Long Railway Poems
Long Railway Poems. Below are the most popular long Railway by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Railway poems by poem length and keyword.
Dark clouds fill the horizon.
sweeping through the sky
like soldiers going to battle,
layers and layers of clouds
spreading all around hunkering
in th ground where destiny is bound,
I can feel the wind chill in my back.
and the mad trees running around in the breeze.
and the deer’s looking for shelter underneath the bridge.
the horses and the mules are looking confused.
and they escape to higher ground.
the mad wind sets in ripping off roofs.
rooting up trees, smashing cars
and breaking down barricade doors
it dumps tons of water onto waste land.
flooding roads, villages and town
forcing the people to leave their homes.
and shelter in the railway town
and over in the other State a white
mountain stood boldly at the gate,
but there was no one to make the snow man.
Christmas has come and gone.
and the children were not playing on the lawn.
and the thick snow began to
grow and the wild wind began to blow.
you told me that it was winter.
when I will have a decent supper
when the water receded
and the snow melts
and they bury all the dead.
the exodus will begin.
Parents methods, a question asked
Mothers rule one, questions, answers forthcoming
Fathers think they are kings of the family domain
As said previously see rule one if ever questioned
Mothers watched from afar so proud of her Children
My Father dealt with life as fun
Ruffled hair, winked when complimenting
A show you how, the way to learn kind of Dad
His shed a place of wonder and colour
Full of budgies and canaries chirping
My job, change water and feed the song birds
Dad loved woodworking, left-over skill from seafaring
Most evenings, sounds of his music would lead me to him
A ukulele a banjo and accordions on show
Sea shanties sang low and slow
His Spanish guitar his pride and joy
I sat at his feet but never learned his music skills
A quiet life is all he asked for
No hugs no shake of the hands, his smile and wink sufficed
One cold and wet Welsh morning
A railway station the final farewells were given
Goodbyes were said, a son was leaving the family fold
A land far away called Australia, offered a fresh start in life
Mothers tears flowed; Dad just stood in silence
Our eyes showed our emotions
"Will I see you again" his only words
We stood face to face, both lost in the moment
A shake of the hand brought smiles to our faces
Dads emotions always kept under control
Despite his smile, tears were running down his face
Mother held her grandchildren close
Her thoughts, scoop them up and take them home
Her eyes showed questions never asked
My Mothers final hugs were full of warmth
The scent of her perfume with me forever
The train was ready to leave, London town its first destination
Sydney Australia here we come
The railway station platform now deserted
Empty spaces waiting to greet other travelers
The Ghost Train
North Wind, it was a howling, the sky was black as guilt
Malevolent the sheen, where upon her moonbeams spilt
Through the murky distance, her belly glowing bright
Roaring down the line, she was roaring down the line
Charging down the line, the Ghost Train rolls tonight
She glides along the platform, where haunted faces wait
With dreams of grand ambition, that only she can slate
The driver in his blood red suit, turns a skeletal grin
Toward the hungry hopefuls, then ushers each one in
From store to fire, his actions deft
The fireman twisting on his plate
Stokes the engine right to left
He fuels the fire of fate
He mutters and stutters, “We can’t be late”
For time is money and money won’t wait
With shovels full of human desire
He fuels the fire of hate
The whistle cord is pulled, the flag flutters all clear
The engine she is plied, starts the journey into fear
On it goes a rumbling,
On it’s round iron feet
Inside the folk are tumbling
From every leathered seat
Amid the laughter and the chants
What life, what love, what times
Everyone is held entranced
By ghostly railway lines
Tittle tattle chatter, ash from the chimney pours
Natter rattle clatter, onward the Ghost Train roars
Strange games are played
Some win some lose
Sincere thank you’s become mislaid
As each the other use
Beneath the load the earth she quakes
As all aboard debauch
Done deals and shady handshakes
On every carriage porch
Kerching-kerching-kerching, the till bell rings
More-more-more, the engine softly sings
From store to fire, his actions deft
The fireman twisting on his plate
Stokes the engine, right to left
He fuels the fire of fate
He mutters and stutters, “we can’t be late”
For power is waiting and power is great
With shovels full of human remains
He fuels the fire of hate
In never ending search, she roams across the land
Controlled by the evil, of the blood red suited hand
Through the murky distance, her belly glowing bright
Charging down the line, the Ghost train rolls tonight
If it pulls into your station
Will you jump upon its frame?
Will you lose all inhibition?
On your way to wealth and fame
For when the ride is done
There’s no-one else to blame
If you find you become
Another furnace flame.
A funny thing happened to or with me this morning during the 11 O'clock hour. During the few moments that I was watering our lemon tree, a train went back. This was the Amtrak and not the commercial cargo locomotive. For the most part, I had always thought upon the trainline behind my property as an annoyance and not an asset. But today, for reasons unknown to me, I was forced to acknowledge my selfishness, the variety that does not always focus upon the common good.
With regards to the sound of trains out back, at one time my prayer would have been, "O Lord, deliver me from the pain of the trains. O Lord, what was I thinking when I bought a home within two football fields from a trainline?
But this morning as I watered the plum and lemon trees, the flowers and the Rose of Sharon, I was not so inclined. As I listened to the sound of the train making her way down the east bound railway line, it dawned on me that I was without the usual whine.
I then, in a moment, refrained from my usual way of thinking and saw the trains as rolling wheels of commerce and many tons of economic activity. There were seeds for the sower and food for the hungry. There were oil tankers, logging cars, and automobiles. Today, I heard the infrequent sounds of horns as safety measures, and found that the rumbling of loaded boxcars behind the protected sound barriers was not so annoying.
73120PSCtest, Completely Your Choice(26) Any Theme Any Form, Strand
This special place of Wilderswil
a little village in vicinity of Interlaken
there in Switzerland's Bernese Oberland
one just needs to stop and simply stand
From my holidays there in the early 90s
this was just beautiful, a sheer Swiss delight
so much to enjoy here among its heights
especially when the sun was so bright
The grandeur of the mountains around
there Jungfraujoch and Schilthorn so stands
superlatives they are so very glorious
creatively made by no human hand
This little village sits between two lakes
lakes Thun and Brienz are ideal sailing trips
so to reach lovely hillside walks
where the scenery catches you in its grip
The railway is always so spot on
never late to wherever your destination
so Wilderswil, I just love you so
hope to see you again on another occasion
Two wheeled commuters with heads booted with helmets, dotted the highway;
The four wheeled rich hooted at pedestrians daring to cross their path,
While rental three wheelers heated them all, filling even places like foot path;
Traffic winked red, green, and yellow to jam, trim, and brim the highway.
Like water discharged from flooded reservoir, humanity flowed on the highway,
Down to their destined ends, discharging spray and smoke, littering its path
With fed up lives, held up to the grave; lawmakers floated on the crest of the path.
Only the hapless found themselves fighting for space in the helpless highway.
On this highway, at the peak hour, popped up a human head as if cropped
From the ripe body as a yield to the reapers blooding the streets with sickles;
The highway halted; heads craned above wheeled carriers; questions hurried
Everywhere with worries and wonders; “Hyderabad has a head chopped;
Is it for ‘Biriyani’?” Some quickly tweeted like men of booze oozing for pickles;
Cops looking for the lost head, severed by train, at last sighed, with heads retrieved.
[Cops in Hyderabad, India retrieved a severed head from a railway track, put the torso and head in a sack and took it to hospital for postmortem. But on the way, the head slipped down from the sack and caused a commotion]
EMBARRASSED
I met him in my cousin-sister’s place.
He was playing with her kids in vigor.
Sister was watching with glowing face.
She introduced me as her new neighbor.
I as in regular touch with my sister.
On office trip her husband was out off and on.
I tried to lend a helping hand to her,
when she had to stay all alone.
Onward when I visited my sister
I chanced to meet him and interacted.
A handsome guy holding nice nature,
But I never felt attracted.
After college hours direct from railway station
On short visit I used to drop to my sister.
In our young days, there was no facility of phone.
Only approach of introvert lovers happened though letter.
That afternoon I just got down from the train.
The guy blocked my path and said ‘Please!’
I was astonished. He looked so strained.
He finished’ Will you kindly take this?’
He held a closed envelope in his hand.
I was puzzled. I had no interest.
What to do? I just could not stand.
Next came up my most embarrassing moment.
He explained ‘I love your sister.
We are exposed. I am scared of scandal.
Please do me this favor.
Hand over this letter to her: urgent and confidential.’
07/11/16
My Most Embarrassing moment Contest
Sponsor Cindi Rockwell
I feel the rumble of the wheels,
and the tumble of my heart
Trembling, a look outside,
as the landscape fades, and quickly grays,
to become swallowed by the dark
Adrift is the smoke, that chokes the sky, that I must leave behind...
Blurring as the evening light, is sighing, quite resigned
The steam has fogged the prairie plains
and I can't help but cry again.
With tear-stained eyes, I see my own reflection
I've left the world I knew before, that left me so rejected
I sit upright, my corset tight, I must get through the night
My muscles are stiff, and I am weary, afraid
The train heading west.....where the crimson sky fades
Where the grasses will sway, and the cattle will graze
and a stranger will pay...to share farming ways
I hope he will share a smile and be kind
What is ahead, only the future will find
Tomorrow, under a different sky, in a brand new way
I will wake up to a different sun, and to a wistful song of yesterday
'Though, I cannot find a star, through the drowning dredge of rain
Tonight the moon, I have left behind, wears a worried face again
I pray the sun will rise anew, and fill new skies above
I pray the life, and the stranger's hand .....will be the one I love
__________________________
1/24/15 "Railway Journeys" Contest, Sponsored by Shadow Hamilton
Oh what a predicament as we sped through the night,
A whole train stretched behind us without a single light,
And through the thin walls we could plainly hear
The threats being shouted from both front and rear.
The long blonde squaddie, whose name I can’t recall
Nervously panicked because he’d caused it all.
An urgent call of nature on a compartmented train
Solved by opening a window to pass water in the rain;
But he removed a fitted bulb, modesty being his plan
And fused the whole lot behind with a very loud bang
Leading to this very tense and worrying situation
As the train drew ever nearer to Victoria Station.
One hell of a fizzer for damaging a train,
Maybe another for peeing in the rain,
The trouble only worsening after release
From the railway to the military police.
And maybe, on top, some demotion
For having caused such commotion.
When it arrived thank the lord much confusion arose
As we hit the platform running and away on our toes
As from behind we heard a very loudly voice say
That’s where they went as he pointed the wrong way;
So we mingled with the crowd having slowed to a walk
And joining in freely with all the discontented talk.
The gods must have smiled on us to allow us to go
To celebrate in Trafalgar Square and later on in Soho.
We all joined hands there in the crowded square
To sing Auld Lang Syne with those gathered there.
A night to remember, New Years Eve 1964
All much too old now for such excitement any more.
Down a runway skybound
to cross a continent,
see from a window
a city fall away
with bright beads
strung along a coast,
then turning inland,
clumped townships
shrinking to solitary lights
sunk far apart
into hours
of featureless dark.
Disconnected
from the earth,
let the mind paint
the blank distances
and wander landscapes
of Namatjira's hills
and ghost gums
and photographic stills
of outback towns
and along railway lines
spearing the horizon
where a big sun
hemorrhages
into an evening sky.
Then settle back
and allow a familiar picture
to arise from behind closed eyes
of light patched office towers
and stacked apartments
with tall derricks
puncturing the night
as it slides by
in soundless haste.
And way below,
playing out on some
inner screen, follow
stuttering road signs
and arteries of red tail lights
leading to narrow alleys where,
as if funneled into an ear,
you hear the sound of sirens
being dragged
along hot, crowded streets.
In time, let the noise abate
until faces dissolve and life
slurries back into a thick
air conditioned hum.
Doze a little
then try to unpack
the images collaged
across the hours.
Nothing adheres.
What had once
held together seems
to fray and fall apart.
Feel a slight unease
as the engines begin
to throttle back and comence
the slow descent. There,
bubbled on the horizon,
see the glow of city lights
drawing in a converging arc
of flights like moths.
Notes.
Namatjira refers to great Australian and First Nation painter,
Albert Namatjira (1902 - 1959) famous for capturing central Australian landscape including the iconic Ghost Gum, a species of Eucalyptus tree. His work speaks to a deep spiritual connection to the land, something held by his people for well over 40,000 years.
Poem refers to flight across the continent of Australia, East to West, approx. distance 4000 km.