Falling asleep , I had a dream, a timeless dream
A wish for me to go wherever I wanted to
I said the sixties and I awoke to the sound of a Green Tambourine
There were messages in the music
With Dylan crying the times they are a changing
I felt alive again, I could change the world
Camelot in the Capitol ending in tragedy
An unpopular war escalated by big business,
Political turmoil, campus riots, a new movement
A new frontier, a lack of apathy, a sense of purpose
God! To be alive, to protest injustice, to effect change
A friendly invasion from across the sea
John, Paul, George and Ringo, James Bond
Psychedelic beauty with flowers in her hair
Peace, love, brotherhood, a time to sing.
Draft cards and bras burning in defiance
Laugh in, Love in, what a time to be alive.
Young king Tut, time honoured pharaoh
In rage, deaf like the sea, with fires impatience
Boy king worshipped as a God
The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet.
Buried with skill not food for worms
But time for him grants a heavier doom
Time holds nothing
watching it flow
bring to birth
only to see it fade
Time gives no warning
in a moment
everything held dear
becomes ash
Time is a friend
it is also an enemy
bringing an end to it all
Come on little children, put your ears upon that shiny silver rail.
You know that train is comin’ and you know this time it isn’t going to fail,
So listen in the distance, you can hear the whistle whining in the air,
So hurry to the station, bring your neighbors, ev’rybody will be there.
This just might be the last old-time train song,
Sing it one more time for you and me,
Kickin’ up cinders down the line,
The engineer, he’s a
friend of mine,
This just might be the last old-time train song.
Hurry to the platform, try to see the train, it’s just a mile away,
And listen to those drivers poundin’, bringin’ back the sounds of yesterday,
The engineer is waving, all the little boys, they seem to know his name,
The station’s full of people, and the train is here, and ain’t you glad you came?
Now the whistle’s blowing, now the fireman’s stoking up a little steam,
The passengers are boarding and I wonder, is this really all a dream?
And is that train returning, or will it be gone forever down the track?
It doesn’t matter, we’ll keep singing, just as if that train is comin’ back.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.