Short Trestles Poems
Short Trestles Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Trestles by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Trestles by length and keyword.
Tell me that you think I'm Special,
While I'm hog-tied to the trestles
As I await the train to crush my pain-
Too many Demons have I wrestled!
I wail lonely
in your distances
as endless trestles travel I
Know
I was here I was
present
on your horizons,
present in your town
Come, ride with me
Come, keep me
from obsolescence, keep me
alive
Without you
Within me
I am meaningless,
blind
For how can I see, and, yes,
Who can I show,
If not you... if not you... if not you
Rutted twittens, ivy shadowed
flecked with fuchsia blooms
as spring nods gaily
to wake dozy summer
and clattering of feet
on the sparse cobbles
that meander in quaintness
toward sprawling flea markets
where bustle and laughter
of children, echo, larkish
amid the ruddy traders
who grin and joke
behind their wobbly trestles
draped in gingham cloth
that sport a shambles
of vibrant, ancient treasures.
I am three legged,
I am balanced,
It’s a mystery,
I sit in a dim-lit room.
I bear the sage's books,
Where he scripts his thoughts,
The monsters that stare through his window,
The gloom that pervades the meadow.
I am three legged,
The unseen pivots me,
The unknown trestles me,
I'm in a library of the deep.
I am a door into the day,
Prop and support along the way,
The sage takes off on my plane,
Nightfall embraces me.
October 28, 2023.
We walk through the meadow,
In the twilight shadow,
Along nature's way,
We'd see Hope’s ray.
A gentle breeze blows,
It sweeps across the meadow rows,
It still the tempest
that troubles like a pest.
It brings us to a room,
In the ambience of nature's bloom,
Where gloom does not spread its tentacles,
We stand on zen pinnacles.
Nature’s gentle breeze,
No mortal hands can seize,
A treasured gift,
To the souls that it trestles and lift.
May 15, 2023.
I can remember as a child
thinking then, snows were very deep,
that train trestles could touch the sky
and dad stood at least ten feet high.
With little legs standing in snow
Like twin stalagmites stacked and cold
certainly seemed deep, in my eyes.
Same could be said for train trestles;
Standing beneath them looking up,
It wasn’t hard to imagine
them touching that enormous sky.
Today standing somewhat stooped,
my octogenarian dad
remains that giant in my eyes.