Short Rail Poems
Short Rail Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Rail by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Rail by length and keyword.
out-stretch wings
and
stiff
broad sail
gathered
its bearings
what guide
the
red tail hawk
full flight
across the
iron rail
death speeding down the rail
desperate last breaths make appeal
‘stead of a dash to the rescue
speaking volumes
about values
camera flashes for
front page display
An old rail fence lingers by the meadow
Humbled by the toll of seasons spent
Posts erect, still standing at attention
Arms outstretched, embracing that which was
Many years ago
Unyielding, in an otherwise
Unfeeling wintry day.
Meek smilers, head-scarfed. Blizzard- blitzed.
Shine sweet greetings my way.
More of that iced swiping blows up;
Briefly skews the vision:
Two little chubby bullfinches
Perched their low branch upon.
There you sit and hum
Here a rose petal trembles
Resembling a joy
There you write poem
Here the bubbles of tea steam
Your face and eyes gleam
There you do your hair
Here a bloom at the window
A bridge of evening
Here I in my net
Try to see if any mail
Gentle sounds of rail
____________________________
2/1/2017
The moon is over the homeward passage,
the unearthly waters darkly churning
a black wake, as seen from suicide’s rail.
The bridge crosses to distant unknown shores.
Nothing to fear let go and step forward
into the cool air, feel it rush past you
as you float downward into paradise.
The pitch-black sparkling entrance awaits.
The British Rail saying,
'See it, say it, sorted,'
is so annoying
it should be aborted.
Travelers, from abroad,
are befuddled then bemused,
when first by this phrase
their ears are abused.
But the worst is yet to come...
it sounds like, 'Sort it,'
over the tannoy
and must be fixed by he who caught it.
The old rail fence row is jagged and twisting
Between the fields now claimed by nature
Lie fallow the subject of a realtor’s listing,
The old rail fence row is jagged and twisting
As I look over the land my eyes are misting,
I miss the rustic place of my birth, for sure
The old rail fence row is jagged and twisting
Between the fields now claimed by nature.
written December 17, 2021
Incompetent and scared
You’ll get caught
With your fingers
All unprepared
To carve the image
You have made
Say what you know
And never forget
To grow in grace
For you were placed
Here to change
The status quo
Being formal but kind
Will help you pass
The structures set
For your decline
Grab the rail
And hold on
While life sails
Cover your head
Note the haven
And return
With the next tide
Jim hares out of his cottage
into the busy streets.
He has bags clung to his back
and his arms.
In a beautiful yellowish cardigan,
he is clad in
and a rocky pair of boots to fit.
"Where is Jim headed?",
asked Mrs Bishopton.
"He is up to catch a train to Yorkshire",
replied Mr. Wellington.
There at the rail station, Jim sits.
Seated also by the rail side are many others,
waiting impatiently to be conveyed to Yorkshire.