Orange Bags. FVT


Sitting on a bus, peering out at the passing city,
Empty, bleak, nothing happening,
Mind following, drab and blank.

Two men passing each other on the street,
one on foot, one on bicycle.
Dreadlocks, baggy jeans, fluff-beard, over-small bike.
Short back and sides, orange supermarket bags
suspended, one from each hand.

Friction of bags and bicycle as they pass.
Friction of tempers.
Glares exchanged. Words yelled.
Spittle at the lips, brows furrowed.

Suddenly the bicycle is turned round,
speeding towards the orange bags.
Suddenly feet running, bags swinging wildly,
Panic carrying feet forward despite the load.

Hearts pumping, breathing rasping,
anger and fear bringing together,
forcing apart.

Panic, anger, laughter.

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3 thoughts on “Orange Bags. FVT

  1. Playful variation of your poem Fvt. Put the orange on the foreground and messed up the rhythm.. Here is the result:

    Two men going
    past each other
    on the street,

    one on foot,
    one on small bike.

    Dreadlocks
    & baggy jeans,
    dustball-beard,

    Short back & sides,
    orange bags
    in suspension,
    one from each hand.

    Friction of bags
    friction of tempers
    glares reciprocated
    words yelped
    Spite at the lips
    corrugated brows.

    Suddenly the bicycle
    is turned round,
    speeding towards the
    orange bags.
    Suddenly feet running,
    bags swinging wildly,
    Panic carrying feet
    forward despite the load.

    Hearts pumping,
    breathing rasping,
    anger& fear bringing together,
    forcing apart.

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