Read THIS First ..

Read THIS First..
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Friday, April 22, 2016

#13: The Unseated

So thoroughly is the idea of competition,
Ingrained in our minds, 
That being one of the few unseated,
In a train, is a loss of a kind.

Like you haven't been quick enough,
Or clever enough, or lucky enough to sit,
In an emptying coach when others get seated, 
You're left wondering if you haven't done your bit.

For you feel uneasy, and your breaths come sharp,
Because you're the standing spectacle, 
To be glanced, or stared at, 
As if you're a curious creature bearing tentacles.

You try to soothe your mind, 
You take deep breaths,
You fish out a book or your phone,
To type in a poem of such breadth.

For whenever a seat was emptied,
An instinctive gesture you displayed,
Of making a move towards it, before it was
Taken by a quicker, cleverer, luckier person instead.

Standing in the metro


Read my earlier NaPoWriMo poems.

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