Through struggle
one can justify life
Losing the battle
enhances the view
Blood on the rails
all markings assured
Death as the prize
— recurring anew
(The New Room: June, 2025)
Old, rusty spikes
splinter ties on the ground
Steps echo the sound
Your feet, lost and found
Are you fleeing or flying,
my sweet, archer friend?
I saw arrows bend
Watched you breaking to mend
And I know memories
Rarely put you at ease
So you'd drown them in thunder
Just to find peace
And I'm sorry I couldn't see sooner
But please
Know that I feel your voice
In each reticent breeze
Thank you, dear brother
For each unspoken word
That reminds us to dig deeper still
Thank you, dear brother
For each moment unheard
That reminds us to strengthen our will
Black pumas in daylight
walked paths rarely seen
Enigmatic teen
Riding rails in between
Long years grew the shadows
that kept you returning
To innocence, yearning
To dissonance, churning
I know that our boys
Are suppressed of the choice
To feel through their sadness
And make any noise
And I'm sorry I couldn't see sooner
But please
Know that I feel your voice
In each reticent breeze
Thank you, dear brother
For each unspoken word
That reminds us to let them have tears
Thank you, dear brother
For each moment unheard
That reminds us to open our ears
Expressionless faces from nondescript places
Each to work races to go through their paces
Mothers on day trips with Garrys and Tracys
Hope to avoid unexpected disgraces
Packed in like sardines which happens routinely
Keep a hair’s breadth apart, else it’s unseemly
A man who’s expression says ‘thinking obscenely’
Presses up close, just a little too keenly
Did I feel a hand where a hand shouldn’t be
I don’t mean my arm and I don’t mean my knee
If Mr Obscene one more time gooses me
I’ll give that old pervert a lobotomy
I’ve thought it before and I’ll think it again
This daily commute renders good folk insane
Will I get a medal if I inflict pain
On those who bring prams on a rush hour train?
A tale with no road maps, no signposts, or mile posts.
Snowstorms stench of winter's busy breath;
dagger dances;
trampled plants plead.
Flings a wanton pebble; on mud, a sparrow thuds;
wing-clipped parakeet limps; eyes freeze with awe.
Azure sky mourns, clotting clouds together;
tear-flood bleeds healing earth, yet drought's monarchy reigns.
How long, how long should we long for
drizzles, gently sprinkling drizzles?
disconnected
thoughts arise — die.
Syllables- 12/10/4/4 12/10/10/12 8/8 4/4 (howmanysyllables.com)
*A 1st Place* in the following contest (judged on March 8, 2021)
March 1, 2021
ALL YOURS (Mar 8) Poetry Contest
Contest Sponsor: Brian Strand
Currently things seem to have gone off the rails
One of those times when total bedlam prevails
Car problems, tough choices
Number two, doc appointments
And Cathie has the worst cold, at the top of the scale
Riding the Rails
When we reflect
On our life
We might resemble
A train passenger
Riding and attending to
Clocks and destinations..
The rails on our train
Reveal and restrict and
Guide beliefs in the
Severed nature of things..
As a passenger we are
Rattled by a whistle
High notes we exalt
Low notes we blanket..
Until the day
We step off the train
Into the station
With its permanence
Recognizing arrival
Finding our Home...
The railroad car rocks side to side
As the occupants dream their dreams
He leaves his home to go to war
The world outside not what it seems
And the rails sing out "Tomorrow"
He rests his feet on a shoe box
Filled with the detritus of love
In just one day her features dim
And he wonders who killed the dove
And the rails sing out "Tomorrow"
He closed his eyes for a moment
And a parade filled up the street
He saw the old folks and the young
Covered with rain and snow and sleet
And the rails sang out "Tomorrow"
He rests in foreign soil now
'Neath white crosses arranged above
He wonders deep down in his soul
"Does she know that I died for love?"
And the rails sing out no longer
5-7-19
Contest:Musical Inspiration
Sponsor:Joseph May
Song: The Wind Cries Mary
Rice is really great if you're really hungry
And wanna eat two thousand of something uncrunchy
Does that sound weird
How about corn's ears
Okay I'm off the rails, wanna play rugby?
I walked the rails out of my town this day and saw many things.
Train tracks are different marking a way that is often rank.
Weeds are here seen to conceal trash and rubbish a wild wind brings.
Building has bare back to rails with its loading dock being blank,
old sad car stored in yard having house owned and kept by a crank.
Street fronts are different, laid out for automobiles and such.
See there's an empty glass bottle unbroken some person drank.
Rail's path is lonesome trek; I doubt if I love it very much.
Steel Will and Iron Rails
Hard rumbling click-clack – ever forward
locked within a destinations track
cursed by rising hills – unchanging future
choking on the smoke of looking back.
Driven by the pistons of life’s demons
time racing by its coldly focused eyes
condemned to ride into forever’s sunset
and never turn around to see it rise.
Shadows of the specter daily taunting
a loneliness that serves one selfish end
hope that ‘neath the cloak cold boney fingers
point to a place the endless track must bend.
12/30/2016
submitted to – Poet’s Choice – Poetry Contest
This sickness haunts me
It eats at
my brain as I
attempt to compartmentalize
the virus before it
spreads
further
down
my
nervous
system.
There’s a pitter followed by the patter- all from the pit in my stomach.
As the haunting seeps into my bones and tightens the wires of my being.
Surrounded by compressed wooden sidings, miles from the closest soul surrounded by nothing more than souls…
The train howling outside the window slowly fades dragging my mind far into the
empty forests that this run down city is surrounded by.
Not even nature has the cure to these tightening strings.
Piece by piece the train scrapes at my skull
like an ice cream scoop digging into the bottom of the cookies and cream cardboard container-
Just trying to make one single scoop of sweetness that is so temporary it changes forms in an instant.
This sickness haunts me
not even writing can cure me
It was Christmas with all the holiday cheer
It was a lovely Christmas tree that brought the feeling to preserver
But what made Christmas stand out it was my B&O railroad I am talking about
It was a layout of Baltimore & Ohio railroad being a thrill
My locomotive puffing smoke at free will
It was those passenger cars all lit up
Backgrounds with scenery including a tunnel
As a kid, it was the highlight being my funnel
As my B&O train set maneuvered around the track
It’s my reflection of memory that dates back
The passenger train that made a stop in my house
There’s no room for even a mouse
There are much more words I could say
However, I am sharing with you on this day
B&O you journeyed on
You are in my heart where you belong
You took me to a place being around
A layout that had a small town
You brought me to my own home being filled with love Christmas bound
It was a family celebration and how sweet the sound.
Lifting tram rails in 1940,
he was aware of the Louvre...
was aware of a cameraman.
Now we see a black and white world,
where leaves on trees have shed their green,
and the sky is a wish-washy grey...
We see the tram rails piled untidily,
and a bicycle boy on right
fearing he'll be late for school.
We see his and rail man's Paris of 1940
with years ahead of war in Europe,
and now bereft of trams.
---------------------------------------------------------------
7/10/2015
Contest - Open Poetry
Sponsor - Charlotte Puddifoot
4th place win
---------------------------------------------------------------
Featured poem for week of Sunday, 14th February, 2016.
nostalgia, farewell
RAILS © TANKA
Rails chewed up the land
Buffalo herds cease to roam
Down the railway track
Over hills, over dales gone
‘Big Horns’ and ‘Buffalo Bills’!
Didee
Contest Name : Inspired
By : Wilma N. Neels
train
moves me
shape new thoughts
right from the start
tracks
220620111555
Related Poems