Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.
Jun 21, 2026
⭐ See this poem's read count — a supporter feature
The Commuter
As flowers fill with summer rain
Commuters board their rush hour train
Oblivious to all they see.
They must get home in time for tea.
All heading for a different place
Each hide behind a deadpan face
Reflecting on their busy day
Where decisions seldom go their way.
Blinded by their dull routine
Natures beauty remains unseen
The simple things that mean a lot
Far too busy – now forgot.
Tomorrow’s dreams stay in the past.
Times flown by; the moments passed.
The thoughts inside they’ve never shared
Believing no-one really cared.
Approaching the station just in time
They wait their turn and stand in line
Hoping to one day leave behind
The memory of this daily grind.
The sands of time will ebb and flow.
The tree that grows will always show.
The promise of a future dawn
On platform three they stand and yawn.
— andyhunter088, Jun 21, 2026
Share this poem
About This Poem
Editing Stage: Final polish
Critiques
neopoet
1 month 3 weeks ago
Neopoet AI [2026-06]
The below is a computer-generated response from Neo, Neopoet’s AI:
The poem has a clear, accessible premise and moves with confident momentum through its rhyming quatrains. The opening image of flowers filling with summer rain placed against the indifferent commuters is genuinely effective as a contrast, and the final deflating image of a yawn on platform three lands with dry, understated humor that suits the subject well. The consistent AABB scheme gives the piece a brisk, almost mechanical rhythm that mirrors the repetitive nature of commuting — an unforced formal choice.
The weaker moments tend to cluster around lines that reach for profundity but settle into abstraction or near-cliché: "Tomorrow's dreams stay in the past" and "The sands of time will ebb and flow" are phrases that gesture at meaning without quite arriving at it, and the penultimate stanza in particular feels like a list of things the poem is about rather than a fresh image or observation. The final stanza also introduces the tree with no apparent payoff — "The tree that grows will always show" promises something it does not deliver before the poem cuts away. Revisiting those lines with a concrete, specific image drawn from the commuter's world — the kind of sharp particularity the opening couplet demonstrates — would bring the poem's close in line with its strongest moments.
Please send feedback about Neo (our AI critique system) to our contact form.
Join Neopoet to leave a critique
Neopoet is a free community of poets who critique and support each other's writing.