An old-fashioned red London bus
takes me back to childhood’s
sleepy night-ride home
from my grandparents house:
sitting between Mum and Dad,
bare legs on fuzzy seats,
folding concertinas of paper tickets,
hypnotised by the perfume of exhaust,
rumble of engine, and the window’s
black and empty gaze. I believed
the stars – obscured by sulphrous
streetlights – had been caught,
strung in a sparkly dance
of headlights in the distance.
Kim M. Russell, 23rd October 2018
My response to dVerse Poets Pub Poetics: Journey, also linked to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads Tuesday Platform
Sarah is our bartender for today and she tells us that her prompt was inspired by Qbit’s prompt from a couple of weeks ago, in which he asked us to write about the individual in a crowd. Sarah says that, through three people writing about their commute to work, she got to travel to Sweden, Canada and the Philippines. It also made her think about her own commute, travelling through some beautiful scenery, but rarely paying attention to it.
For today’s prompt Sarah asks us to think about journeys we do regularly – journeys that have become so routine we can get to our destinations and think “How did I get here?” – and write poems about them. She’d like us to spend a little time thinking about the journey itself, our thoughts and feelings as we travel. What’s it like as we set off and arrive? Are there landmarks we always acknowledge? Are there features we are always surprised by?
The reflection on that travel of your youth is so sweet… a small adventure when every day… maybe that’s what you need to make it.
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Thank you, Björn. That journey can never be the same as it was back then – no more grandparents, no more parents. Only one sister who is in touch and she will be moving even farther away soon. However, the purple park and ride bus into Norwich is a wonderful ride!
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Wow, Kim, you transported me in time and space. I remember those seats, and the proper paper bus ticket. I used to roll it up, or make it into a tiny fan! So very evocative – thank you for sharing!
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Thanks for the great prompt, Sarah – it really got me going!
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Lovely write. I never traveled on buses, except occasionally around town. The memories in this are so sweet. Believing the stars had been caught is a wonderful thought in this poem. Thank you for sharing a bit of your childhood with us.
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Thank you for appreciating my words, Toni. 🙂
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You paint a lovely picture here, journeying through both space and time.
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Doctor Who of the Routemaster!
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Yes! My favotire doctor!
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Oh wow, I really felt like I was in that bus. A beautiful glimpse into your childhood, Kim. Thank you for sharing.
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Thank you for reading and commenting, Jade!
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My pleasure! ^_^
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Like Sarah, I remember those seats too, now you mention it, and there would always be someone who’d made a fan of their ticket and stuck it under the metal rim of the seatback.
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We might even have travelled on the same buses at some point! I wish I’d written messages on some of those tickets, you never know, you might have found one!
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My earliest buses were Heavy Woollen District. Not a very endearing name that some change in local government scrapped when I was little. They had the same prickly seats and shiny metal frames as the London buses though.
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We have imported a few of those double-deck red buses over here, using them for city tours. I like sitting on the top deck. Your reflections from childhood is sweet and precious. Like you, I am the elder in the family now; all that came before are gone; sigh.
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Those memories serve us well, Glenn.
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Ah, this nostalgia invoked image is so beautifully expressed. This journey speaks to me of the childhood wonder that we perhaps lose somewhere along the way. I really loved this image: “the stars – obscured by sulphrous/streetlights – had been caught,/strung in a sparkly dance/of headlights”. ❤
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I can still see those lights, Anmol! 🙂
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Such carefully-chosen images convey your scene so completely…even the suggestion of a reason for being out so late–a concert, perhaps, or movie hinted at by the concertina folded from the tickets. I love that you don’t tell all, but just hint and I identified so much with this sleepy ride home between protective parents. Wonderfully done.
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Thank you, Judy!
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the infamous double decker red bus — I like how you mention the blackness of the blank stare of the windows, and of being sleepy … and then thinking on that broad expanse of sky – …
I felt like I was a small child, tucked up safely between loved ones, and as you noted, sleepy, dozy, awake and aware, but also drifting … for want of sleep and dreams … and yet, also being in that surreal “inside a bus” lighting colouring, which, is kind of universal for it’s weird hues etc. … all in all, I felt like I stepped into your journeys and yet my own too, as if you’ve painted me a picture of a portal through which I can step, either as adult witness or child, as I wish … 🙂
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Thank you so much for such close reading and appreciation, Pat. 🙂 Although it was a long time ago, those memories are so clear to me. The older I get the clearer they become. They’re wonderful for ideas and starting points for poems.
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absolutely 🙂
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Kim that was taking me down memory lane in London again! Do you know I still fold paper receipts like a concertina 😊 A lovely poem!
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Thank you, Christine! 🙂
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I can vaguely remember that smell which you described well: “hypnotised by the perfume of exhaust”
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Thanks Frank!
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My childhood fancies often were employed to smooth less than comfortable moments. Finding the bits of magic in the mundane turns cranky, tired children into adventurers on quest.
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The magic of childhood 🙂
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How we children absorbed all we saw and felt to store in our memories which now come flooding back in later years to be used or perhaps wept over. Despite my early childhhood was in war ravaged Britain in the 1940’s I still recall it with satisfaction that there was so much to experience and learn from in those early years. What a great poem yours is.
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Thank you so much, Robin!
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Love the title, Kim, and the child’s view of the bus ride.
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The vivid description and images had me recalling winter evenings and bus rides.
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Thank you, Dorianna.
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This takes me back to student days and public buses.. wonderful times!
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Thank you, Rajani!
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Adore this “star strung” flashback…
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Thank you, Margaret.
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beautifully evocative
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Thank you so much, Maureen.
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you turned a dull bus ride into a journey through a fairy tale, i was like waiting in anticipation and loved your end, the imagined stars were so perfect
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Thank you, Gina!
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Oh this so lovely….a magical memory that I can very much relate to.
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Thank you, Cressida!
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Such wonderful nostalgia in this one, Kim 😀 Especially love; “the stars – obscured by sulfurous/streetlights – had been caught,/strung in a sparkly dance/of headlights”. ❤️
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Thank you, Sanaa 😊
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This reads like a dream.
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Thank you, Ken. It’s a distant memory that feels like a dream. 🙂
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Some things are irreplaceable – red buses and postboxes.. I’m not ready to let them go.
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The red telephone boxes are no longer in use but we still have one in the village. Some people have them in their gardens!
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This took me back Kim. Though the buses here in the states are not red, nor nearly so endearing, we would take a bus across town to visit my grandmother!
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I think the destination made it all the more exciting 🙂
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Yes! 😊
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Beautiful memories of riding the bus with your parents…I admire that necklace of lights!
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Thank you, Lynn!
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I like your piece about riding a London bus as a child. The idea of the stars turning into headlights is lovely.
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Thank you, Suzanne.
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Stars caught in the headlights. The imagination of a child! I never had one. I’m catching up now. Lovely poem.
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Thank you, Mary.
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What a great memory!
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I used to love visiting my grandma with mum and dad but the night ride home was magical!
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I love the feeling I get when looking back. The memories always feel like such treasure. You took me back to my country bus rides to spend summers in the country. Thanks😊.
Pat
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🙂
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