Best Commuter Train Poems
I wonder what a musician’s life is like
As I notice you nonchalantly carrying your instrument
Much like keeping your voice boxed and in a velvet bag
I look at you and wonder as we sit in the commuter train
Pondering about a musician’s lows and highs
Wondering about your split personality
Like this one here where you sit alone with your switch off
Obviously recharging your batteries
Regenerating as you think of your next gig
I imagine your friends and fans who love to party
I can almost see them around you in a hazy cloud
Yet here you sit alone quiet with your case
Once open I know you’d suddenly come to life
Goodbye then
This is your stop
Goodbye
And I just sit here and continue
Wondering what a musician’s life is like
AP: 1st place 2020, 3rd place 2020
Sam slept through his alarm once again
So dashed to catch the commuter train
But today he is fine
‘Autumn leaves’ block the line
He’s off the hook … his boss can’t complain!
2nd June 2016
hear others out there, just beyond my wall-wrapped sharing space
they break on through, sneaking inside my head
far above, front-nosed pilots point high-flying seated people tubes
passengers squeezed in tight, some feeling dread
as jet engines cloud-buffet, amplifying reverberations
chimney-chambers funnelling their muffled sound
momentary fear spills downward into the peaceful living-room
then gone, soon forgotten, on journeys bound
clank and clang, lift-arm lorries crawling slowly by the gateway
sin bins scooped, coloured cravings half-consumed
cascades of clinking glass crescendo, bottle-bank vomiting noise
rapid cadence, ambient drone resumed
programmed heat, timed with boiler clicks, powering-up, igniting
cold metal creaks around expanding joints
curtains swish, blinds roll open, bleary blinking, homely morning eyes
aural sequencing as the day appoints
distant yowl of hooter horn, duly departing commuter train
car doors slam, abrupt jarring intrusion
gauntlet-running mothers compete with pavement-blocking pupils
fumes linger, safety scarring delusion
radio din, depressing electro-magnetic compression
shovelled earth beside the thin blaring-out
men again dig doggedly, patching patches for the umpteenth time
careless strike, gushing hiss of waterspout
road tyres clip, manholes rattle, drum the brief mid-morning lullaby
rise and fall, the doppler siren speeding
two-wheeled tiny engine buzz, irritating as it nears the ears
loudspeaker hails, vies for votes its pleading
post person presents the parcels, delivering rat-a-tat-tat
cats scurry as scratching dogs lunge and bark
then sudden bang, spread-eagled pigeon, wingspan on window-pane
stunned, fluttering, hoping to reach the park
Distant horns announced the eight am,
commuter train, from Darlington's approach
and as I crossed the bridge, at Traitor's Gate,
I saw some lines were blocked by heavy snow.
As it neared,
I waved my jacket,
but the driver,
never saw it.
He took the bend
and kept proceeding.
Those on board were
praying, screaming,
while the monster lost its way and flewwww.....
Into the frozen lake below!
Silence....
like its shattered icy surface,
pulled tight together.
I had to wait until the sergeant,
jotted down my witness statement.
So, that is why, Dear Miss McGoul,
today, I'm really late for school!
The monks are burning on the street
They are protesting the violence of war
Pain is not part of their protest
Only the pain in the hearts of men who foster war
They will become ashes on the street
And be swept up into the winds of eternity
Where are these universal souls?
How do we contact them?
Are they lying in the streets of Siagon?
Are they blowing in the Saharan winds?
Are they infused into everything we breath?
I want to feel their commitment
Feel their strength.
They came out of their temples
To show us the truth
Not in the palm of a hand
Or in the tea leaves of a cup
But in true human commitment.
I cannot imagine that commitment
I live in the shadow of society
And the pressures of a common man
Work to eat, live to play, pretend to be content
But are any of us truly content?
I look through the yellow windows of a commuter train
Watching the people march down the streets to their lives
And what does it mean?
The bankers and the money men have won
We have become assimilated and numb.
I can’t do it anymore so I put on my robes
I walk outside and sit in my temple of stones
I light the fire and watch it burn
It creeps closer and I try and forget the pain
Mantra, mantra, mantra……..God it hurts
Take my mind from this world
Free my body and my soul
I am joining the living dead.
She seemed oblivious to the smattering of lightly falling rain;
He holding her hand...and as much as his very life should
Depend upon this.
Overhead, a commuter train hastening down the clattering track;
And right there, underneath the bridge, suddenly pulling him back,
She halted and gave him a look that spoke so plain.
It was in that moment, head tilted, leaning over...she then planted
That fatal kiss.
Methinks he would forever more chance the perils of Dantes' Flame...
Even being that it might just be the most desperate of chances
For all things to remain the same.
Once upon a time in a very dark and dreary, creepy, place where the wind was howling through the black trees,
And the branches looked like swords and machetes, I was sitting with my 5 year-old-daughter Susie, if you please.
We were seated in a mini-station-wagon, at a dark and dreary train station waiting for Daddy to arrive on the commuter train, scheduled for 5:03.
If you know me, you know I can be a little impulsive, so on this night, I decided to do something creepy, but what would it be?
Immediately knowing, I turned to my 5-year-old daughter and yelled "BOO!" right in her face, silly 32 year old me.
Susie did not scream. She did not jump. She merely punched me as hard as I have ever been punched in my nose, a bleed.
I was laugh-crying now. Crying because my nose felt like it had been hit by a semi, laughing at my own stupidity.
Susie felt very sorry for me and kept apologizing over and over. I told her not to worry, I deserved it, me being me.
I had a black and blue nose for awhile, but even after
that faded away, I knew that Susie was assertive to a T.
I was so proud of the fact that I had raised a daughter who did not take any idiocy from anyone, including me.
OFF TO SCHOOL
So you're off to boarding school,
It'll be the making of you, my lad,
Muses the bespectacled gentleman,
Sat behind his morning paper,
The commuter train steaming
Its trundling way
Past opened curtains
Of genteel suburbia.
Familiarly hypnotic rhythm
From the clickety-clacking track
Continues, scarcely heeded
By the carriage's motley clientele,
Disturbed from comatose reveries,
Enduring the drilled strains
Of unwelcome conversation.
Hostile eyes look up in
Bristling annoyance
At a shy, enclosed boy,
Who keeps locked-in silence
On his first uncertain foray
Into the strange world beyond
The comfortable boundaries
Of his homely playpen.
Gart Williams has an occupation in New York City.
He works for a very prominent advertising agency.
However, things have not gone well recently.
His boss is one who is not known for patience.
At a meeting, Mr. Mizrow voiced his loquacious vehemence.
It seems relations with the boss went south
when Gart said to him: “Fat boy, why don’t you shut your mouth?”
It could have easily been the end of his career.
Luckily, Mr. Mizrow wished for him to stay around here.
Gart, how did you get into a rut such as this?
He keeps reminding you of a “push, push, push business”.
Perhaps advertising was not the right scenario for you.
A change to a slower and idyllic lifestyle is overdue.
On the commuter train home, in a dream you would see
such a town of your wishes known as “Willoughby”.
You described your dream in detail to wife Jane.
She thought you were lackadaisical and possibly insane.
Well Gart, there is no such stop as Willoughby along the line.
If you attempt of get off there, things will not be too fine.
Sometimes, we would all like to visit a place called Willoughby.
However, you must keep your feet planted in reality.
Based on the Twilight Zone episode "A Stop At Willoughby".
...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.
Ivanka and Melania walking the 5th Avenue Street
Red Wolves stalking their beat
Being ever so sweet
Looking at the window dressing
Critical topics they are addressing
Knowing Daddy Donald will get them a treat
If they make Democrats feel the heat
Riding the hood
Having an image that is goodie good
Long way from the run way
Always having an audience to what they say
Loving her step Mom
In one’s handbag code to the gossip bomb
Staying very calm
Both having fashionable ware
Taking a share
From booking and signing an art deal
Then dining on gourmet meals
It is fourth and goal to go
In the game called ‘who do you know’
Defending the Delaware man from stealing the Oval Office show
Should there be a pass or run
Decision when done
Will energize critics if executed and not won
With the two state General in command
Beachside resorts ready to make a stand
Calling the bluff
To those who claim to have the right stuff
Or showing a hand
Stating “Maybe better to be just a fan”
Stay cool
Little red wolves
Be reminded at the pool
There many of you
Getting their skin red
Staying away from debt
Granted they can get sun burn
Which they would learn
Under the moon light
Romantic in sight
Enjoy the sun and times
Sipping the proper wine
But when the final gun is heard
Bringing calmness to the grid iron stir
Something may occur
High hopes to the mind
Of those making a dime
Riding the All American Acela commuter train
Debating weather it’s going to rain
They are looking out tiny boxes
traveling toward the city from the suburbs
wearing tennis shoes on their tired feet
Many have left their dress shoes at work
Some stop at a gym on the way,
these are the high brows who do not punch in
It is Chicago, nineteen ninety-six
My husband is in one of these jam trains
looking out his tiny box, as trees and cows fly by
Upon arrival, the gritty of the city meets them
Gray concrete is their first welcome mat
They are careful to not fall into the trenches
Some race by, but most march as robots
staying in order until they reach Union Station
People stop being human here
The stores are expensive, so most cannot shop
Their lunch sandwiches are tucked into hot baggies
inside the briefcase they hold onto as they march
a line of unsmiling creatures
who have left their mommy and daddy cap forty miles out
being an employee or an employer, less than human now
The white rabbit had gone rogue as told.
His wife was at home with their child Bold.
Only one child? You are kidding right?
This was amazing for rodents who live in Bright.
White rabbit got more socialized too.
He wore a suit, and a tie fashioned of blue.
Took the commuter train every day to work.
He’s strange others said. His coffee doth perk!
He drinks coffee! This is not what a rabbit does.
This was stated by his cousins Once and Was.
The white rabbit paid no attention to them.
He wore a ring too with an emerald gem.
At Nahal Oz, Hamas hurled a substance weird
It burst into flames, released a gas to be feared
Jews suffocated in minutes, but we don’t know
Who made it, what it was, nothing to show.
At a theater in Moscow, rebels came in
Took the audience hostage, in the cause of Chechin
Russian police made an invisible gas flow
Terrorists were led away, what gas used we don’t know
Tourists describe a chemical they call “devil’s breath”
Makes you a zombie, in some cases causes death
Some Columbians use it, so visitors beware
It may seem underhanded, but crime isn’t fair.
Madman in the commuter train, makes fake phone calls
To warn the commuters of drug aerosols
He says criminals can attack this way, and you wouldn’t know
That you’re a victim, of a gas drug flow.
He says he’s a victim, they got his keys
Then entered his house, easy as a breeze
Affected his behavior, damaged his brain
White coats lead this guy away, but is reality insane?
What you don't know can hurt you, and it gets worse
You can blame natural causes, when your luck hits a reverse
When your health goes bad, when troubles accrue
Now it's possible someone's doing it to you.
Although the name, Tat Tvam Asi, was new to me, the thought and meaning were not unfamiliar.
If I say that I am closed minded, would you judge me and set me apart as one incarcerated?
If I say that I am open minded, would you welcome me, embrace me, accept me as yourself?
If I say that I am both closed and open minded, would you deem me schizophrenic or delusional?
Such were questions posed to one I met on a commuter train who challenged me to a "Rethink".* He was well versed in his belief, calm, poised, relaxed, and offering me a key to meet the real me. He even challenged my life-long belief that mankind needs a restoration because of a separation. He insisted that I reject the need for restoration because there never was a separation from God. We had a long commute of at least an hour, and as I deboarded the train, I was more convinced. More convinced and confident that I was on the right train and the right track at the right time. The right time because I needed someone like the eye-opening gentleman to challenge my faith.
I am reminded of one occasion or encounter I had with people of a much different faith than my own**. At the conclusion of a failed conversion attempt with me, I complemented the gentleman's taste in his attire as a way of saying, "No to your religion, but yes to your dress code".
He seemed startled by my kindness.
With regards to the commute train gentleman, I, with a sense of gratitude, was able to determine with a sense of certainty that I was opened-minded enough to graciously respect and listen to him; and at same time, I was closed-minded enough to say graciously, "Thank you sir, but no thank you".
072521PSCtest, 'Tat Tvam Asi' Contest, Unseeking Seeker *Fictitious story **True story