Bridge of Strangers

A poem inspired by a muse and a bus ride...

We are strangers

afraid to smile

or talk

as we walk the same miles

across bridges

both worn and strong.

 

Our path is long.

 

What is strange,

to this stranger,

is in my heart and mind still.

That we are living in a world,

quick & bustling,

mustering courage to feel;

to greet,

meet and shake hands,

as we seek life

tossing in the wake of man.

 

Tossing on a bus- empty

with a heart beating, simply

from the idea,

both serene and wild,

that I’ve missed you

passing by

And perchance you’ve smiled

with lips that I

-have never seen.

 

My path is a dream.

 

How is it

that these people I can see

are strangers, unknown

distant and crass

while there is a vast

distance between you and my home?

 

And yet you’re a friend

and they are not.

You have taught me,

you inspire,

more than any of the prior

people who feed off desires

and yet don’t understand

any of their own.

Is there distance between

you and me?

Is it bridged in your dreams?

And felt when you awake,

still alone?

 

My path leads to you…

                    you are my home.

Author's Note

Not sure how I feel about this one. Most of it was written on the city bus, so its just a few musings and thoughts strung together.

Reviews

[Southern Cross]

"Tossing on a bus- empty
with a heart beating, simply
from the idea,
both serene and wild,
that I’ve missed you
passing by
And perchance you’ve smiled
with lips that I
-have never seen." If these are simply thoughts strung together, then can I borrow your thread?
"My path leads to you…
you are my home. *sigh* so beautiful and tender...This is probably my favorite of all you have posted. It is a glimpse into our lives as strangers and lovers.

[MachinaWriter]

An odd pairing of things. Strangers and lovers. But there are bridges, where strangers meet, and greet each other as old friends, talking of past jokes and past sins, as if they've known each other from the beginning and will to the end. The blindfolded cross this bridge, with eyes shut tight and hearts wide open, despite the treacherous fall on either side. Denying the frightful feelings that could tear them apart, for the hope of what they find, not at the end, but in the middle. Meeting halfway. We are strangers. We are lovers. We are new acquaintances and also old friends who have yet to meet. I'm glad you enjoyed the poem, I was hoping you would ^^

[Transience]

it feels so commonplace and ethereal at the same time.no wait,it travels from something ordinary to a much greater meaning.you do have a knack of finding beauty in the simplest of things.the title is lovely.just one thing i feel after reading your pieces,keeping them a tad bit shorter might be better since the intensity you build up sometimes wavers in between.sincerely hope this wont offend you.

[MachinaWriter]

Yeah, length is something I find myself struggling with quite often in my poems. They tend to be a combination of many thoughts, though, none of which I feel like leaving out lol I have a hard time with that haha Thanks for your honest review, it means a lot ^^

[CoveredInLies]

You really capture the longing for the other in this. I remember feeling this when I had a long distance relationship. You feel empty without them there.
I love it.

[MachinaWriter]

Thank you, I'm glad you liked it ^^

[Damien Davison]

It seems anything you put together has quality to it, though it wasn't your best of course, it still got me thinking and took me right in. Good job man.

[MachinaWriter]

Yeah, it was a random stringing of ideas and thoughts, but I posted it anyways lol Thanks for reading it, man ^^

[Kelsey]

"How is it
that these people I can see
are strangers, unknown
distant and crass
while there is a vast
distance between you and my home?"

This stanza flowed so beautifully, I couldn't resist pointing it out. I must admit, when I started the poem, I wasn't sure I'd enjoy it, simply because I was unsure of where you were going with it. The further I got into it, the more I grew to like it. It just goes to show that you can't judge a book by its cover, or a poem by its first few lines. This is one of those pieces that really makes you think - you tend to write many pieces that do that to me. As always, lovely job. x

[MachinaWriter]

I don't think I knew where I was going with it lol Like I said, thoughts strung together, musings and writings, put together later on with a semblance of unity, to bind my thoughts together. That's the way my mind works. Its so all over the place xD

[*~*Butterfly Kisses*~*]

Inspiring thoughts, and lovely write. Nicely done.

[MachinaWriter]

Thank you, as always. I'm happy to have had you read this little part of my mind ^^