Station Poems - Poems about Station

This poem is featured on YouTube (The Convergence point with Dr. Ivan Edwards), bringing its words to life through spoken expression. A gas station on the edge of the city, Neon lights buzzing in the night, graffiti scrawled across walls, the hum of distant traffic our backdrop. The place was nothing special,...

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Three women with umbrellas were waiting for this train. To get on or for someone to get off? I am yet to know. I lost track of them after the people disembarked. Looking for my husband, who would not have an umbrella. My umbrella was at home, I was not expecting this dreary night. My man would not be the...

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A woman at the gas station is unremarkable besides her name tag reading Clarity and her teeth, saying never mind. She asks if I need a receipt. I say no, like I'm not collecting evidence in the glovebox of a car that only drives in reverse. The smell of ethanol summons June bugs: last summer, I siphoned moons from my mother's...

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Sticks and stones are physical objects They can be used as a blunt weapon But a lack of encouragement can lead to neglect Which can lead to self harm and bad places we step into It’s demeaning and undermining, it’s a spell unseen Serpent like wave function, words can be deceitful and unclean To call somebody fat and ugly isn’t just...

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STATION MEETING The time has come years depart I slap your stomach You throttle me for my gems I have none my gems are the stars sardines swim towards me chains rattle loose to the children in the Wilderness I flee verse2016 ...

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Midnight in my darkest hour The radio turned to nowhere, n nothing The night is open to static, unknown A vice of something from silence moans Its whispers are lost in the either of night Cold moonlight settles on my floor Its liquid form is translucent and unformed I draw the air of midnight, misty cold Feeling dead stations...

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Dead station of soul, cold a cuneiform of heavenly hosts on a cathode ray tube, born shadows of forgotten sliver gods roam digital tears, a broken modem's wail, fear the hollow shell of the sky, cracking nightshade fingernails fawn lost in the echo chamber waiting for a mechanical dawn ...

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Dead station of soul, static old phantom frequencies crackle n fade wraiths, tuning into the echoes of forgotten dreams, decades channels of fractured memories dust motes dancing in moonlight a language lost to time signs and shadows wax on a dying flame into a twilight rain with the pulse of the divintity of silence and static casting secrets to an empty room, void...

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Imagine if there was a brain station for souls Plug in a rhyme magic would pop out no controls With patience sooner or later Writing thousand word essays And the literary world would begin to explode ...

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Life is a slow moving train with many stations along the way. Some stations will be filled with joy some stations we'll encounter pain. Life's journey is a one way ticket as onwards through life we go. Every station whispers secrets at each stop a dream unfolds. Before we reach our destination they'll be many...

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Joint pourings of nations, All from different nations. Funnel of diversity, Cultures melding in. The station holds the might of nations. Flowing round pillars, Through the gates to the station. Different dress from all the rest. ...

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To all of my loves, I'm nothing but a greying power station. They're not interested in me or my well being I'm not sure if they ever were. They come at me with endless barbed babble have little need for dialogue or advice I'm just a chew toy for their mental mice... when their confusion evolves into a vice They have their smart...

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Turning the pages backward I find pressed flowers in my old diary from the day we saw lavender growing in the woods. The sun was swallowed by clouds that were halfway to a metaphor and you told me the eye color of love was dark hazel, the very depth of my own. In a packet of handwritten letters I find polaroids...

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Our oldest light goes by the name cosmic microwave background radiation— CMB for short. She's everywhere: fluorescent birdsong of modern offices, hum of corner store ice cream cases. Have you heard of her? This gal was born screaming into freedom from the expansion of a bang so big we're still talking about it. Expelled from the...

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An hour dissolves Into endless waiting While buses fading Into grey haze Leave me gazing Through downcast eyes At phantom swirls Of mounting fears That chain my feet From homeward paths Where comfort dwells In memories sweet Of shared times' past Till diesel fumes And echoed calls Fade like ghosts Through station walls -...

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