Poetry in motion ... on buses

For the past 15 years, poems have graced Metro Transit buses, giving commuters something to take their minds off the ride.

In 1992, the King County arts commission, now called 4Culture, launched a poetry contest with the intent (stated in less-than-poetic terms) to "integrate public creativity into Metro's public infrastructure."

This year the Poetry on Buses assignment was to write about dreams in 50 words or less. In the past, topics included self-portrait, lost & found and facts & fictions.

Fifty-five winning poets were chosen from 3,000 entries. They include Seattle's current poet populist, Cody Walker; Metro operator Linda Anderson; local writer Sierra Nelson; and three students: Franklin High's Taylor Tibbs, and Gatewood Elementary's Giovanni Paredes and Sharon Zumwalt.

Marian Liu: 206-464-3825 or mliu@seattletimes.com

Roman Postscript

by Cody Walker

I've little to offer up:

contrast, shadow ...

but no dream-ballast, no

sleep-stirrup,

no starry adagio

of REM.

My love, I'm sorry. M.

Caravaggio.

Mercurial Moon

by Linda Anderson

Pink streetlight through my curtain,

Be a mercurial moon.

And melt the grey concrete

To a soft green-schist stream

That will stretch curl, twist jump,

Deepen in shadow pools,

Spread rapids down the block.

Blackberries encroaching our sidewalk,

Go! Cover those riverbanks!

untitled

by Giovanni Paredes, age 6

I dreamt that a zebra was talking to me

I gave him some food

And walked away

The zebra followed me

I yelled, "GO BACK!"

He didn't want to go back

But he went back

Ate some grass

And then drove off

In a red monster truck

Trees

by Sharon Zumwalt, age 6

I dream about trees

Some are little

Some are big

Some are medium

They pull out their roots and walk to my house

Then knock it down

Eat my entire town

And all because

Everything there

Is made of trees

Your Eyes Are Closed But You Aren't Dreaming

by Sierra Nelson

You are traveling slowly,

Like a great shipwreck still sailing.

Almost tenderly, the sun puts a hand to your forehead.

Yes, you think, I've been unwell. You sink into the feeling.

But the sun is blind and must touch everything:

Always feeling its gold way forward towards the dark.

A Beautiful Dream, Of Gumbo & Greens

by Taylor Tibbs, age 16

Gumbo, with a side of

Greens ...

On a hot link, spicy day

Drizzled with Sea salts

Red chili pepper

Shrimp who leap with golden smiles

O, Come along and share a bowl

White rice in a china cup

The day was so beautiful

Mmmm ... what a lovely dream

Of Gumbo, with a side of

Greens