Write if you find work.
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Living Poetry 
The wheels are off the bus.
The plane is overbooked.
The last option is to take my thumb
from this pot of dirt. I never could
keep anything alive anyway.
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Posted by JeanMarie | May 6, 2019, 5:34 PMExcellent! Love the thumb allusion.
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | May 6, 2019, 7:43 PMMe neither… good one!
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Posted by Lisa Tomey | May 10, 2019, 3:57 PMTaiga Bus Stop
“Trips tailor-made
to view the wilderness”
but now where is that
Priceline bed and breakfast
this is definitely the last time
I listen to William Shatner
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Posted by Steve Croft | May 8, 2019, 3:17 PMYeah, don’t listen to Shatner. Nothing good comes from that, except this poem. Nice work!
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | May 8, 2019, 5:36 PMNice one!!
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Posted by Lisa Tomey | May 10, 2019, 3:56 PMReminds me of the time
Long ago post New York
Not far from the old, old used book store
I emptied my suitcase
Filled it with books
Placed essentials on the crevices
Journeyed off via plane
Only to find
Zippers break
Books burst forth
No mind
Duck tape to the rescue
Loaded up on Amtrak
I made it home with my books
Who needs delicates, anyway
But oh was that a long walk
with a broke down suitcase
full of old books
I still love musty
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Posted by Lisa Tomey | May 10, 2019, 4:02 PMBooks are worth it!
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | May 10, 2019, 4:49 PMYes they are.
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Posted by Lisa Tomey | May 10, 2019, 8:19 PM