Trip Poems


On a bus that

smells of coconut

Coming in to Melbourne

A Jeffrey Smart


Under a Turneresque


Passengers on the bus

Twenty conversations

Interweave and blend

And did I mention

The bus smells of


A young man I don’t know

is asleep in front of me.

His mouth is slightly open.

He looks very peaceful.

A girl

who is travelling with him

is sitting beside me.

She isn’t asleep.

She looks very bored.

Little Collins, Thursday, 14.55pm

Woman in a red suit


In a cobbled lane.


Face to face

Knees touching

Feet overlapping

Always talking

Eyes touching

Voices overlapping.

Crossing (Hoddle Street)

Please Mr Fisherman

May we cross the river?

The mighty, rushing

traffic river?

Red light comes

creates a dam,

And we cross safely

on dry land.

All of these were scribbled in notebooks whilst on a train or bus, except the last one, which made it onto paper in a motel room in Abbotsford.

2 thoughts on “Trip Poems

  1. Aww, My Morgey face. She looks pleased with herself. The poem starting with Travelling expresses why I hate trains. Eyes touching? No one is allowed to touch my eyes!


    • I was writing about two people who sat opposite each other, obviously knew each other pretty well, and talked all the way from Melbourne to Ballarat. Surely if it was Matt you wouldn’t mind?!



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