Next stop I'll will be there
Sitting nervously in my chair
Bus driver says 40 more minutes
Can't keep it together falling in bits
Jumping up and down
Looking out the window
I'm going nut's
How far to go
Finally he stops in a cloud of dust
Ate most of my sandwich now the crust
I run out the door at our destination
No one there OH! the frustration
Look around were can she be
The Prison doors open she is finally set free
Mummy Mummy I'm here can't you see
Yes my son it's just you look older than me
Wow! This one makes one stop and think! An ironic twist one this one...I enjoyed it, irony makes paints an interesting picture...prison must have been an easier life than the outside world! Hmmm??
Enjoyed this,
Blessings,
Joyce Bowling
Intestesting and thought-provoking! Assuming that the prison feed the prisoners well; and then mummuy didn't have to worry about making money. The son, on the other hand had all the worries that life brings to him while being on the outside.
Hhhhhmmmmm...not really sure if it's what you were trying to imply in this poem. I could be wrong. But that's just my humble opinion.
Sandie May Angel :o)
Reviewed by Michael Mathieu (Reader)
Reviewed on February 13, 2007
A powerful write,Lotz of excitement for time has lost,
Robin Ouzman Hislop's poetry is certainly in dialogue with some of the key architects of the 'poetics of indeterminacy' – both the Modernist strands represented by the likes of Beckett and Stein, and the postmodernist strands represented, initially,
(Self-published. Please contact author directly to order.)
Enter the pages of diaspora in quiet introspection. Bathe your thoughts with subtle humor; synchronize your spirit-sense with history-in-heat; fall headlong with eyes wide open into
Dear readers, this is my third book of poems, and inside are a special collection of what have turned out to be not only MY personal favorites, but also the favorites of many of YOU. Some of these have never been available in print before...
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Enjoyed this,
Blessings,
Joyce Bowling
Hhhhhmmmmm...not really sure if it's what you were trying to imply in this poem. I could be wrong. But that's just my humble opinion.
Sandie May Angel :o)
Michael