I Pity The Poor Commuter

By forest_for_ever

Tue, 02 Jan 2018
  • 927 reads
3 comments
 

I Pity The Poor Commuters

 

Curving, twisting over the cold hearted steel

Ominous buffered endings now begin

Murmured curses silent sworn

Motionless, shadow faces disembark

Underneath their faces nothing stirs

Tired souls, purgatory to serve

Endless, nothingness labours to endure

Returning under cover of dark

Safe stored in rolling tombs of tin.

Certificate U
Poem
Poems About People
Opinion

Comments

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

You capture the look or feelings of tired withdrawal before or after day in the busyness (whether enjoyed or not) of London work, to be semi-asleep (recuperating?) and not socialise during the tedious journey. Rhiannon

 

Submitted by celticman on

yeh, we pay five times more than our contintetal neighbours for a worse service and we subsidise their railways by letting them run ours for profit. 

 

Submitted by forest_for_ever on

I cannot agree more.  I was glad to enter shift work in those days.  I felt so sorry for the souls on board. No wonder commuters are angry.  A captive audience treated like cattle.