Rails Poems - Poems about Rails

POEMS ABOUT POOL SHARKS Fair Game by Michael R. Burch At the Tennessee State Fair, the largest stuffed animals hang tilt-a-whirl over the pool tables with mocking button eyes, knowing the playing field is unlevel, that the rails slant, ever so slightly, north or south, so that gravity is always on their side, conspiring to save their plush, extravagant hides year after year. “Come hither, come...

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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...

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There once was a hobo that lived by the tracks Never age a full meal, just ate lots of snacks He rode in a boxcar most everywhere he went And traveled for free, didn’t spent a cent He had a name most think sounds quite silly Friends and foes called him Boxcar Willy He made a friend, his name was Larry Only...

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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...

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A tale with no road maps, no signposts, or mile posts. Snowstorms stench of winter's busy breath; dagger dances; ...

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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...

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Sitting here watching the rails fall There are too many that are so tall It maybe for the best that the young riders stay at the mall Since there is no law for fences to be as big as a wall I asked the Captain Why is this happening We don’t know he replied It...

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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...

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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...

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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?...

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PARALLEL ARE THE RAILS (PRE-VERSE 1) Feeling all alone Cast away like a stone Few friends what I got True friends can’t be bought. (VERSE 1) Living is a joke Think I’m about to choke. Lookin’ at you Lookin’ at me Mirror is true (but the reflection is cracked) False truths won’t set you free. (Pre-Chorus) I got my time I got my rhyme Beggin’ for a dime Beggin’ for your...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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Forest fairies changing colors, autumn's patchwork pattern weaving in the foggy morning stillness before winter's barren grieving, up the river on the damp air, up hollows through the shadowed vales sounds the mournful, sobbing whistle: once more memory rides the rails. Childhood song for railroad watchers - a tinge of hobo in my veins, longing for the lonesome whistle like a lost child for his name. Life...

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