Ode to a Vancouver trolley bus,
With your seats so blue.
You once were so orange,
So strong, and so true.
I rode you down Oak street,
Down Cambie and Main.
I rode you up main corridors,
Finding your stops? Never a pain.
You’ve changed over the years,
But I will always love thee.
From high seats to low seats,
Your views still impress me.
My favourite bus,
Is almost long gone.
It remains on a single line
The #4, orange like dawn.
But alas, the orange trolley allowed
Little access for most.
Replaced, indeed it was.
Dual tiered the new did boast.
The next model to come,
Had blue and soft seats.
But it was the pleathery smell,
That lessened its feats.
Newer even still,
Is the plush simple design,
With lean solid frames,
A new favourite of mine.
For although people complain,
Of the fewer number of seats.
If one were to count,
You would see that these busses still meet
Almost the same amount of people,
Of course less by two,
Than the beloved old orange
With the advantage of new
Wheelchair accessible,
Even strollers too!
They bend and they bow,
And create opportunity in lieu.
But the creeping change,
Of the transit system is failing.
The construction has left me,
Questioning and bailing.
For many changed routes,
And the new “Montreal-style” busses
Are leaving me wary,
And confused through my cusses.
I no longer know the routes,
As they change so frequently.
I’d almost rather drive,
If I didn’t love public transit so vehemently.
I’ll still take the bus,
But I must also solemnly add,
I do not enjoy
My daily commute, its sad.
My ode has become bitter,
Like many residents will say,
Translink’s consultation
Needs to find a more open way.
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With your seats so blue.
You once were so orange,
So strong, and so true.
I rode you down Oak street,
Down Cambie and Main.
I rode you up main corridors,
Finding your stops? Never a pain.
You’ve changed over the years,
But I will always love thee.
From high seats to low seats,
Your views still impress me.
My favourite bus,
Is almost long gone.
It remains on a single line
The #4, orange like dawn.
But alas, the orange trolley allowed
Little access for most.
Replaced, indeed it was.
Dual tiered the new did boast.
The next model to come,
Had blue and soft seats.
But it was the pleathery smell,
That lessened its feats.
Newer even still,
Is the plush simple design,
With lean solid frames,
A new favourite of mine.
For although people complain,
Of the fewer number of seats.
If one were to count,
You would see that these busses still meet
Almost the same amount of people,
Of course less by two,
Than the beloved old orange
With the advantage of new
Wheelchair accessible,
Even strollers too!
They bend and they bow,
And create opportunity in lieu.
But the creeping change,
Of the transit system is failing.
The construction has left me,
Questioning and bailing.
For many changed routes,
And the new “Montreal-style” busses
Are leaving me wary,
And confused through my cusses.
I no longer know the routes,
As they change so frequently.
I’d almost rather drive,
If I didn’t love public transit so vehemently.
I’ll still take the bus,
But I must also solemnly add,
I do not enjoy
My daily commute, its sad.
My ode has become bitter,
Like many residents will say,
Translink’s consultation
Needs to find a more open way.








1 comment:
Move over Keats and Wordsworth...We can only hope that "Vancouver Manifesto" will continue to so eloquently combine poetry and prose to describe this city.
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