Long Trestles Poems
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Not the wisping grasp against the parchment
That licking click of writer as he tpyes
The cold inanimates touch of skin on screen
Memories only shorter I eye aye the Scottish yes
Scrapes and scrawls on cave dwelt walls
Truncated truck trimmed in intricate trestles
Who was the first message in a bottle for
Bobbles of sheerest ink like Scottish lochs
as.morning mists turn solid for a movement
I enjoy being wrong
Keeping pictures of the dead to the soon to be
Words the unleashed an atom
Words that end wars
illlusions putting fuses to the con
My muse has left
So I better be …….gon
“The mind trestles the bridge to redemption.”
– Thompson Emate
When night falls,
Sounds come from stalls
piercing through the tranquil night,
We seek for light.
The night awakens the eerie,
The ambience is dark and dreary,
We hear footsteps and see shadows,
The uncanny lurks outside our windows.
A bridge needs crossing when redemption sits on the other side,
From the sinister night, we cannot hide,
We prop feeble hope,
Even as the night takes us down a slope.
The night opens its door,
Strangers come out of the store,
We’re not cowed,
Our fears have been floored.
October 4, 2024.
Not the wisping grasp against the parchment
That licking click of writer as he tpyes
The cold inanimates touch of skin on screen
Memories only shorter I eye aye the Scottish yes
Scrapes and scrawls on cave dwelt walls
Truncated truck trimmed in intricate trestles
Who was the first message in a bottle for
Bobbles of sheerest ink like Scottish lochs
as.morning mists turn solid for a movement
I enjoy being wrong
Keeping pictures of the dead to the soon to be
Words the unleashed an atom
Words that end wars
illlusions putting fuses to the con
My muse has left
So I better be …….gon
She misted into the bar
and stood blinking in the neon wash
Her gaze meandering
over tribal councils
of youthful conquest and conflicts.
Curled trestles of burnt blonde
hair framed her naivety.
Greenest eyes with hints of jealous dragon scales.
Red satin shirt worshipped her shape
and time stole her space
The murmurs of mirth
and sated thirst
could not daunt my gaze
From a tortured corner
a group of amazonian's
poured over a beer soaked table
a voice chipped the silence
"Susan.over here"
The slightest smile burned upon her face.
She shimmered by my table
to take her place within the gaggle of shadows
Eyes devoured her as she made her way
Unwanted advances spurned
Gigolos and gents rebuked
As the night unfurled my thoughts
could not erase that moment
played and savoured more
Night had stole the night
as orders were refused
Watched her group fit their armour
and re-attach high heels.
In the midst of drunken laughs
and squeals
And as her hand pushed the exit door
I stood and voice pardoned words
"Susan"
her hesitation turned to turn
and unfamiliar eyes met hers
"See you later"
My impertinence produced the slightest grin
and a moment shy of sin
~~
Into the heart of Canada on a winter journey,
On the northern steam train to James Bay;
A scenic tour with a dining car and sleeping beds,
I steamed through glacial peaks and fir trees.
Past snow covered fields and across bridges,
High on breathtaking deep canyon trestles;
Slowly up steep slopes and around sharp curves,
Past rolling hills and deep, dangerous ravines.
Along frozen streams and watchful wildlife,
Into an underground tunnel that was so dark;
Great the rushing waters of a river over worn rocks,
We plunged into a canyon floor and up again.
And we glided to a stop with the steam blowing,
Into the blue sky of James Bay, Ontario, Canada;
I stood there in total bliss and awe with my excursion,
Excited I could not wait for the return journey.
___________________________
January 20, 2015
Poetry/Verse/Into The North
Copyright Protected, ID 01-634-694-20
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France
For the Premier contest, Railway Journeys,
sponsor Shadow Hamilton, Judged 02/2015
Third Place
October’s Finale
October sets the stage for ghostly goblins – frost on pumpkins;
Black cats yowl on top of fences arching, upstage the moonlight;
Floating apparitions of wraiths soliloquies in mid-flight fright;
Full moons cast eerie – shadows lost in howling ghost light winds.
Echoes of shame like bare skeleton bones, rattle in chains
Specters of spirits roam through crumbling haunted castles
Ghost trains run again then again, over broken gobo trestles
Spooky whispers of forgotten lines in hair raising rains!
A possessed chorus line of leering pumpkins faces night
Tells a hair raising tale of a roaming headless horseman
Breaking through fourth walls to ride in a spine tingling plan
From the wings on a dark and stormy Halloween midnight
Howling hounds wake vampires who escape from coffins –
Hide from mirrors cloaked backstage with no reflection
Bubbling cauldrons cook creepy spells upon prop inspections
While spirits serenade in ad-lib on stringless mandolins.
Brittle headstones speak in lines of green lichen slime
Whispers blow out flickering lime lights of lantern candles
Graveyards draped in flowing scenes of cobweb handles
Heartbeats pound in monologues behind a scrim of fleeing time.
Haunted theater creaks with unseen footsteps mystery -
A playhouse podium for phantom encores - blocking bows -
Until twelve bells closes shut this deathly stage door somehow -
For November’s morning review that laughs at death’s lost victory.
All Hallows Eve call time when spirit sightings seem to occur -
Screeches of everlasting doom run rampant in audition -
Find their final curtain ringing down on their perdition,
Eternal life, the blessing seen, in the finale of October.
10-5-20
Contest: October
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
Like the faint ray of sun on an autumn day,
Thou alluring Josephus, bring all my warmth.
Trestles on trees crunch while the birds play;
And all the stars sparkle as if it was the fourth.
Crossing paths with displeasing actions,
Worrisome over my fleeting hereafter,
You are the calming force of my interactions.
The gracious beauty of mine rejoices in laughter.
Till the very day of our sweet encounter,
You’ll give every kiss through our 4 grand miles.
Every second that tick is worth all your smiles.
Infatuating more than our hearts portray,
Like the faint ray of sun on an autumn day.
Bubbling babbling burbling banter from the bar..
Sup hush….memory lane trip...Proustian rush..pleasingly tickled.
Plushly ebbed…spidery beer swirls webbed…lace whirls..grace dimpled dappled jar..
Perch...parched pagans besmirch..sip...druid fluid drip..Iris’s secular church..
Venerate yesteryear dips…commemorate Faustian fillips....teasingly pickled..
Smug treacle toned thatch rugs hugs sturdy slabs.. shrugs..
Tugs tussling tree torn trusses and trestles....
Trumpets tradition.. crisp crumpets in flames..sedition flickering..
Like sassy strumpets calling each other names…playfully bickering..
Remember the surreal cast….gayfully ethereal echoes..
Beacons blush in the embers of the past..
Classy pubs dripping with polished pewter.. parochial paraphernalia…ballsy brass...
Crepuscular charms. splinters splicing smokey shadows..
Wafting whispers.. across tobacco tinted tainted times..
Whistles whetted..quaffing…quenching ...cavorting with crannies..
Carousing with nooks naked in timber flannelled panels..
Canoodling on fecund bulbous bales farm foraged.. freshly fashioned...
Flirtatious follicle flicks....gurgling guffaws, raffish rascals' whisky whimsy..
Courting curious covens..sporting prosecco cackle cacophonies.
As sons become dad..in turn perched with their lad..
Lady lawyer betwixt a pimpled tyro…local employer, bumpkin on the giro..
Museums of marvels.. hoodwink misplaced metaphors..
Laced with a house pour of moreish memories of before..
That without impunity the nub of a pub..
The bar.. a community hubbub hub..
Gracious Landladies…loquacious Landlords..
Sagacious stars...near and far..
We raise our jar.
For our home from home..
A public house..
Ta..
The Phoenix Column was invented
And patented in 1862 by Samuel Reeves,
Vice President of Phoenix Iron Works.
It consisted of sections of rolled,
Flanged wrought iron, riveted together,
Creating a hollow structural column
That was lightweight, but strong.
It enabled the Phoenix Bridge Company,
An affiliate of Phoenix Iron Works,
To design structures that set world records
For vertical height and distance spanned.
They built Phoenix Column bridges, trestles, and such
All over the United States and all over the world.
Until the day they didn’t anymore.
Eventually, everything changes.
The Phoenix column was made obsolete
By the steel I-beam, which is easier,
And cheaper to manufacture.
Foreign competition took its toll.
Phoenix Bridge Company and Phoenix Iron Works
Both went out of business.
Condos now fill the space where
The open hearths and rolling mills once stood.
But the history remains.
And I consider the fact, with no small sense of irony,
That I compare myself to a Phoenix Column.
I'm lightweight and strong, but hollow inside,
And well along to being obsolete.