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THE PASSING TRAIN

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Below is the poem entitled THE PASSING TRAIN which was written by poet Watisungla Ao. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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THE PASSING TRAIN

THE PASSING TRAIN

Iam inside the fastest train,
This is not my very first time
Nor there is changes to define,
Same destination on my brain.

Once a green field now harvesting,
But I don't know the reapers song
Because Iam moving along,
The harvesters are jollying.

Staring at the passing houses,
Whether the same people staying
Those cows the same ones seen 
grazing,
My memory minimises.

At one place a dirty black pond,
An oasis for cows and birds
The long legged white birds play 
sports,
With the cows to show sign of bonds.

Cauliflowers forms a jungle,
Mango trees looks like broccolli
Dry terraced fields a moor broadly,
Corn hairs like king's mane in 
shambles.

The round sun began to set in,
Slowly like a blazing fire
The western sky dance with desire,
I saw it from the moving train.

Watisungla Ao
27/03/2013

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