The poem is a simple poem which I wrote after I made a bracelet out of… err.. paper. I got the line, “Paper chain bracelets” stuck in my head, and I just had to do something with it. The story is basically, I got stuck on the image of a bus, rattling along in the dead of night, and I needed to practise third person writing. Is a bit rubbish, but what can you do?
Paper Chain Bracelets
Paper chain bracelets,
and scribbled on hands,
Guady nail polish,
and kids in ‘cool’ bands,
Gormless eyed faces,
The teacher commands,
She can see all this,
From where she stands.
Bus (for lack of a more creative name)
The bus rattled down the quiet city lanes. Outside, it was a soft navy blue, gently lit by the orange glow of the street lamps. The bus came to a halt, splashing the
muddy puddles onto the dreary pavement, littered with gum and wrappers. A young boy got on, his hair wet and messy.
“The next stop is the last one.” The driver told him, grumpily. The young boy nodded, tiredly, and handed the driver the bus fare. The driver took it, reluctantly. He was
tired, and just wanted this shift to be over.
The young boy, scowling, walked to the back of the bus, and took a seat next to the only other occupant of the bus. A girl, her heavy coating of makeup trailing down
her face, along with the tears of a teenage heartbreak, sat slumped in the corner. She glared up at the boy, as if to make him sit elsewhere. Undeterred, the boy took a
seat next to her. Pulling out a sweet, he offered her one. The girl shook her head, and stared out the window. Some teenagers walked the pavement, idly kicking at a
crushed can. Seeing them only brought the tears faster, and the boy moved closer.
“What happened?” He asked, only for her to shake her head again. Her dark hair fell and shadowed her face, but it was clear to see she was still crying. Her shoulders
shook with emotion, and her fists clenched. He placed an arm carefully on her shoulder, and she looked up, suspicious. Seeing his calm, brown eyes, staring into hers,
she gave in.
“He’s a jerk.” She said, shrugging slightly. Her eyes betrayed her, filling with tears once again, and he rummaged in his pocket.
“I got a tissue.” He said, offering it to her. She took it, gently whiping away the stray makeup. He smiled at her, and she just stared back.
Shaking her head hurriedly, she stood up. “I should call my parents.” The boy nodded, and fell into silence as the girl dialled. Speaking softly into the phone, the girl
spoke to her mother. The boy was able to grasp that the girl had been cheated on while both of them were out at the party. He shook his head. What kind of person
breaks anything so precious as a heart? As the girl hung up, the bus drew to it’s stuttered halt. The girl walked shakily off the bus, the boy following behind. They nodded
their goodbyes, and went their seperate ways.
They met again at a party, two years later, and remembered that night. The boy learnt the full story, and most importantly; the girls name.