Lurking on the Back Row of Life


back-seat-of-the-bus

At school I always sat in the back row,
Ground down by their pointless rules.
Egged on by friend’s laughter
I easily learned to play the fool.

When forced on Sundays to attend church
At the back I’d yawn the service away.
Lounging in a pew, uncaring
My atheism defiantly on display.

On a bus I’d favour the back seat,
Stuffed full of chips and beer.
I’d lustily sing or craftily smoke
And at disapprovers sneer.

Now I lurk at the back out of habit
Full of gripes and moans.
Unable to move to the front at all
Hiding there my natural home.

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Bus vs. Poem


Good ideas are like buses,
They have their own timetable.
Which doesn’t conform to reason
So don’t wait for them to turn up.

If someone tells you one is due,
Don’t get your pen and paper out.
Instead light up a cigarette,
And be prepared for a long wait.

Once one finally does arrive,
Make sure that you are ready.
Catch it no matter what it takes.
As who knows when the next one’s due.

Caught in the Act.


 

Someone famous must be on my bus,
People look around and fuss.
I wonder who this celeb could be,
And are they sitting near to me ?
Then I notice the CCTV,
Broadcasting for all to see.
My stubbled chin and thinning hair,
On the security screen up there.
I don’t mind that people stare,
As I slump in my chair.
With my face tired and drawn,
Barely concealing a yawn.
But what I really do regret,
Is that I’m not captured at my best.
I wished I looked more composed,
And wasn’t on CCTV picking my nose.