They say the train appears
only when the night is deciding
whether to keep its secrets.
It rises through the clouds,
steam curling like old prophecies
that forgot their endings.
The moon watches closely,
amber and patient,
as if it has seen this journey
a thousand times
and still refuses to explain it.
No passengers ride inside.
Only choices~
the ones people almost made,
the ones they feared,
the ones they lost in the noise
of daylight.
The conductor is a quiet figure,
hooded, ageless,
guiding the engine along a track
stitched from cloud-light.
He never speaks,
but every so often
he leans out the window
and drops a single spark
toward the sleeping world below.
If it lands near you,
you wake with a thought
you didn’t have yesterday~
a direction you hadn’t considered,
a door you didn’t know
you were allowed to open.
By dawn, the train dissolves
into the pale sky,
its myth intact,
its work unfinished.
And somewhere,
someone rises from bed
with a new certainty
they swear arrived
from nowhere.
train headlight
making golden beams —
autumn fog
30 August 2026
The train pulling into the dance floor
Upbeat galore
Love, Peace, Music and Soul
R&B Hip Hop energized high
Music that doesn’t Stop
Dance Line Feel
Maneuvering associate
Rhythm smooth
Soul Train Rule
Portal Soul Train
Schedule of Dance moves
Flexibility center
Songs to dance along
Peace in spirit
Soul in heart
Music in amp
Love Embrace
Soul Train encounter
Soul Train Dance Front and center
Soul Train Minute.
The Depot
The morning sun begins to peek,
my shaking knees are feeling weak.
With heavy baggage in my hand,
it takes my strength to simply stand.
I am so numb the silence roars,
I have survived my endless wars.
Gazing at the train platform
remnants of the passing storm.
The grass glistens in the breaking sun
oblivious to the battle won.
Crowds disperse, the platform clears,
the whistle echoes in my ears.
To be alone at last, I breathe,
I'm taking in the autumn breeze.
My first steps forward, timid ones,
the light of day finally comes.
For I'm unsure what lies ahead,
will they love me now, wish me dead.
It matters none from here on in,
I fought the war, I fought the sin.
My body's weak but I am home,
my weary soul will cease to roam.
Debra
The Tracks of Forlorn
The gravel is new, freshly laid,
The boundaries bordered by fences we've made,
Walking along in my tarseled feet,
In the dark of the night and midsummer's heat,
I look at the tracks and feel the horn,
The world at my back and all of their scorn.
The train passes by on ridges of steel,
Shaking the ground and all I feel.
It rolls along as the ground surely shakes,
The peace is shattered as my mind itself quakes.
Stress of the mind feels like torrents of sin,
As the wind rushes by pushed from the lead engine.
Memories flash by as trains eat up steel,
Running through mind like an old movie reel.
I've lived and I've loved, but memories are torn,
Like the train of my mind on tracks of forlorn.
I've stood and I've felt,
Pondering now the cards I'd been dealt,
In the dead of the night and train's aftermath,
The silence is deaf'ning on the cold gravel path.
-Debra
i wander back home
a ruby scarf on the hook
the mirror holds light
winter waiting at the door
i stand before going in
Hear that whistle scream
On down the wrong track,
A full head of steam
And too late to go back
Know now which way was best
Could have gone south or north,
Could have been east or west
Too late to go back and forth
Not a penny to my name
Not a dime in my purse,
A light at the end never came
And the tunnel made it worse
Time... it never stumbles
And the rail never ends,
Aboard a car that rumbles
Steady around the bends
Get them wheels a' turnin'
Another shovel full of coal,
To get them embers burnin'
And just let that train a' roll.
rust climbs silent spine of forgotten rails
the yard waits for a whistle
that will never be heard.
How long should I train?
I will continue to fight.
Africa is home
The noisy train runs down
the track.
It carries boxes on its back.
It blows out smoke both grey
and black.
Ask me something easier
Mama used to say
When I wanted reasoning
Why it goes the way
No one says good word about
Yet they do agree
With those they can live without
Pretty easily
If the fools are able
To control the wise
What’s the wisdom’s fable?
How it satisfies
Is it dialectic
Or a consolation
That comes off too hectic
Closer to frustration?
Why the chosen rulers
Aspire to be great?
Why the fools can fool us
Are we that afraid?
Why do they contest?
Can’t they live a little?
Why there is no rest
For the wicked people?
Why the time can’t stop?
What’s the point in queues
If they can bring up
Anything we choose?
Why the sun and moon
Shine too bright this summer?
Why you’ve gone too soon
Poor little Mama?
Clouds fill the sky
Does it smell like rain?
I’m not sure, it’s dry
I can hear the train
Come over the bridge
To the other bank
But I have no speech
All my questions sank.
She does not know how to sneer or chagrin
many say she kind of needs an evil twin
she is a recluse; so will she let me in?
let’s allow our vampire training session to begin
On the train, there’s room to spare
And lovely air-conditioned air.
I have 2 seats – no need to share;
It’s pleasant, no disputing.
The windows give a city view
Of buildings on Park Avenue
And sometimes a construction crew,
Their hoes and diggers rooting.
At every station, people board,
Their day beginning, heading toward
A job or visit, their reward
For miles of such commuting.
For me, this type of travel’s rare,
A different way of getting there.
No traffic causing me despair,
Anxiety diluting.
The novelty’s what makes it cool
But daily train rides, as a rule,
Would not be fun, as any fool
Would never be refuting.
The Train of Darkness
The train of darkness barrels down, I hear the railroad clack.
Shakes the baghouse now, standing next to the tracks.
The ground beneath my feet comes alive, with a pulsing, steady vibe.
My first intuition is to hide.
I see the train coming in, a monstrous, breathing beast.
Eating up the track, invited to a feast.
Out of the darkness he rolls, alone,
A king of iron, on a bed of stone.
Rattling in the night, pulsing through my fear,
He rumbles into view, then boldly disappears.
The ground beneath my work boots quakes, as a pulsing rhythm makes,
Leaving behind a cloud of dust, that the iron monster wakes.
Dragging the crew, to the emptiness of hell,
A story they have told before, a story they know well.
I wave goodbye, a wish for luck, aboard that tyrant, roaring fear.
Into the dark it drags its prey, upon the turning gear.
The rest of us
could never compete
Roosters strut
sadly behind
with unnoticed
orange hackles
Pheasants scratch
at the dirt
He ruins rainbows
with feathered ego
and metallic iridescence
We all guffaw
because we don’t know
what to do
Turquoise plumage
always wins
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