Departures

[tomoffing]

Opinions on the colloquialisms in particular would be appreciated. This was written with a very specific audience in mind but I'm hoping it has some wider resonance.

The bus lolls and rolls
through the bypass roundabout.
The flat glare of a fine new year day
tints the cabin with monochromatic tones
of by gone times, acutely framing time gone by,
highlighting broad bay windows
of vacant retail units drifting past.
Shells, fossils from a more prosperous era
when worries were few.
It was for different reasons then that people flew.

Lough Ramor flows from my west to my north
and the sight of the southernmost drumlin near Carnaross
raises a lump in my throat.
"They have them in the States" I'm told,
but I'm certain they're not the same.
Fields awash with melted snow
and remnants of recent hail
blur beside me,
a scene bluer than green today.

Sweeping onto the N3 upgrade,
the "new road" as it's known,
a previously arduous trip
will disappear in a clip.
As homesteads turn to homes,
to semi-detacheds, to apartment complexes,
we arc across an overpass
onto the M50 Dublin City ring road,
now a pain free traffic management node.
Perhaps we have made progrss after all.

Terminal 1 soon looms on our left
and a strange melancholic echo
resounds in the glum cabin air
when the driver needlessly advises
"We've arrived at Dublin airport".
Luggage doors operate
and slumped shoulders struggle with bags
heavier now, despite the absence of duty free.

Passengers lug and plod,
wheeling past the odd solitary explorer
sucking a last cigarette,
surrounded by lover's kisses
young sibling's carefree shrugs
vicelike motherly hugs
stiff pats delivered to backs
and firm, lingering handshakes.
Restrained tender respect.
Typically Hibernian.
All unwatched by a laddered man
slowly unhooking the last of the season's twinkle.
No one here is away for a break.

The departing have it easier.
Afforded the sterile anaesthesia
of bag drops and security checks
(always unsure of your legality)
boarding calls, safety demonstrations,
baggage carousels and a destination,
transported from nostalgia's source.

Unlike the fur lined wax coated loved ones
trudging back to grim stacked shelves of cars,
still to retrace a familiar route.
This time in darkness.
Hands fiercely clasp upon a gear stick.
The anchor of grounded emotion now airborne
soft sobs reverberate amidst the white noise
slow motion strobe of the motorway.
An emptier car streaming
towards an emptier house.

But later, once expensive phone calls
have confirmed safe arrivals
orthodromic distances
evaporate at the click of two kettles.
Freshly smuggled batches of Lyons,
or Barry's, brew in scalded pots
and two cups of sweet tea
soothe the last of the day's dejection.
A warm reminder, redolent of home,
that place is no measure
of whether we're alone.

[justcloudy]

Wow this is lovely. It's long, and not being Irish there were some terms I wasn't familiar with, but nonetheless it was very readable. I absolutely love the little rhymes sprinkled throughout, they do a lot to lift it up, but there aren't so many that we're left wondering why it doesn't all rhyme.

I made lots of notes but don't be overwhelmed, I'm not ripping it apart. ;p

Opinions on the colloquialisms in particular would be appreciated. This was written with a very specific audience in mind but I'm hoping it has some wider resonance.

The bus lolls and rolls
through the bypass roundabout.
The flat glare of a fine new year day Maybe "New Year's Day"?
tints the cabin with monochromatic tones
of by gone times, acutely framing time gone by,
highlighting broad bay windows
of vacant retail units drifting past.
Shells, fossils from a more prosperous era
when worries were few.
It was for different reasons then that people flew. Good set-up of tone here, though we're left slightly confused by the last line the title gives us enough of a hint to expect what's coming after. Being American I assumed it was in the US, and here there's nothing to dispel that assumption.

Lough Ramor flows from my west to my north
and the sight of the southernmost drumlin near Carnaross I have no idea what these two lines mean, but they hint at Ireland/Wales/Scotland to those unfamiliar with such places, so that's a good beginning.
raises a lump in my throat.
"They have them in the States" I'm told, Because I didn't understand the lines above I dunno what they have in the States. But now I'm sure it's not there. On the second read this makes it clear the speaker is going to the States, which is a nice touch.
but I'm certain they're not the same. Good bit of delicate melancholy.
Fields awash with melted snow
and remnants of recent hail
blur beside me,
a scene bluer than green today. Maybe "more blue than green" because as it stands it's a bit odd.

Sweeping onto the N3 upgrade,
the "new road" as it's known, Nice details of place.
a previously arduous trip
will disappear in a clip. In a clip? Irish expression? I get the idea though, doesn't really bother me.
As homesteads turn to homes,
to semi-detacheds, to apartment complexes,
we arc across an overpass
onto the M50 Dublin City ring road, Ah, finally, the setting becomes clear. But the wait wasn't frustrating, it was an enjoyable wait.
now a pain free traffic management node.
Perhaps we have made progrss after all. Typo-- progress

Terminal 1 soon looms on our left I like this intro of the airport, very realistic in it's gradualness.
and a strange melancholic echo
resounds in the glum cabin air Do you really say cabin for the inside of a bus?
when the driver needlessly advises
"We've arrived at Dublin airport". I like that. Shows us the speaker's mood.
Luggage doors operate
and slumped shoulders struggle with bags
heavier now, despite the absence of duty free. I'm not sure absence is the right word. Do you mean they haven't yet gone through duty-free since they haven't even left yet? It's just not as clear as it could be.

Passengers lug and plod,
wheeling past the odd solitary explorer
sucking a last cigarette,
surrounded by lover's kisses
young sibling's carefree shrugs
vicelike motherly hugs But if he's solitary why is he surrounded by so many people?
stiff pats delivered to backs
and firm, lingering handshakes.
Restrained tender respect.
Typically Hibernian. Another Irish word?
All unwatched by a laddered man "Laddered man" took me a while to understand. It's simple in the end but the phrasing threw me.
slowly unhooking the last of the season's twinkle.
No one here is away for a break. But the explorer is, right?

The departing have it easier.
Afforded the sterile anaesthesia
of bag drops and security checks
(always unsure of your legality) "Your" comes out of nowhere here. I'd suggest "their".
boarding calls, safety demonstrations,
baggage carousels and a destination,
transported from nostalgia's source. Lovely description of something I've experienced far too many times.

Unlike the fur lined wax coated loved ones Really failing to understand this line.
trudging back to grim stacked shelves of cars, Nice.
still to retrace a familiar route.
This time in darkness.
Hands fiercely clasp upon a gear stick.
The anchor of grounded emotion now airborne
soft sobs reverberate amidst the white noise
slow motion strobe of the motorway. "white noise slow motion strobe" feels like it's missing either punctuation or a word or two.
An emptier car streaming
towards an emptier house. Again, beautiful description.

But later, once expensive phone calls
have confirmed safe arrivals
orthodromic distances
evaporate at the click of two kettles. Why two?
Freshly smuggled batches of Lyons,
or Barry's, brew in scalded pots
and two cups of sweet tea
soothe the last of the day's dejection.
A warm reminder, redolent of home,
that place is no measure
of whether we're alone. Fantastic ending.

Really, really enjoyed this one. I think with a bit more clarity it can be a first-class poem. Leave in the colloquialisms if you want, but as noted above there are some other bits that could use revising.

Thanks for sharing.

-justcloudy

[tomoffing]

Thanks a lot Cloudy, I've made some edits based on your feedback.

I'm trying to present the journey from my perspective initially shifting to the collective voice of those departing in stanza 5.
Let me know if that's still not working, otherwise I'll revamp completely.

Edit 2

Departures

The bus lolls and rolls
through Pullamore roundabout.
A flat glaring new year day
tints the cabin with monochromatic tones
of by gone times, acutely framing time gone by,
highlighting broad bay windows
of vacant retail units drifting past.
Shells, fossils from a more prosperous era
when worries were few.
It was for different reasons then
that people flew.

Lough Ramor flows north from my west
and the sight of the southernmost drumlin near Carnaross
raises a lump in my throat.
"They have them in the States" I'm told,
but I'm certain they're not the same.
Fields awash with snow-melt
and recent hail blur beside me;
a scene more blue than green today.

Sweeping onto the N3 upgrade,
the "new road" as it's known,
a previously arduous trip
disappears in a single shift.
Homesteads turn to homes,
to semi-detacheds, to apartment complexes
and arcing swiftly onto the Dublin City ring road
I note a now pain free traffic management node.
Perhaps progress has been made after all.

Terminal 1 soon looms on our left
and a melancholic echo
thickly resounds in glum air
when the driver needlessly announces
"We've arrived at Dublin airport".
Luggage doors operate
and hunched shoulders struggle with bags
heavier now, despite gifts having been given.

Plodding, wheeling,
we pass lover's kisses
young sibling's carefree shrugs
and vice-like motherly hugs
as the odd solitary explorer
sucks a last cigarette.
Stiff pats are delivered to backs
and firm handshakes linger.
Restrained tender respect.
Typically Hibernian.
No one here is away for a break.

It's easier departing.
Afforded the sterile anaesthesia
of bag drops and security checks
(always uncertain of legality)
boarding calls, safety demonstrations,
baggage carousels and a destination
transported from nostalgia's source.

Unlike loved ones
trudging back
to grim stacked shelves of cars
still to retrace a familiar route.
This time in darkness.
Hands fiercely clasp upon a gear stick.
The anchor of grounded emotion now airborne
soft sobs reverberate amidst the white noise
slow motion motorway strobe.
An emptier car streaming
towards an emptier house.

But later, once expensive phone calls
have confirmed safe arrivals
orthodromic distances
evaporate with a kettle's click.
Freshly smuggled batches of Lyons,
or Barry's, brew in scalded pots
and cups of sweet tea
soothe the last of the day's dejection.
A warm reminder, redolent of home,
that place is no measure
of whether we're alone.

[RSaba]

Opinions on the colloquialisms in particular would be appreciated. This was written with a very specific audience in mind but I'm hoping it has some wider resonance.

The bus lolls and rolls
through the bypass roundabout.
The flat glare of a fine new year day
tints the cabin with monochromatic tones
of by gone times, acutely framing time gone by, "bygone" is one word
highlighting broad bay windows
of vacant retail units drifting past.
Shells, fossils from a more prosperous era maybe "shells and fossils" ?
when worries were few.
It was for different reasons then that people flew. That's a great line and a fabulously casual rhyme. Nice one.

Lough Ramor flows from my west to my north I like how you said "my west" and "my north". Completely changes it.
and the sight of the southernmost drumlin near Carnaross
raises a lump in my throat.
"They have them in the States" I'm told, comma after "States" but before quotation marks
but I'm certain they're not the same.
Fields awash with melted snow
and remnants of recent hail
blur beside me,
a scene bluer than green today. You're really great at writing last lines for each stanza that just tie the whole thing together and make the reader pause to think about it before moving onto the next one. This is a long piece, but that makes the read easier and more enjoyable, and the length becomes irrelevant to the experience.

Sweeping onto the N3 upgrade,
the "new road" as it's known,
a previously arduous trip
will disappear in a clip.
As homesteads turn to homes,
to semi-detacheds, to apartment complexes,
we arc across an overpass
onto the M50 Dublin City ring road,
now a pain free traffic management node. "pain-free"
Perhaps we have made progrss after all. "progress"

Terminal 1 soon looms on our left
and a strange melancholic echo
resounds in the glum cabin air
when the driver needlessly advises comma
"We've arrived at Dublin airport".
Luggage doors operate
and slumped shoulders struggle with bags
heavier now, despite the absence of duty free.

Passengers lug and plod,
wheeling past the odd solitary explorer
sucking a last cigarette,
surrounded by lover's kisses comma
young sibling's carefree shrugs comma
vicelike motherly hugs [
and firm, lingering handshakes.
Restrained tender respect. maybe a comma here, make the next line part of the sentence, as well as the line after it? You've been writing in complete sentences so far so the sudden break from that is a bit strange.
Typically Hibernian.
All unwatched by a laddered man
slowly unhooking the last of the season's twinkle.
No one here is away for a break.

The departing have it easier. Maybe attach this to the next line, once again, not a full sentence. Don't listen to me on the whole proper sentence thing though if you don't want to, it's your call.
Afforded the sterile anaesthesia
of bag drops and security checks
(always unsure of your legality) comma
boarding calls, safety demonstrations,
baggage carousels and a destination,
transported from nostalgia's source.

Unlike the fur lined wax coated loved ones "fur-lined, wax-coated"
trudging back to grim stacked shelves of cars,
still to retrace a familiar route. Not a proper sentence, but a long one. Any way you could change that?
This time in darkness.
Hands fiercely clasp upon a gear stick.
The anchor of grounded emotion now airborne I'm thinking either a semi-colon or a dash here
soft sobs reverberate amidst the white noise
slow motion strobe of the motorway.
An emptier car streaming
towards an emptier house.

But later, once expensive phone calls
have confirmed safe arrivals comma
orthodromic distances
evaporate at the click of two kettles.
Freshly smuggled batches of Lyons,
or Barry's, brew in scalded pots
and two cups of sweet tea
soothe the last of the day's dejection.
A warm reminder, redolent of home,
that place is no measure
of whether we're alone.Fabulous last three lines! Once again, you're great at bringing all these mixed feelings together.

Great writing! You're definitely a storyteller. You tell this in complete sentences, which is why a lot of my comments are grammatical, and there are a few places where you didn't use complete sentences, which didn't fit in with the rest of your writing. Short, choppy phrases definitely work in this style of writing, but they should match the rest of the piece.

Once again, great story-telling. There are some haunting feelings here and some fabulous imagery. Good write!