Death Train Poems | Examples
These Death Train poems are examples of Train poems about Death. These are the best examples of Train Death poems written by international poets.
A timeless infinity
Stretches in all directions...
Reaches high
But finds a ceiling,
Reaches low
But finds a floor --
This timelessness is only horizontal
It reaches for the goal
But dissolves it in water
Before it can be grounded
In a surreal place
Of touches and smells
But no sounds, no tastes, no visions...
If I am hearty, then forgive me,
For I do not belong here,
Far from the wind...
For senses, I prefer all the five,
Grounding me in a dun reality
That can always fit
Like an old pair of gloves.
There is no death but failure,
And there is no failure but death.
It starts with a hiss and a screech
as the murder train pulls in at the station
Its cars painted black its windows darkened
by the secrets and sins of every nation
The conductors smile is twisted and cruel
his cold dead eyes collecting his fare
Passengers board with a sense of dread
knowing they soon will be beyond repair
The train lurches forward then moving with speed
barreling through the night without a care
Huddled in their seats the passengers
cower in fear and despair
A ghostly man appears in the dark
whose blood was spilled on this track
He haunts this train for revenge he rides
upon the people who forced his final act
The air is thick with feelings of guilt and shame
as every passenger relives their evil crime
The face of the victim before their minds
till guilt drowns them to their dying time
And when it finally reaches its final stop
theres no escape for the ones aboard
For in their own personal hell they are trapped
forever haunted by the murder trains accord
So beware if you ever see it coming
this train of death that roams the land
For once you board theres no turning back
youll be forever at its command
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.
Fantasy train
It’s night. Central London, the last subway train left Bond Street station.
The train was speeding along with me and a few other passengers.
A so powerful dream in a wonderful fantasy realm took hold of me.
My vigilance and self-control left me. Just sleep and sleep, and dream.
Wonderful landscapes, worlds, women, and intoxicants caused joy in the dream.
I feel a strong twitch and hear a loud shout.’ Sir! This is the last station!’
I woke up. An empty whiskey bottle fell out of my hand and rolled on the floor.
‘Were are we?’ I asked. ‘On Harrow and Wealdstone station.’ Came the answer.
‘From which platform can I go back?’ I asked. ‘From platform two at five o’clock.
It's one o’clock. Night. I bought a bottle of whiskey in a shop. Drink and just drink.
As soon as I lay down on an old bench in the street, I immediately found myself on the train.
On the train again. I continued my dream. Incredible visions, delights, I just live here.
Just here. Only here. Forever. I didn’t wake up anymore. A hearse took me away.
We’re all waiting on the death train
To take us all away
Some will kick and scream
Some will merely say
Where does the death train go to
Is it a journey of despair
The million-dollar question
Nobody really cares
All aboard the death train
The ticket is totally free
The conductor will point to the sign
You won't return at three
The track is never ending
Your life you’ll get to see
The answer you always searched for
Will be revealed right after three
The door is finally opened
The platform sets you free
You see the sign before you
To be or not to be
The answer was the question
The conductor says with glee
All aboard the death train
Stopping just to see
Life's unanswered question
You never got to see
Revealed at the very end
Just as the clock struck three.
on the train to death
he met someone
next to
he's the one who can't kill me
had a book
he was starving
He exchanged bread and it
he ate the bread in an instant
He read and memorized the book
for a long time
after a while
will reach the place of death
and
Their destinies have changed also.
Some daysI feel it's time to move and
live by the sea, especially when the ghosts of
Altoona are haunting me..
Many cities in Pa., so rich in history,
They were hey days in their time.
It's no mystery...
This once-booming railroad town
is still being visited by those now underground..
Home to the infamous Horse Shoe Curve, with
its one-way tunnel that will truly unnerve..
Many unsuspecting drivers attempted to navigate
and met their swift untimely fate...
At 17th Street, a circus train derailed. Again, many
lost their lives as the animals all bailed.
Just like a used tire that manufacturers retread,
some people that die by accident are unaware that they are dead.
Most days I just pray and ask them to kindly move on, for
the ghosts of Altoona, I wave my magic wand.
To honor Harry memory
a much loved and respected poet
He could cast a spell with his clear verse
identifying himself with any sonnet
with first class reviews
No shortage of inspiration
He put into words what most of us can only feel
On the towpath ... between memories and the sea
sand slips out between the fingers
Harry kept his dream alive
(watch, train journeys via You Tube)
a desire to experience Norway by train
pass vast agricultural landscapes
through a rich selection of nature experiences
Sparkling blue rivers and gushing waterfalls
Winding mountain roads, fjords and valleys
Churches from the 17th century
Humble aging farms in places
one would have thinking that no one could live
_____ one day we'll drive this journey together
... you and me ... Harry
R.I.P.
24.05.2023
Anne-Lise Andresen
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Tributes to Harry Horsman
Sponsored by: Andrea Dietrich
1st place in the contest
A train went by in the distance
and I could hear it passing
every few hours or so from the back
bedroom of my grandfather’s house
My room, when mom came home
after she and dad derailed, but the
train out back was always certain to its track....
no burden that I needed to understand.
My room, and commuter’s haven in college,
and mom felt so much better
with me moved back in the house
in case the old man fell.
And when she fell first,
the spill shut down the town
and the Train roared into that long
awake night out in the back.
Still my room when I moved away
with the years, and understood
that home is more of a time
than a place, both slipped
beyond the great reclaim. You
were there once, and I’m sure
the train went by that night but
neither one of us heard the roll.
Years later, my sister and I sold
the house, and I slept the closing
eve in that room out back
the farewell caravan
pealing on by the foot board--
moving on with the moving on,
it’s boxcar back always open
to the hobo---up for a jump.
The Train
Its shine consumes you
So just don’t look
Its taste tantalizes your senses
Its power makes you a crook
You can smoke it in a pipe
You can put in your arm
You’ve now have told yourself
That it never does you harm
Your thoughts are altered
Your soul is scorned
But your high you do not falter
Your spirit never born
You lose your money, you lose your kids
The sad thing is
You really don’t care if you did
There’s never enough
You always want more
So heed my warning
The will make you a whore
Walk away now
So you can dance
Cause death by meth is your only other chance
So, if you ride the meth train you better ride it well
Cause the meth devil I know
Takes you straight to hell.
I am a moving train
On a journey of no destination
Desperate as desperate can be
If you have embarked on this train in error
Resign yourself to fate
For there is no going back
If you are a willing Partaker
In this adventure of desperation
You are welcome to my world
We are in this together
Hold your breath my passengers
And see how far we can go
In this journey there are no stop overs
There are no restrictions
Let it go on
Do whatever you can
While it lasts
It is an adventure that could make you
It could also mar you
cause traveling is dying a little
I see the old train station where it used to come and where it would depart.
There memories untold
Though you cannot see anyone, you know that there are those still there at heart.
Wood is now of mold,
Is an old jail just across, feeling eyes watching you making you want to dart.
The memories seem cold
Of this sad place, where two trains came violently apart.
The stories can't be told
Of what the individuals went through that sad bleak day of old
That the ghosts there still hold
We boarded the soulful train at birth.
We grasp our family will be our vassal.
Both of our parents will starve to death.
No one escorted us toward the gravel.
Our parents will debark from the train later.
Hence we're left alone along this journey.
Sprung people will be joining our tabor.
Family and companions are at life's worry.
Plenty will jump ship, leaving an endless void.
Others vanish so quietly we can't notice.
It'll be a train ride of farewell and fear alloyed
We must maintain a strong host alliance.
We are uncertain of our exit in this mystery.
But should adore, excuse, and utter our aware all.
It's crucial, yet we should abandon our seats empty.
We must improve comely memories for future recall.
If I must be plain
The popularity of a Train
Had begun to wane
And to skyrocket that of Plane
Airports sweeping lots of gain,
With little or no strain:
Billions of dollars in the main;
In case of Nigeria: Naira Rain:
A Lion complete with Kingly mane,
Though Air Disaster their combative bane.
Oh station , station
Yee of intermittent locomotive
thoroughfare
Once standing proud now
sadly scheduled surplus to
moderna
Redundant made it's ticket
booth , collector and so to
it's master
Resigned and destined for
graffiti spray to patch it's
walls
With it's clock battery powered
down
It's fate a clubhouse for tomorrows
youth to wreck and frequent gather
in and under
Smoke and try initial cigarette
plume cough and alcoholic
spirit drunken after shock
hangover
It's track's to be repatriated back
to nature 6 foot overgrown by
scrub , weed and bush
No click no clack no whisper
harking back
Visitation only by means of
historical scholastic dissertation
It's final lesson thus if willing to
accept
Everything once valued once
it has seved it's purpose and
past it's exasperation date
Will in fact so to in future be
cast aside and face this
exact fate
And maybe if nothing else
but for death will be saved from
Seeing all the things we
treasure and keep as memories
most dear
Disappearing before us and
and so to point out
That the light at the end of the
tunnel is fast becoming dimmed
by the milli-second