The Tracks of Forlorn
The gravel is new, freshly laid,
The boundaries bordered by fences we've made,
Walking along in my tarseled feet,
In the dark of the night and midsummer's heat,
I look at the tracks and feel the horn,
The world at my back and all of their scorn.
The train passes by on ridges of steel,
Shaking the ground and all I feel.
It rolls along as the ground surely shakes,
The peace is shattered as my mind itself quakes.
Stress of the mind feels like torrents of sin,
As the wind rushes by pushed from the lead engine.
Memories flash by as trains eat up steel,
Running through mind like an old movie reel.
I've lived and I've loved, but memories are torn,
Like the train of my mind on tracks of forlorn.
I've stood and I've felt,
Pondering now the cards I'd been dealt,
In the dead of the night and train's aftermath,
The silence is deaf'ning on the cold gravel path.
-Debra
Deep within the twinkling
clouds lies Toylandia, a
magical island where toys
come alive.
Teddy bears wear tiny
golden crowns and dance
with beautiful, glittering fairy
dolls.
Toy trains chug along tracks
made of rainbow strawberry
licorice, blowing bubbles into
the blueberry sky.
Every morning, colorful
plastic blocks build
themselves into magnificent,
soaring castles.
Friendly dinosaur toys gently
carry smiling children across
rivers of sweet chocolate milk.
The trees are made of green
cotton candy, sprouting shiny
marbles and bouncy balls.
At night, soft wind- up music
boxes play a gentle, soothing
lullaby to the stars.
No batteries are ever needed
here, for pure imagination
powers the whole land.
The toys gather around a
warm campfire, sharing
happy stories and eating
marshmallow clouds.
It is a wonderful place of
endless playtime, where the
fun never, ever stops.
In the heart of Windsor, the sound of a train echoes softly.
Connecting lives on graceful journeys yet to unfold.
As the tracks hum, filled with joy, everyone rushes to catch the Windsor train.
Fast and sleek, it glides proudly through the town,
A true bond of steel, where hope and happiness are found on this wonderful ride.
Oh, Windsor train station, how deeply we cherish you!
Having their own existence
Though not really a thing
But a way cleared of things
Constituting a means to fall sideways
Beckoning horizontal gravity
Proposing purpose, pointless promise
Lots beguiling by sweet sticky
Olfactory wipings
Subject pushes like a fooled particle
Discovering networks
From an inside perspective
Looking like tubes.
From outside, arachnoid;
The infinite trap
Divine vision of spider
At the universe's centre.
What you see, you get.
snowy trail. paw prints;
freshly impressed, substantial-
cat territory.
* 'A Fall or Winter Nature Haiku' Poetry Contest
* Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
* Entered on: 11/11/2025
Long sleeves hide
long numbed nights.
Thin is the skin
of her world,
needlework scores
a secret embroidery.
Tattoos of despair
on arms and feet.
Once she was,
now she is almost a not.
Bloodroots,
blood clots,
blue tracks
these are her blood lines now,
lines that will lead her
ever further away
into empty dreams.
Will she save herself?
A question mark
swells unanswered in her veins.
i need to know what's going on
we're barren over here, yet over there
look at them smugly reading the NEWS
'can you throw one over pal?'
he pretends not to hear me
and looks down the platform
he's pretending to see if his train is about to
arrive, thomas and friends, and it won't be
here soon, so wind it in
i give up and wonder why
platform 1, surely the pinnacle,
has been abandoned of any recreation
although next to my son
is a miniscule glass bottle of whisky
which implies someone was having fun without me there
has peace been achieved?
has the new plastic waste initiative justified government intervention?
how many wickets do we need this morning?
i yell these at the man over on platform 2
i am then taken away
and hope to be a headline in the morning
Belief only comforts the fool
wondering is a tool
Everybody's going round in
cycles
never settling down
with someone
They are at once all lye
and drowned
ringing for a chance
penchantly they rob
themselves of honour
digging a hole
to cover their tracks
My fake confidence
Could surely kill you,
Large and colossal,
A giant in its hard shell.
It clings to me,
Armor I didn’t choose,
A brittle shield
That I’ve painted gold.
I see your ego drilling into you,
Spiraling, twisting,
Digging deeper than you know.
There’s no turning back—
You’re tied to the tracks.
The iron bites,
A weight you thought you could carry.
The whistle is blowing,
Echoing through the air,
And the train is in the distance, growing.
Your defiance burns—
Eyes locked on mine,
But I see the cracks
You won’t let show.
And I stand there,
Feet planted,
Hands clenched at my sides.
Do I untie you?
Do I run?
Or do I stay and let the collision come?
Because when the train arrives,
It’s not just you.
My confidence stands too tall,
Too hollow,
To survive the blow.
And when the whistle fades,
What will be left?
Not us—
Only the tracks.
On tracks of fervent dreams, Trump train rolls ahead
Banners flying high, carries hopes widespread
Through valleys deep, mountains tall, it's a loud, united cheer
Forging our path, with no room left for fear
© daniel miltz
Woke up with a roar,
bengal tracks pepper the sky;
Unleash your beastie.
Allow me to introduce myself,
friends tend to call me Saturn’s MelRose;
Once you read me? I stay off the shelf;
I run around in a sweet saucer
all decked out in salmon pink and green;
It runs on the smoothest ice water;
Vast emerald and rose trails take wing,
my reputation always proceeds;
Ship arrival’s got music blasting;
Spicy taste like Taco Temptations,
I’ll share mouthwatering bliss with you;
A vibe of flavorful explosions;
Life’s a tour bus for me everyday,
spinning parties everywhere I go;
You’ll feel it as soon as I press play;
Floating in on a sick rhythmic beat,
I flutter into invisible;
Flick that switch on, hit it off, repeat;
We’ll do this all night if you want to,
those who built me forgot a slow move;
It is all or nothing just for you;
Flooding wood with cosmic ascension
glitter bombs and sick lines hit the floor;
All your senses give way to passion;
My life’s devoted to a mirror
showing you what you’re capable of;
By track’s end you’ll be a believer;
High fever demands that you return;
On my slick turntables the motto
is ‘For all you girls filled with fire? Burn.’
You come to me, palpable,
The way a candle flickers
When the air is stirred,
A vague mirage, a sense
Of metaphysical existence
But here, nevertheless,
A wondering sensation one never forgets
More than just a curiosity
A part of me rises to you,
Relinquishes itself to your fond greeting
Almost forgetting that it wants
What it doesn’t want –
Something sweeter I once knew
That lingers with an elemental truth
Beneath the lid of observation;
Something tender that I feel,
A momentary remembrance
Less melancholy than wistful,
A taste of which before I kneel
And then you go, are gone,
Except the substance of your memory
A lingering imprint –
Proof enough, I know
Like bear tracks in the snow
Stalking every dream
calling me from sleep
A Yeti of the frozen night
I drove the pitons deep
Climbing over hope
belaying every wish
The tracks it leaves — perdition bound
to wander in the mist
(Haverford Pennsylvania: May, 2024)
Train bypassing just over the rivers bend
Sturdiest and unpromising of bridges, carry my feet along your lumber
Steal away the time I should be an honorable member of society
Keep me as your own and offer me company as you do the passing trains
Just before the sunrise do your wood beams greet the world, before those of the sun can
Eerily so do your shadows beautifully haunt weary folk in moonlight
But I stand unafraid and I walk along you, most enchanting bridge of pure delight
Outstretched arms and heightened ground consume my presence
Perhaps I will greet the river below, blow a cherished kiss
And dream of flowing with her as the fish flow by and by
Greeting all the places along the way I've yet to see
Scheming of making way to connecting streams and many the woodsy place
It is solely me now, guided under constellations and starlight
One with nature you could say, and so then I am not alone
I have met the river and jumped aboard, no more dreaming now
Souring like a bird through endless currents of this waterway's love
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