Friday, September 19, 2008

The Bus

Okay, so on my way to the bank of america and to the post office, I was walking back towards work, knowing i was going to stop by at A BURGER PLACE to grab lunchar. yes, lunchar. So on my way, a homeless lady stopped me for a moment and was like, "will you buy some of my poetry for some spare change?" and i was like, "no, i have to go..." knowing that I COULD have easily stopped and at least said something nice to her, instead of just rushing by like she wasn't important. So i got about 2 stores down, and felt the stirring in my heart to go back. I knew that I needed to go back and apologize to her and buy some of her poetry- her art, her voice. So I did. I went back, and instead of spare change, gave her a dollar and a huge apology, letting her know that she shouldn't be ignored and that I hope that other people will notice her today. And I told her that I would love to buy her poetry and that her voice mattered. She looked at me with tears in her eyes, and just smiled so big. I walked away with tears in my eyes, impressed by what God can do when we are obedient. So, here is her poem, her voice:

THE BUS

Too many poems to write. I have an idea.
Suppose it's fun to push pen in palm
Sitting on a bus looking around.

Somebody sees someone step on.
I'm taking my time before I'm gone.
Yesterday's past has haunted me once too often
in the sea.

Don't carry me before yourself or we'll both be
caught on a shelf.
Stuck in the back like a piece of junk, waiting to
be put in what, a trunk?

Open the door and I'll walk out, say goodbye but
do not shout.
Don't worry about me. I'm not alone
I'll catch a bust to take me home.

By Diane L. Bradburn

2 comments:

Kelley R. said...

This reminds me of something that happened to me and my roomies at the bus stop the other day. Maybe I'll blog about it...

I'm glad you bought her poem by the way. And I'm glad you posted it here.

Hesperado said...

This would be a good place to post a couple of other poems by Diane L. Bradburn. I was waiting (as a pedestrian) for the light to turn, when this lady approached me with xeroxes of poems, and asked for a donation. I gave her what little I had and took them; and later, was not a little surprised by how good the poems were:

The Bug

Spray that bug but not a slug
For if you do I'll untie my shoe.
Kick it off. Sit in my chair.
I don't care if I comb my hair or not.
I put up with you.
You put up with me.
It's because we are in the same
family tree.

"Don't despair, I'm still here."
Come and see, "Hee Hee Hee."
The bug said "don't spray me."
"I'm not in your family tree."

I'm your conscience reminding you
to think
About your own family.
But there's still room for us all.
"Tee Tee Tee."

By Diane L. Bradburn

The Cat

Purr soft and sweet with low meow
Sit on a chair soft on a towel
Take a nap in sweet dreamland...
Pounce lightly to the floor, stroll
around her leg
Once more.

Purr softly so she'll pick you up
Tell you you're her buttercup.
Pet your coat softly from head to tail
And then set you down for just a spell.

You run away because you know a way to play.
She might catch up with you just then
Pick you up and hug you then.
Purr softly as she falls asleep
Together, dream of counting sheep.

By Diane L. Bradburn