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She painted with artistic flair,
He sculpted nudes from moist, soft clay.
And neither could imagine there
could be a place for each to share,
beyond this all-consuming day.

He rode the bus, she took the train,
the daily jaunt through London town.
The muggy heat might spell more rain.
Each morning bird sang its refrain.
This day much like the last each found.

But with no warning came the shock,
the sudden blast in waves of flame.
The deaf'ning roar, the pitch and rock,
as terror gripped each beating clock
now all-a-board in Allah's name.

She wore a yellow dress to work.
The bloodstains soaked the cotton print.
He wore a cap like every clerk.
In flames it flew off, with a jerk
through scorched remains of dust and lint.

Four wicked fools set off one plan
in hopes Mohammed would be proud.
Misguided tools from Pakistan,
torpedoes aimed at Western man,
destroyed the ships, which held each crowd.

He never thought of church one bit.
She hated all that preachy stuff.
Thus, in their lives no god could fit.
How would He? come to think of it.
"Imagine," sang it well enough.

But who could know on this July,
the motives in Death's consequence?
Eternity just blinked an eye
as casualties of Satan's lie
all face the truth at great expense.

The Gadfly

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The following comments are for "He Rode The Bus"
by TheGadfly

He Rode The Bus


This was very well done. The pacing and rhythm were perfect. The structure was perfect. I really think you did a wonderful job on this piece. It's stellar.


( Posted by: GibsonGirl [Member] On: July 18, 2005 )

The Blitz
Wow how did you know these people so well. I listened to the news and never gleaned so much information.

Then I suppose being a peace officer you have links with our British Bobbies.

On a more serious note, with poetic flair you manage to incite hatred for the Devil. I loved the simple rhyme. It gave me incentive to look at your other work too...


( Posted by: ELD [Member] On: July 18, 2005 )

Thank you
Thank you Lans and Eric for your thoughtful and playful [Eric] comments on the poem. The media is so focused on the suspects we hardly know a thing about the victims other than the fact they are dead.

( Posted by: TheGadfly [Member] On: July 19, 2005 )

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