Best Locomotive Poems
I feel so grand this special day in June
while waiting at the station for my ride
aboard the new steam engine coming soon
to take me to a place where I can hide
from city noise and busy city streets;
from smog-filled air and houses crowded so,
to countrysides with grassy fields of wheat
and clear blue skies where soft winds come and go.
Here comes the beauty, black, in clouds of steam;
she pulls beside the station; "All Aboard"
is called, and so I quickly run and dream
to settle down with suitcase neatly stored.
Click-clack of spinning wheels sounds like a song;
the gray steam lends the awe of mystery,
with cloud-like drifts that form and move along
while taking me to somewhere wild and free.
With constant pace, the steam train grinds its wheels
through mountain passes, narrow tunnels too.
The beauty of the valley, hills, and fields
soon takes my breath away; a wondrous view!
As on she chugs with clanging bell on top,
she sings a song of motion heading home-
that place down yonder where she'll make a stop;
my destination of new lands to roam.
January 21, 2015
~1st Place
Contest: Railroads, A Historical Glance Back
Sponsor: BJ Legros Kelley
Judged: 11/16/2021
Hear the lonesome whistle blow, it echoes across the vast
Continental divide, connecting the Pacific and Atlantic
Coastal shores, by the steel rails iron horse.
It raged in blazing thunder, leaving a storm cloud of white
Smoke in it's wake.
Lightning's hell speed, drives this devil's steed, with flames
Fire, feeding it's belly, by coal and sinews muscled sweat.
The wrought iron beast emerges, from the black pitch of night,
It's sharpen wheels of harden metal, cut, slicing through the
Raw flesh of mother earth, leaving her bleeding crimson red.
Bound and shackled, is this monstrous man-made beast,
Held captive, by the leg irons of progress.
Men covered in soot and ash, tend to the heart and hearth,
Of this demon bringing forth greed's prosperity.
Greased and oiled, pistons push gears, driving this seemingly
Living creation, of mechanical engineering, lit are it's eyes of
Fire, burning through the blackness of night.
The engineer holding the throttle to the floor,
Praying to God, he'll see the sun's dawning
Once more.
Tribal chieftains stand tall on a grassy knoll,
Observing the iron horse below, as the eagle
Soars above, shedding it's feathers in mid airs flight.
As the weeping woman cries, for her people,
For she alone, realizes what is it come.
The mighty buffalo, roam freedoms open
Tundra, as a herd of millions, soon to be
Nothing but dust shadows, phantom ghosts
Legendary beasts hunted by the native braves.
Around the sacred camp fires of old these
Ancient story's of the courageous hunters, shall
Be retold to generation to come.
The mighty Buffalo are brought to the brink of
Extinction by the long rifles of the white mans gun.
Yet these white devils still come, like a tidal wave,
Washing the prairies beauty away.
Hear the lonesome whistle blow, it
Echoes across the vast continental divides,
Connecting the Atlantic and Pacific coastal
Shores, by the steel rails iron horse.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Steam powered steel wheels,
pushing pistons in cycles
of captured time.
A locomotive
Barreling through blizzard's tracks
The engines pump fiercely
Churning white skies into black
Hot with steamy rage
Its whistle screams into the air
Reminding all who hear it
A monster is drawing near
It doesn't care for winter
Or the snowdrifts piling on
It feeds on the very mountains
And breathes fire from their ore
And as darkness falls across the land
This train, keeps coming on
It's glowing eyes shining bright
Onto beds of steel and rock
I hear it in the distance, now
It wails into the night
And cast a chill right through me
More than the snow and ice
The ground begins to tremble
The air grows colder still
And I loathe that locomotive
That comes against my will
My bags I've packed with this and that
And family waits to send me off
Underneath the cold starlight
Where that train will soon be stopped
Then off to fight another fight
I've heard that call to arms
But it's this train I fear the most
For it takes me off to war
The Locomotive
The mighty Locomotive,
Was the muscle of its day.
Moving freight and passengers,
Down a steel highway.
It’s beauty and it’s romance,
Made headlines near and far.
Train robberies and train wrecks,
It had become a star.
The Locomotive was thought to be,
Man's answer to the world.
Until new and better innovations,
Soon would be unfurled.
As all things do there come a time,
It certainly looked for sure.
That the mighty Locomotives day,
Was going to be no more.
It had all but died away,
Till it was born again.
The Diesel took the place of Steam,
New life it had regained.
It still hauls freight as always,
That will never end
And passengers get more scenic rides
Across this majestic land.
The mighty Locomotive,
May not be the star these days.
But it will be a long-time coming,
Before it fades away.
Straight moves the locomotive train miles
Traveling over desert flatland forging ahead,
Coal steam engine Number 9 chug, chug, chug,
Sound waves rolls through, satisfying sensation is said.
Locomotive whistle sounds station steam rolling in,
Little one hears repeats ‘choo-choo’ rolls to stop,
All aboard! Rolls locomotion moving, snack on tasty
Peanut brittle, readying for dining car delicious hop.
Mom holds little son on her lap, with sounds
Cowboys and Indians along the train,
Surprise action wonder, heard of Hereford
Beef cattle is west trademark railroad vein.
Character western attitude locomotive fun
How the west was won whistle-stop rustic town,
Gold payload brought on of family and cousin
Forge ahead, chug along, Heaven brings us together joyous sound.
Great locomotive
Blowing glorious whistle
Rumbling down the tracks
Leaving sense of longing peace
With rhythms greatest moments
Russell Sivey
The Conductor
David J Walker
The low rumbling voice
Of the locomotive reminded me
Of my time traveling days from this to
Another place
another time
In space
That would become Mine as well
Where the young sang
Love songs in romance
Languages unknown
In this today
The engineer poet played his prose
On his whistle in echoed harmonies
on the landscape
While trees danced to the tune in the
Midnight rambling concert
In the moonscape
I have been the passenger
I have been the
Engineer
I have been the conductor
On the passage to portholes
Both far and near
And now
I am content to listen to
The train pass
Knowing at last
Where it is going
It’s echo in the distance
Clear
Icy blue water showing through thin ice
Train crossing on the bridge high above
On silver tracks worn slick with the years,
The trestle creaking, boxcars screeching
One after another streaks of daylight
Blipping through the narrow passages,
Housing enormous couplers, air brakes
Occasionally squealing cryptic messages
Graffiti on the sides with sidewalk crayons
Like strange Middle Eastern languages
Moving too rapidly to be translated,
Steam escaping, whistling for a crossing
Several miles on the other side of the river.
written March 8, 2022