Long Viaduct Poems
Long Viaduct Poems. Below are the most popular long Viaduct by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Viaduct poems by poem length and keyword.
#_#O ccassionally, #h ard lives inspire targets
#_#G rowing #a rdent influence time, ore
#_#U pon #p ainted vows 'mid grace
#_#N ature #p resents evermore search readiness
#_#K een #y our life strength obvious
#_#A cting #b een entertained undrape winning
#_#N ever #i gnite above captivity impatiently
#_#M is-spelt #r isks renew hitherto nurtured
#_#I mprove #t hy nimble age gig
#_#O f #h uge leisure forethought swiftly
#_#L o, #d ays of enummerating viaduct
#_#A ffluence #a chievements via e-books come
#_#M ore #y ears emblaze ligth ceasing
#_#I nmost #m oment flowering image engrave
#_#D early #a dore unending never-ceasing secret
#_#E piphany #n oble nirvana's glories saved
#longliveiscertainbro
Anybody on this road we're on
Ain't nobody wants to be alone
Everybody's trying to make it home
To somebody
Sunflower, we're not in Kansas now
It's a new life down in Alabama
God gave us a little white house
Baby be right, maybe be wrong
We'll make it up as we go along
Been three years stuck in the viaduct
But now, Baby somehow
We got a little white house
Fix the kitchen, paint it blue-gray sky
Place your pretties in your own design
Get some rockers, maybe we can spy
Hummingbirds stop by
Plant some flowers, decorate with stones
Pink flamingoes, a couple garden gnomes
Make your jewelry, I'll write some country songs
We'll make a happy home
Baby be right, maybe be wrong
We'll make it up as we go along
Been three years stuck in the viaduct
But now, Baby somehow
We got a little white house
Sun's shining, summer's coming on
Dogs barking, fat boys mowing lawns
All the kids out, they're all puddling on
The corners
Sunflower, we're not in Kansas now
It's a new life down in Alabama
God gave us a little white house
Baby be right, maybe be wrong
We'll make it up as we go along
Been three years stuck in the viaduct
But now, Baby somehow
We got a little white house
©2019
...I was working construction jobs,
there was a big job for the trains,
to replace an old viaduct
that shook in the wind and the rain.
The government gave money and
put strings on it, that’s what they do,
wanted to ensure diversity
in the engineers and the crew.
They especially wanted women,
to boost their numbers up in STEM,
problem was when we went looking
we had much trouble finding them.
The best ones were hired already,
and not many women remained,
but they scraped together a team,
only one had worked on a train.
for two years there was much planning.
I heard rumblings from above,
consultants said things were amiss,
the design was not strong enough.
Even rumors design reviews
were ignored to not seem sexist,
but most figured it sour grapes,
there’s no way the state would do this.
We built the bridge that they designed,
laid tracks so the trains could fly by,
there was a ceremony when
it opened with a great train ride.
And for four months things seemed allright,
trains went by without a mistake,
until a strut snapped in high wind,
causing a central truss to break
just as a commuter train came,
it fell to the valley below,
investigators went out there,
the reason they wanted to know.
They found bolts that were much too short,
and metal that was much too thin,
foundations not set deep enough
to resist much in gusting wing.
And then began the whole scandal,
when leaks from the state did reveal
reviews rushed through, oversight lax,
they knew there were flaws in the steel.
But politics are politics
when it comes to choosing who works,
sure, ninety-seven people died,
but at least their deaths were diverse.
There’s a flood up in Johnstown,
there's been too much rain,
by a lake where rich people
sail and fish and play,
where the dam has been lowered
to drive carriages,
where the drains have been removed
but no one knows it;
the water starts to crest
and not a man’s at rest,
there’s a flood up in Johnstown,
there’s a flood, there’s a flood.
Theres a flood up in Johnstown,
they clearing the spillway,
men throw mud atop the dam,
crest of it to raise,
they send word down to Johnstown,
but nobody hears,
all the men start a-running,
the dam disappears;
a roar down the valley
and no one knows to flee,
there’s a flood up in Johnstown,
there’s a flood, there’s a flood.
There’s a flood up in Johnstown,
wave comes raging down,
first it come upon South Fork,
thirty houses drowned,
then hits a big viaduct,
plugs up once again,
then it tears through not caring
for the works of men;
Mineral Point gets the shock,
stripped down to the bedrock,
there’s a flood up in Johnstown,
there’s a flood, there’s a flood.
There’s a flood up in Johnstown,
it hits the rail yards,
tosses trains like a kid’s toy,
incredibly far,
then it hits the iron works,
a wall of debris,
the furnaces belch black smoke,
augur tragedy;
it’s now six-stories high,
bound up by valley sides,
there’s a flood up in Johnstown,
there’s a flood, there’s a flood.
There’s a flood up in Johnstown,
wood and glass all fly,
people hurled by the water,
in seconds they die,
whole buildings ripped form the ground,
turned into debris,
it mere seconds it flattened
half of the city;
and most of the wreckage
slams into the rail bridge,
there’s a flood up in Johnstown,
there’s a flood, there’s a flood.
There’s a flood up in Johnstown,
the end of the flow,
trees, rail cars, and smashed buildings
stacked against the road,
then the whole thing starts burning,
kills those trapped inside,
in the span of mere minutes
two thousand have died;
do people stop and pray
when the cross that bridge today,
there’s a flood up in Johnstown,
there’s a flood, there’s a flood.
2025.05.18
Today, I had a morning started quite roughly.
I almost missed the bus,
Then actually missed the stop at the train station,
That costed me one hour moving and waiting around.
Finally, I reached my destination.
I climbed up hill of the Malmsbury Reservoir,
Followed the walking trails
Walked along the Coliban River,
Got closer to the arched brick bridge,
Near Ellesmere Place Malmsbury Viaduct.
I finally found the Malmsbury Botanical gardens.
There was this interesting wooden bridge,
paved its curved path took me to a small island,
Where I was surrounded by lot of water birds.
Leisurely peddled on the pond water.
I fed them with my banana and mandarins,
But they cleverly spitted out the skins.
I then arrived at the station,
In time to jump on the train to Bendigo.
It came late by ten minutes,
But it worked out perfectly for me,
I wanted to visit the Sacred Heart Catheral.
When arrived, I missed the bus number 5,
But the female driver of bus # 50,
She was kind to take me
All the way up to the hill,
That allowed me just walking across and down,
Visited the closed holy church.
I walked down hill all the way to Bendigo station.
I was exhausted and tired.
I plonked into one of the seat.
Finally getting off and arrive home before seven o'clock.
I rushed home to watch "The Piano" series,
At 19:30: for the next four Sunday.
In my many poems
Of a country so rare
Spare me a few minutes
As i take you there
We are Alba
The land of the Scots
Once we meet
We are forget me not
A nation so free
In this world we reside
Bravehearts
Oozing with pride
And the news of today
Confirms my write
For a train journey so beautiful
Has just been named, the worlds best sight
From Glasgow to Mallaig
Gorgeous lochs it does pass
On train journeys the world over
This is above first class
Over the Glenfinnan viaduct
Its the first of its kind
Made of modern concrete
It will blow your mind
The silver sands of Morar
Like gold dust in the mist
Whilst the Atlantic tides desire
They can't take, but they still persist
The train journey i talk about
In this land of mine
It runs from Glasgow to Mallaig
Its " The West Highland Line "
So my friends on the Soup
If you get the chance to travel
Visit my Braveheart land
And watch our beauty unravel
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland-3.php
In the midst of a wet night,
Discovered myself upon a viaduct.
Straggled or vagrant, uncertain.
Not petrified by the dark, rumbling sky,
Amazed to find the place familiar.
I perceived the faintest advancing steps,
On turning back, delighted with her presence.
The cold, shivering breeze,
Waved her black long hair.
I insisted not to blink.
She ambled,
At my fore now, only whispered.
I apologize greatly, for concealment, for eons.
I was denied your presence: a shadow's grace.
Only welcoming death set my soul free.
Fate unveiled its script,
Offering me a last goodbye.
Imparting my truth before the noose claims me.
My world knows no dawn since....
Now gone, shine bright, bring me dawn once more.
Conveying my farewell,
I plunged into the water.
Bewildered-reincarnated.
Faced....
My damp eyes.
A bridge from colloquial to courtly
fare
A span where idealism and fantasy
pair
A railway to the existential realm;
celestial lair
A conduit through which rational
discourse can flare
Deep medium to: forage, inculcate,
and inform
Broad brush to paint rare beauty;
sculpt surrealistic form
Incisive scalpel to surgically alter
the societal norm
Delicate utensil to educate on
civility and decorum
A literary organ; a prosaic construct
A mechanism our syntax to
deconstruct
An analytical tool; an observational
viaduct
Introspective milieu to reduct;
extrovertive sphere to reconstruct
A semantical edifice that aspiring
wit, lofty orations implore
An experimental structure
gramatical anomalies to explore
A thematic repository in which
concrete ideas, abstract notions to
pour
A vernacular cathedral butressed by
an idiomatic core
Salt City Syracuse, You dwell in Mid State,
You are used for testing new products,
Rebuild, rebuild where you are,
15th Ward East, Southside of town,
81 came it decimated you,
Know home you know more,
81, Upstate Med is now,
What is the emotion of families you dislodged,
Highway robbery some may say,
Hundreds of families—many of color,
Forced to relocate, nowhere to go.
Now it has run its course,
Time to come down, down,
15th Ward, would you be renewed,
Urban Renewal to the rescue,
Who will come now,
Viaduct, Community Grid, Orange Tunnel concept,
Which one will it be,
Do the City have the key,
Or at what fee,
Salt City Syracuse, open your eye for us to see,
Families displaced, give us back the key.
Limestone’s steady stream still pours
from the small cave’s mouth
half-way up the hill,
keeping the small pond full.
The dam of chiseled boulders
guides water’s flow into the viaduct,
standing on ever higher pillars,
toward valley’s mighty wheel.
Water’s power turns large stones
to grind each farmer’s harvest,
and iron blades create straight boards
from greedy men’s harvested trees.
But woods nearby,
where saw’s voice can still be heard
remain untouched by axe’s blade
or farmer’s itchy hands.
Trees that Donaldson saved still stand--
mighty birch among the oak and hickory
tower over cleared land,
preserved for hiker’s eyes and feet.
Virgin growth of massive trees
bring peace to those who
walk its ancient paths
and view this modern rarity.