Best Boxcar Poems
No, we weren't a couple one expected.
"What could she be thinking", one reflected.
Yet we held an undefined attraction;
Some subconscious neuron interaction.
After weeks we gathered our composure
Time to face my parents' first exposure.
True, your looks were just a bit off kelter(sic).
Poets often live at homeless shelters.
Mother stiffened, held her throat, and gasped.
Father never moved, in shock perhaps.
Then we vowed to do what we must do.
Freight trains leave at seven, ten and two.
Gene Bourne
03-19-14
.
Sleeping in the corner of a boxcar bound for Boulder
Got a life I like to leave behind a love I'd like to keep.
With the River passing slowly through the desert night below me
The thunder rips across the sky and wakes me from my sleep.
Now I spent the later sixties in the Colorado Rockies,
But California called when I was running out of bread .
As Caroline tried not to cry, we slowly kissed our love goodbye
And 10 years came between us is our separate lives we led.
Now a man in search of girls and dreams can bend his mind and make it seem
Like all good things are waiting in the next town round the bend.
But all I got from the traveling life was a beat-up Ford and a nagging wife,
And nothing in my future here but things that might have been.
Another pour of Cutty Sark at a Chinese bar in Buena Park ,
I thought back on my life ‘till there was nothing more to say.
So I didn’t find it too hard to walk out to that train yard
And in the dusk I jumped aboard an eastbound Santa Fe.
Now staring blankly at the wall a life of hatred I recall
Our quiet nights were seldom as are fighting words increased.
But I've left it all eight hours ago to start life I used to know,
With the night chill on my blanket, ‘cross the River headed East.
Pardon me but I've made one mistake.
Can't you see I'm doing all I can.
Let me be and I’ll find love a gain
Because I'm going to see my Mountain Girl again.
Author's note: Intended as a song, the last four lines are meant to be a chorus interspersed after every other stanza. Dedicated to Ian Tyson.
Your life when but a youngster
A hard and rocky road
At times a covered wagon
Was the place that you called home
But in years as you grew older
You met the man you loved
You married, bore his children
Together served the Lord
Together with your husband
You shared the Gospel truth
In a little town called Belton
The little church rang tried and true
Outside of church your family
Held dearest to your heart
Welcomed any visit
From your kids, their kids, and all
Though sick at times no mention
Because your family you adored
That was indeed the blessing
God had for you in store
You left us mid October
A beautiful day in fall
Your death though we expected
Was unprepared by all
Lived a life of service
To God and family
Now your work was finally done
It was time to see your King
As a child you had nickname
Which bothered you back then
The kids would call you Boxcar
But only to torment
But I would call you Mammaw
That’s who were to me
In loving memory of Carie
Still missed each passing day
*In loving memory of my great-grandmother Carie Leona Duncan Miller (1917-
1988)
Boxcar graffiti travels from town to town
It's the eye candy of someone handy, sown
In the sunshine or the rain
It travels on on the train
To all passersby it is known
Nothing short of a museum display
Nothing short of a Fairey
The colors dance
The colors romance
For all who have come out today
We've see your art in different ways
I heeded the message that it portrays
Not to be out done
It's etched for everyone
I've got my lawn chair out to save my place
When I hear that whistle blow
I look outside my window
There for me to see
The glamorous artistry
It's time to start the show
So when it comes into view
It is time to imbue
Winter, Spring, Summer or Fall
Palate, paint pen or aerosol
A boxcar reserved for me and you
Then the eerie sound sight
Of a train whistle at night
Gets my mind rolling
Memories start patrolling
I'll live forever in my minds flight
NOT MANY KNOW OF BOXCAR JACK
WHO LIVES ON A TRAIN GOING WAY BACK
HEARING THE SOUND OF THE CLITITY CLACK
THAT COMES FROM BEAT OF A NORTHBOUND TRACK
WELL BOXCAR WAS A MUSIC MAN
PLAYING HIS GUITAR WHEN HE CAN
STRUMMING OUT A HEARTFELT TUNE
NEVER STOPPING NONE TO SOON
BOXCAR WAS ALSO A LADIES MAN
HAD THEM SPREAD ALL OVER THE LAND
THEY LOVED TO HEAR HIM SING HIS TUNE
THE RASPY VOICE WOULD MAKE THEM SWOON
THEY’D DRESS HIM UP AND FEED HIM WELL
A HOMELESS MAN YOU’D NEVER TELL
A DAY OR TWO HE’D SING HIS SONG
WHEN RESTLESS CAME HE’D THEN BE GONE
HEADED DOWN THAT SOUTHBOUND TRACK
HEARING THE BEAT OF THE CLITITY CLACK
DREAMING UP ANOTHER SONG
OF LOVE GONE RIGHT AND THEN GONE WRONG
I MET BOXCAR WAY DOWN IN MACON
LOOKING SAD AND ALL FORSAKEN
I ASKED HIM WHAT THE PROBLEM WAS
WHY THE TEARS, WHAT WAS THE CAUSE?
BOXCAR TOLD ME IT WAS LOVE
A GODDESS BORN FROM UP ABOVE
A GIRL SO SWEET AND SLIGHTLY SILLY
WHOSE MOTHER CALLED HER LITTLE MILLIE
BUT MOMMA TOLD HER HE WAS WRONG.
HE DIDN’T SING THE PROPER SONG
NO JOB HAD HE OR DOLLAR BILLS
TO KEEP HER WARM FROM WINTER CHILLS
SO BOXCAR’S ON A WESTBOUND TRACK
TO HEAR THE BEAT OF THE CLITITY CLACK
A BEER OR TWO HE WASHES DOWN
AND THEN THERE CAME THAT SIMPLE FROWN
AND AFTER SEVERAL HUNDRED MILES
THE FROWN TURNED INTO HAPPY SMILES
AND SONGS HE WROTE IN PASSING TIME
OF LOVE THAT HAD NO ENDING RHYME
HE ENDED UP IN KANSAS CITY
LIVING WITH A GIRL SO PRETTY
DANCING IN A SATIN GOWN
SHE LOVED IT WHEN HE CAME TO TOWN
HE NAMED HER IN A SPECIAL TUNE
HE WROTE FOR HER THAT NIGHT IN JUNE
HE TOLD HER THAT HE’D SOON BE BACK
AND THEN HE LEFT FOR THE ENDLESS TRACK
AND NOW YOU KNOW OF BOXCAR JACK
WHO LOVED THE SOUND OF THE CLITITY CLACK
WHO LOVED THE GIRLS AND LIKED TO CROON
ON A TRAIN SOMEWHERE BELOW THE MOON
Bowlegged belligerent bellowing Boxcar Betty
Rarely rose to the ripe, refreshed or ready
She always had an exasperatingly idiotic excuse
To cavort and converse on Charlie’s Chicken caboose
Eddie’s Enthusiastic Engine was trite and tired.
Of these two freeloaders, quarrelsomely quagmire.
He wanted both Betty and Charlie off his train.
For they both were a challenge, and a horrible strain.
Boxcar Betty dug in her claws, determined to stay.
She loved riding the rails with Charlie every day.
Eddie had to keep Charlie Chicken too of course.
A train’s caboose is imperative as legs on a horse.