Train Poems - Poems about Train

such longing in a long sad, drawn-out train whistle do metal objects have feelings? this sound makes the idea plausible...

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train whistle, a seldom heard sound, long and low this morning I wonder if this train is transporting people or cattle or people treated like cattle or cattle dressed like people...

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The cold is leaving the air And the smell of the grass is sneaking in. The train is bringing me home, The home where I was the reckoning. My body shivers in the summer while remembering, Remembering how the other me was acting. The lowest part of my soul is gravitating In the cafés, passages, and places, Without fear, shame, nor guilt, Screaming: here...

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Flickering lights cast shadows on the crowd, Each chasing hopes that slip through their hands. Trains whistle past in endless circles, Rushing toward visions that never stay. I stand beneath a single blinking light, Waiting quietly as the crowd fades away. No need to follow fading tracks, No rush to catch a train that disappears. The platform empties, footsteps soften, Only my shadow remains,...

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I used to ride the train from school to home and back, every other weekend, in an old Pullman car built in the nineteen-thirties. It smelled like my grandma’s house— a little musty, like time had curled up and fallen asleep in the cushions. Too warm, always, but the clickety-clack over tie bars and rail frogs lulled me to sleep, rocking me gently as if the...

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Three women with umbrellas were waiting for this train. To get on or for someone to get off? I am yet to know. I lost track of them after the people disembarked. Looking for my husband, who would not have an umbrella. My umbrella was at home, I was not expecting this dreary night. My man would not be the...

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my teecher liked my pikture of a train i drawed in skool she sed she liked it lots and lots and i was very glad i showd it to my best frend who then sed it woz so cool that i got on a train one day and with my mum and dad and wen we started off...

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Nothing but roadblocks railroading my train of thought A way to move forward has to be on the precipus My vehicle halted on the road not traveled Hazard lights illuminate the darkness that surrounds my engine Unfortunate repairs as I leak black tears Busted, Mangled, & Torn Apart I sit parked in the space of my...

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A timeless infinity Stretches in all directions... Reaches high But finds a ceiling, Reaches low But finds a floor -- This timelessness is only horizontal It reaches for the goal But dissolves it in water Before it can be grounded In a surreal place Of touches and smells But no sounds, no tastes, no visions... If I am hearty, then forgive me, For I do not belong here, Far from...

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Waves in my brain to your cliche songs they entrain Background music in the store It takes me over to my core Others keep looking for merchandise Or converse with each other to break the ice But I sing along with nothing to prove Just taken over by a nonlinear groove. (chorus) Waves in my brain like a tidal refrain, When you can't think, the...

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Some with the gumption who continually jump to assumptions and with no allusions always arrive at wrong conclusions board the wrong train again and again and in total frustration never alight at the right station off-track inference prevails their train of thought is off the rails it's repetitive inanity Einstein had a word for that he called it 'Insanity' and let's not forget those excuse me for speaking while you're interrupting (he did mutter) compelled to...

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I waited for the midnight train on the platform in the rain. It was windy, it was bitter cold and i was feeling bit frail and old. Patiently i awaited the arrival of my niece who was coming home from Greece. I had time to wander down memory lane where images flashed wearily in my brain: she was days old when I held...

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A steel serpent sleek and swift and bright, slices through landscapes, day dissolves to night. No patient plod, no rhythmic rolling sway, but driven power that commands the day. A blur of motion where the fields fly past, a fleeting glimpse of moments built to last. The city's edge, a distant fading gleam, as miles are swallowed in a waking dream. A human...

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Opa John The caboose sits red—its iron spine cradles the earth like Atlas rails stretching into nowhere. The stream murmurs softly its voice threading through Ellie’s laughter like silver wire "Do you see it?" I ask her my voice a splintered cello "The train, Ellie—the one that carries us westward past the edge of the world where Cronus grinds his teeth and...

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Mark Allen was ten years old, and his favorite things were trains; Like teal moments after the storm, when colorful beauty remains. Mark had a shiny, toy train set, and he was frequently adding cars; As people often have dreams of travel, underneath jewelled stars. Mark's Papa was a train conductor. He loved to manage the train; And Mark liked...

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