wow wow
All night long

The fathers on the bus go
Blush blush blush
Blush blush blush
Blush blush blush
The fathers on the bus go
Blush blush blush
Blush blush blush
Blush blush blush
All night long

The mothers on the bus go
Hush hush shus
Hush hus hush
Hush hush
The mothers on the bus go
Hush hush hush
All night long

[...] Read more

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Surfin Safari

Surfin safari
Lets go surfin now
Everybodys learning how
Come on a safari with me
(come on a safari with...)
Early in the morning well be startin out
Some honeys will be coming along
Were loading up our woody with our boards inside
And headin out singing our song
Come on (surf route) baby wait and see (surfin safari)
Yes Im gonna (surfin route) take you surfin (surfin safari) with me
Come along (surfin route) baby wait and see (surfin safari)
Yes Im gonna (surfin route) take you surfin (surfin safari) with me
Lets go surfin now everybodys learning how
Come on a safari with me (come on a safari with...)
At huntington and malibu theyre shooting the pier
At rincon theyre walking the nose
Were going on safari to the islands this year
So if youre coming get ready to go
Come on (surfin) baby wait and see (surfin safari)
Yes Im gonna (surf route) take you surfin (surfin safari)with me
Come along (surf route) baby wait and see (surfin safari)
Yes Im gonna (surf route) take you surfin (surfin safari)with me
Lets go surfin now everybodys learning how
Come on a safari with me (come on a safari with...)
Theyre anglin in laguna in cerro azul
Theyre kicking out in dohini too
I tell you surfings mighty wild its getting bigger every day
From hawaii to the shores of peru
Come on (surf route) baby wait and see (surfin safari)
Yes Im gonna (surf route) take you surfin (surfin safari) with me
Come along (surf route) baby wait and see (surfin safari)
Yes Im gonna (surf route) take you surfin (surfin safari) with me
Lets go surfin now everybodys learning how
Come on a safari with me (come on a safari with...)
With me surfin safari.

song performed by Ramones
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The Grand Parade Of Lifeless Packaging

When all this revolution is over, he sits down on a highly polished floor while his dizziness fades away. it is an empty modern hallway and the dreamdoll saleslady sits at the reception desk. wi
Prompting she goes into her rap: this is the grand parade of lifeless packaging, those you are about to see are all in for servicing, except for a small quantity of our new product, in th
Ond gallery. it is all the stock required to cover the existing arrangements of the enterprise. different batches are distributed to area operators, and there are plenty of opportunities for the
E investor. they stretch from the costly care-conditioned to the most reasonable mal-nutritioned. we find here that everyones looks become them. except for the low market mal-nutritioned, each
Ovided with a guarantee for a successful birth and trouble free infancy. there is however only a small amount of variable choice potential - not too far from the mean differential. you see, the
Has predetermined the limits of ac
Tion of any group of packages, but individuals may move off the path if their diversions are counter-balanced by others.
Its the last great adventure left to mankind
- screams a drooping lady
Offering her dreamdolls at less than extortionate prices,
And as the notes and coins are taken out
Im taken in, to the factory floor.
For the grand parade of lifeless packaging
- all ready to use
The grand parade of lifeless packaging
- I just need a fuse.
Got people stocked in every shade,
Must be doing well with trade.
Stamped, addressed, in odd fatality.
That evens out their personality.
With profit potential marked by a sign,
I can recognise some of the production line,
No bite at all in labour bondage,
Just wrinkled wrappers or human bandage.
Grand parade of lifeless packaging
- all ready to use
Its the grand parade of lifeless packaging
- I just need a fuse.
As he wanders along the line of packages, rael notices a familiarity in some of their faces. he finally comes upon some of the members of his old gang and worries about his own safety. running o
Rough the factory floor, he catches sight of his brother john with a number 9 stamped on his forehead.
The hall runs like clockwork
Their hands mark out the time;
Empty in their fullness
Like a frozen pantomime.
Everyones a sales representative
Wearing slogans in their shrine.
Dishing out failsafe superlative,
Brother john is no. 9.
Its the grand parade of lifeless packaging
- all ready to use
Its the grand parade of lifeless packaging
- I just need a fuse.
The decor on the ceiling
Has planned out their future day
I see no sign of free will,
So I guess I have to pay,
Pay my way,
For the grand parade...
Its the grand parade of lifeless packaging
- all ready to use

[...] Read more

song performed by Genesis
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Bus ride at night

At quarter to five
the driver refuses,
that I get on a bus
in Burnett street
because it is already full.

There are men, woman and children
and we talk various languages
while we wait for the bus
and I see a car guard
dancing in the street
while he does tricks like a clown.

We wait on the next bus
and the afternoon passes
and the bus is very late
and it stays away
and just Putco and North Star busses
stop at other places.

At dusk the bus appears
and it’s got a double deck,
but is also full
and on the top level the roof is so low
that I bump my head
while it draws from the curb.

There’s no place to sit down
before we travel halfway to the city
and there’s a crowd of people around me
and we sit tight against each other
and in the front a child is holding onto a bar
while she licks the window with her tongue
and try to draw spit lines.

The bus braids through cars,
but it takes longer than an hour
to ride two stages
and a woman calls her husband
to pick her up at church square.

In Visagie Street the cars stand in a traffic jam
and it becomes night
while we wait in the traffic
and I embark from the bus
and twist through the pedestrians
and everywhere there are people
that stand in dark corners
and alleyways
and shout at each other in foreign languages.

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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I Traveled Once by a Spare-bus!

I traveled once by a spare-bus;
It was from my grand-mother’s house;
I was in hurry and therefore,
I boarded the bus, my college to go.

The seats looked ripped and so much torn;
The old-bus’ body’s bad weld shown;
The iron frame-work shocked to touch;
The window’s glass looked cracked so much;

Without good lights, the bus was dark;
Across the road came dogs to bark;
The diesel-engine’s cranky noise,
Drowned the passengers’ loudest voice.

The cassette played a hoarse, dull song;
All had to listen to the gong;
The conductor, a man quite stout,
‘Tickets, tickets, ’ he began to shout.

While the bus sped up curved roads,
The golden moon too sailed thro’ clouds;
And when it rained, the water came,
Thro’ windows, roof- Oh, what a shame!

Despite all shutters downed (half-torn) ,
The bus was almost flooded soon;
The driver drove the bus so fast,
And soon, we were amidst the ghats.

My body was in severe pain,
For hours, it was a torrential rain;
The driver honked: a dog had crossed!
The bus came to a halt and paused.

The bus was stopped by an old cop;
And very late, I reached my stop;
‘Oh, What a journey! ’ I then thought,
My travel by a spare-bus brought!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-25-2006

poem by John Celes
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Taxi Cab

Taxicab, taxicab at the light
Wont you take me on a ride
Through this city at night
I got some money and Im feelin fine
I aint no hurry so just take your time
Some people wanna die young and gloriously
Well taxicab driver, hey that aint me
I got a cute little baby
Down at 12th and vine
And she opens for business just about closin time
Ah hey hey, ah hey hey
City at night, city at night
I dont believe what I see in this street
I dont know how they can take the heat
Well baby Im a liar, Im a cheat
And I dont care
I got my money, I cant take my fare
Im ridin tonight, Im on my way
Cmon baby...
I can take it or live it, when it comes
Got my baby by the light of the sun
You know she brings it with her and then she comes
Hey, hey, city at night
Hey, hey, city at night
Ride on

song performed by Bruce Springsteen
Added by Lucian Velea
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Thanks A Lot, Mom

Thanks a Lot, Mom

Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for loving me to no end.
Thanks for being my loving mother.
Thanks for being my thoughtful friend.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for feeding me and giving me a home.
Thanks for clothing me and holding me tight.
Thanks for caring when I felt alone.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for always making me smile.
Thanks for giving me the extra push.
Thanks for going that extra mile.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for living with no regrets.
Thanks for being the life of the party.
Thanks for going all in on bets.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for being my inspiration.
Thanks for helping me with my homework.
Thanks for giving me motivation.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for treating me with respect.
Thanks for knowing I'm growing up.
Thanks for knowing what to expect.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for kicking me while I was down.
Thanks for telling me I'm a liar.
Thanks for knowing what comes around.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for giving me my many scars.
Thanks for making me feel at home.
Thanks for breaking my aching heart.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for taking away my friends.
Thanks for taking away my family.
Thanks for not having to pretend.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for kicking me out of my home.
Thanks for calling me cheap and attention-seeking.
Thanks for putting me out on my own.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for ripping away my Brett.
Thanks for saying you don't remember.
Thanks for saying I should forget.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for believing your husband over your kid.
Thanks for rewarding him for a crime.
Thanks for punishing me for what he did.

[...] Read more

poem by Rebecca Paul
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I wonder what a bus ticket buys

The driver fights with a passenger
that she thinks sleeps at times
on the top level of the bus
and something must be wrong
in her life
as she climbs into a child
because he did not take a school bus

I wonder what
a bus ticket buys,
but it stays far better
to take a bus
than to have to walk a long distance.

I wonder
if it takes a special person
to drive a bus,
or what rights it gives
above that of other people
if you climb behind the steering
of a bus?

Somebody asks the white
bus driver lady
for what she is looking
this morning and suddenly
she’s silent
and I can ride in peace further
while she swallows her tongue.

Bus drivers that are rude
I have experience a lot of times
and it has happened
that one stares hateful
at me
because I am white
and wanted to cut
every ticket of the coupon.

Still I am thankful
to use a bus
when I need one
and that some drivers
makes it a pleasure
to drive with them.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Halloween Quartet No 1 Graveyard Special

Standing at the bus stop waiting,
when the stranger asked.
“Has anyone seen the Graveyard Special?
I hope I haven’t missed it
or they won’t let me out next year.”
I shook my head and said. “Sorry, no.”
The stranger turned to me.
He wore a tuxedo, bow tie and patent polished shoes.
He looked like a dancer
and an odd smell rose around him
that of rotting decay.
“Been a nice night, hasn’t it.”
“Yes, but they forecast rain.”
“Been out with your girlfriend
and now catching the last bus home? ”
“No, I haven’t got one.”
A cloud passed across the moon
and the strangers face became partially visible
under the pale light of the moon.
A pale face with a sullen look
engraved with hard shadows.
“Going home? ” I asked,
“Yes, we are only allowed out once a year.”
“You live in an old people’s home? ”
“Something like that.” Returned a whispery reply.
A mist descended and swirled around us.
“My bus I can see it.”
The mist became thicker swallowing us up.
The brightly lit bus stopped,
its destination board read Graveyard Special.
The stranger got on and the bus doors shut.
Into the mist, it went to be swallowed up.
The mist then evaporated as quickly as it came.
My bus arrived and as I paid my ticket I remarked.
“I didn’t know the bus company
put on a special bus just for Halloween.”
The driver shook his head and said.
“They don’t, that bus is for the dead ones
who get out once a year.
I have been following it on its route
as it picks them up one by one
to take them back before
the first streaks of dawn appear in the sky.
It takes them back to the graveyard
for another year to stay.”
Getting my ticket, I sat
my hands trembling at the thought
that I had spoken to a ghost.

poem by David Harris
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Trip to Nowhere

The bus stood still in the cul-de-sac,
He knew it had come for him,
For the colours of day were beginning to fade
And the nights had been closing in,
He'd not been bad, as in 'terrible bad'
Was less than a good man, true!
But the bus stood still in the cul-de-sac
With the legend - 'Coming for YOU! '

He waited there by the myrtle hedge
Then he heard the motor catch,
The driver, he was a terrible man
With a cloak and a hood to match,
He stopped the bus with a squeal of brakes
As the doors had folded in,
And rasped, 'Hey Carcass, clamber aboard
Let the ride of your life begin! '

The passengers sat there two by two
All grey in the fading light,
Not one had looked at another in there
In the gloom of their present plight.
They passed the cemetery walls at dusk,
Slowed down, then drove right in,
And sank right under the ground just there
At a stop called - 'THE SEVENTH SIN! '

A sign outside said 'Vanity',
Another sign said 'Lust',
Most of the passengers got off there
And promptly turned to dust!
The driver laughed in the back of his throat
And thrust the bus in gear:
'We'll find a stop that will suit you more
If it takes to the end of the year! '

A host got off at 'Gluttony',
Another few at 'Greed',
Most of the rest at 'Envy' left
Who'd wanted more than their need.
That left but two of them seated there
On the bus that was bound for Hell,
The other guy blanched when they got to 'Sloth',
Reached up, and tinkled the bell.

Then just the one who'd clambered aboard
Was left with a stop to go,
He clutched a briefcase under his arm,
And yelled, 'You drive too slow! '
The driver growled, and planted his foot,

[...] Read more

poem by David Lewis Paget
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The Iliad: Book 23

Thus did they make their moan throughout the city, while the
Achaeans when they reached the Hellespont went back every man to his
own ship. But Achilles would not let the Myrmidons go, and spoke to
his brave comrades saying, "Myrmidons, famed horsemen and my own
trusted friends, not yet, forsooth, let us unyoke, but with horse
and chariot draw near to the body and mourn Patroclus, in due honour
to the dead. When we have had full comfort of lamentation we will
unyoke our horses and take supper all of us here."
On this they all joined in a cry of wailing and Achilles led them in
their lament. Thrice did they drive their chariots all sorrowing round
the body, and Thetis stirred within them a still deeper yearning.
The sands of the seashore and the men's armour were wet with their
weeping, so great a minister of fear was he whom they had lost.
Chief in all their mourning was the son of Peleus: he laid his
bloodstained hand on the breast of his friend. "Fare well," he
cried, "Patroclus, even in the house of Hades. I will now do all
that I erewhile promised you; I will drag Hector hither and let dogs
devour him raw; twelve noble sons of Trojans will I also slay before
your pyre to avenge you."
As he spoke he treated the body of noble Hector with contumely,
laying it at full length in the dust beside the bier of Patroclus. The
others then put off every man his armour, took the horses from their
chariots, and seated themselves in great multitude by the ship of
the fleet descendant of Aeacus, who thereon feasted them with an
abundant funeral banquet. Many a goodly ox, with many a sheep and
bleating goat did they butcher and cut up; many a tusked boar
moreover, fat and well-fed, did they singe and set to roast in the
flames of Vulcan; and rivulets of blood flowed all round the place
where the body was lying.
Then the princes of the Achaeans took the son of Peleus to
Agamemnon, but hardly could they persuade him to come with them, so
wroth was he for the death of his comrade. As soon as they reached
Agamemnon's tent they told the serving-men to set a large tripod
over the fire in case they might persuade the son of Peleus 'to wash
the clotted gore from this body, but he denied them sternly, and swore
it with a solemn oath, saying, "Nay, by King Jove, first and mightiest
of all gods, it is not meet that water should touch my body, till I
have laid Patroclus on the flames, have built him a barrow, and shaved
my head- for so long as I live no such second sorrow shall ever draw
nigh me. Now, therefore, let us do all that this sad festival demands,
but at break of day, King Agamemnon, bid your men bring wood, and
provide all else that the dead may duly take into the realm of
darkness; the fire shall thus burn him out of our sight the sooner,
and the people shall turn again to their own labours."
Thus did he speak, and they did even as he had said. They made haste
to prepare the meal, they ate, and every man had his full share so
that all were satisfied. As soon as they had had had enough to eat and
drink, the others went to their rest each in his own tent, but the son
of Peleus lay grieving among his Myrmidons by the shore of the
sounding sea, in an open place where the waves came surging in one

[...] Read more

poem by Homer, translated by Samuel Butler
Added by Poetry Lover
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Goodbye Routemaster

The iconic (damn, I swore I’d
never use that word..)
red London bus
was designed by the lively minded
for the active lively – those who
take a few chances with life,
look for a little excitement,
test their limits, enjoy
– the French have a phrase for it –
the little happinesses, sweetnesses, or
good fortunes, it doesn’t
translate quite so well –
let’s say, exhilarating moments?

viz.:

the back platform, a step
nearer the ground, is open; rubber-floored;
a central vertical bar,
wound with a grip-fast plastic,
midway on the edge of the platform; then
on the vertical edge of the rear bus-back,
a substantial holding bar
which never lets you down;
another horizontal bar
the other side
to steady you either getting on or off

so

you’ve just missed the bus as
it begins to pull away?
Don’t worry – you’re young to middling,
the driver’s still to change from low gear as
he pulls away from the kerb and queue;
you check the platform’s clear;
a short run;
grab the upright bar with the right hand,
right foot on platform, then
left hand on vertical bar –and there -
a small but significant personal achievement,
a confirmation that life’s for the winning;
the breathing deeper, healthier;
quicker than the gym or marathon

and correspondingly,

you’re on the bus, you’d like to get off soon
but it’s quite a few yards, or chains, or furlong
to the next bus stop - but eureka! – the bus slows

[...] Read more

poem by Michael Shepherd
Added by Poetry Lover
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Another One Rides The Bus

(parody of queens another one bites the dust)
Riding in the bus down the boulevard
And the place was pretty packed (yeah!)
Couldnt find a seat so I had to stand
With the perverts in the back
It was smelling like a locker room
There was junk all over the floor
Were already packed in like sardines
But were stopping to pick up more, look out
(chorus)
Another one rides the bus
Another one rides the bus
Another comes on and another comes on
Another one rides the bus
Hey, hes gonna sit by you
Another one rides the bus
Theres a suitcase poking me in the ribs
Theres an elbow in my ear
Theres a smelly old bum standing next to me
Hasnt showered in a year
I think Im missing a contact lens
I think my wallets gone
And I think this bus is stopping again
To let a couple more freaks get on look out
(chorus)
(weird sound effects)
Another one rides the bus
Another one rides the bus
Another one rides the bus ow
Another one rides the bus hey hey
Another one rides the bus hey-ey-ey-ey
The window doesnt open and the fan is broke
And my face is turning blue (yeah)
I havent been in a crowd like this
Since I went to see the who
Well I shouldve got off a couple miles ago
But I couldnt get to the door
There isnt any room for me to breathe
And now were gonna pick up more
(chorus)

song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
Added by Lucian Velea
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