Trams Poems

A Song of Heavy Trains

A black child knows the song of heavy trains,
as clanging engines brought my father home.
His weary, sweaty, fat thighs bearing strain,
from cooking pots of food for those well-known.
 
We felt the forceful song of heavy trains,
not rails or trams that ride below the street.
A move that in your gut of gut does reign,
black power that comes up beneath your feet.

Our past has known the song of steel on steel
as trains have carried tired heads held high.
When we approached we heard the air brakes squeal,
and at that sound we thought our hopes were nigh.

We've listened for the song of trains for years.
Their mournful horns just croon a memory,
and often resurrect the blues of tears,
or flash across the mind as reverie.

For many years we've sang the sad refrain,
with strength and power striving in the soul.
This melody of freedom laced with pain.
The weight of all life's longings taking toll. 

Oh, sing a song of praise for those who bare
the weight of heavy trains within our past,
a rocking to and 'fro' from here to there,
maintaining in our spirits       WILL to last.

Butterfly Soup

Butterfly Soup


I've eaten mussels
eaten clams
chewed on meat
with ancient man
drowned in chocolate
ice-cream scoops
but nothing compares
to butterfly soup

I've taken drugs 
in Amsterdam
been run over
by their trams
spent seven cold nights
in an old chicken coop
but nothing lives up
to a butterfly soup

I'm the first man 
on the moon
the only caveman
to use a spoon
an acrobatic
loop the loop
but nothing excites
like a butterfly soup

You won't get far
with foie de gras
nor eating olives
at the bar
one thing to rely on
in your old age stoop
is a colourful bowl
of butterfly soup

The Isle of Man, My Forever Home

I feel so proud when I see our national flag raised
and sing our Anthem ‘Oh land of our birth’
This island is not the place where I was born
but there’s no place on earth I’d rather be
with mountains and hills, a patchwork of fields
and the ocean which caresses our shores
I love eating Manx kippers, see cats with no tails
view the famous TT  races, and ride horse trams on rails
We do not bow down to ’the Adjacent Isle’
that’s how England is known to the Manx
Our Tynwald parliament's made laws for over 600 years
Elizabeth’s our Sovereign and long may she reign
I’m not Manx but the Island’s my forever home 
and my final resting place overlooks the blue sea


Whitman-Inspired Uplifting Poetry, old or new Poetry Contest

Sponsored by Carolyn Devonshire

1/6/20

Uithoorn Straat 45

Amsterdam vibrant with
Bells of red trams and blue bikes
Canals sparkling night lights 
Delft facades rising tall and slim in misty air
Energy of never sleeping coffeeshops of laissez-faire life 


First Place Winner: Sara Kendrick-Let's Do Some Alphabet/1010/17

The Railway

Vertically they have gone to see the horizon
dividing into two parallel paths of iron and stone
nor to return or to encounter
sometimes, only crease cross
to pass trains and trams with passengers and goods
ever absurd they are;

On both the sides
modern civilization exists
mills, factories, industries, markets and localities are 
in high rising skyscrapers, fashionable, colorful buildings
lines after lines vertically, horizontally
and underwardly growers they are;

Here and there wide and long hollow down bridges
over ponds, lakes, channels, rivers even seas
where ply boats, launches all the times,
sometimes through long tunnel
goes through hills, desert and channel
challenging explorers they are;

I have walked for long and long, faced long quarry
only iron and stone all through the journey
no pearls, diamond or ivory,
i have heard fierce, painful crying
but seen no tiger or lion roaring
absurd history makers they are;

I have seen cutting, burning, clearing forests
filling lakes, dishes, rivers,
leveling hills, killing wilds
for paving the paths of iron and stone,
for ever growing silver civilization 
innumerable stations setters they are.

Miners Tale With Audio

day in the life of a coal miner 

in the darkness you hear them
their boots clumping along the cobbled stones
not dawn yet ...yet still they are on their way to work
young lads of 15 plus.

these are miners sons
following the traditions
each generation go down the pit
twelve long hours
twelve hours in the dark and dust
twelve hours shovelling the coal
hewn by their elders.

horses are used to pull the trams along
eight hours they work....
young lads work longer.
their little food tins....tiny tins..
a chunk of bread if lucky a dripping sandwich
a bottle of water completed the feast.

they stumble on that cobbled road to home
tired and weary, hopefully a hot bath awaits them
in front of the fire.
nearly too tired to eat the meagre food set out
falling asleep dreaming of sunshine and fun
reality such a different story.


penned 18 May 2016

Audio Below

The Isle of Man

by Robert (Bob) Moore © 2015

I loved to go camping in the Isle of Man, 
Steam Packet leaving Liverpool at 12 am
arriving at Douglas at 6 in the morning, 
see the Douglas Horse Drawn Tram, just as the day was dawning

coming down the Promenade, as the boat arrived
Picking up the people, it was great to be alive
We used to camp on Onchan Head, with a view of Douglas Bay
We’d pitch our tents, and set up camp, and then be on our way

down the Douglas Promenade, it was time for us to play
Sit on the beach in deckchairs, check the girls as they walked by
Jump on and off the Horse Drawn Trams, I can’t remember why
then at night time go to dances, the days just seemed to fly

two weeks without a worry, 14 days without a care
Drinking beer and whisky shorts with the Scots who gathered there
Then holiday time was over, we had to go back home
strike camp, and clear the area, till next time we could roam

Say goodbye to friends we’d made, then catch the Packet back
heading home to Manchester, and get our life on track

The Cock and Bull

The Cock and Bull in darkened street,
and the lintel like mahogany.
I liked the way the corner turned
and did this so abruptly.

I liked the shutters closed for night -
they were really quite appealing,
and never in the darkness grown
would you know that they were peeling.

The tram rails were in front of me
and darkened trams were moving,
and eventually I got on one
and left Bordeaux behind me.





1/13/216

Lifting Tram Rails In 1940

Lifting tram rails in 1940,
he was aware of the Louvre...
was aware of a cameraman.
Now we see a black and white world,
where leaves on trees have shed their green,
and the sky is a wish-washy grey...

We see the tram rails piled untidily,
and a bicycle boy on right
fearing he'll be late for school.
We see his and rail man's Paris of 1940
with years ahead of war in Europe,
and now bereft of trams.


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7/10/2015

Contest - Open Poetry

Sponsor - Charlotte Puddifoot

4th place win

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Featured poem for week of Sunday, 14th February, 2016.

Protection But Provocation

Protection but provocation
Is unfair this attitude 
This provocative protection 
I wonder if is written on the forehead
That dark skin colours
Could steal you any time 
You come across them 

Is unfair this attitude 
Hiding your wallet 
Holding your pockets
Shifting afar
Just because you saw a dark person
Close to you 
Wonder if is written thief 
On our forehead
As same I wonder
Who thought you so

Is unfair this attitude 
I see out of Africa 
In the street bus trams
Shopping morns
This attitude is so not normal
What make dark people 
Thieves 
Must every dark soul you 
Come across steal from you
How is it possible this acts
Of yours 
So provocative 

Is unfair this attitude 
Anyone can steal anyone
And kindness is better 
Than perceive instants judgement
Protect yourself yes
But when necessary 
From an experience 
I pen this write 
Just to let know is so 
Unfair this attitude of
Protection but provocation

Electricity Acrostic

ELECTRICITY

Edison has spoiled us past the point of no return
Lights around the world all cause the city life to burn
Every child becomes addicted to computer fun
Computers make them stick to chairs so they forget to run
Trams all are electric now and shuttle to and fro
Radios and music in a headphone as we go
Cannot stand the silence that enhances every night
If we see the darkness we are all caught up in fright
Tonight just try to go without your plug ins for an hour
You'll be among the few to know the the true electric power.

1/27/13  Victoria Anderson-Throop ©

Stuck In the Arch

There are few better-known national landmarks as this.
Here is the famous Gateway Arch in St. Louis.
Each year, this is something many tourists come to see.
It is the most prominent sight in this Midwest City.
This seems like a good place to spend a summer Saturday.
There are free concerts and a nighttime fireworks display.

What a lousy day to visit a place I would choose.
The trams on their way to the top must have blown a fuse.
These things have stopped moving.  I am stuck about halfway.
Some folks wonder if they will ever get out today.
It is quite uncomfortable as the air is stifling.
We know what summer is like without air conditioning.
With nowhere to go, and nothing to do,
I can only patiently wait this episode through.

However, among the other passengers riding along,
I see a young female with blonde hair that is long.
She appears too beautiful for a woman to exist.
With such heavenly looks, she is difficult to resist.
There is nobody else with her in the tram today.
Looking at her makes me want to get up and say:
“Hello there young lady with the beautiful face,
how about a cup of coffee after we leave this place?”

Palindrome Quirks

Palindrome Quirks

Gateman, has thou seen my nametag
Tips he replied or else upon thy boot I shall spit
Evil doer! Can I not but endure this shame to live

Was it thy dog upon yonder grass I saw?
Rats! Rover has been seen by the clear night’s star
God! Why did I ever get a dog?
Swap thy canine for a bird with no paws

Reviled unto myself I must now deliver
Repaid in full by this dirty diaper
Lived, thou has not until thou hast smelled the devil

Pots with gangly growth have but stop
Spot has urinated upon its tops
Smart would it be for it to leave upon the trams
Warts his master has from the pissed on straw

Adaven, now a ghost town located in Nevada
Stressed were the miners when Millie severed no desserts

By Mark A. Goodson

Semordnilap Palindrome’s:
Gateman/nametag
Tips/spit
Evil/live

Was/saw
Rats/star
God/dog
Swap/paws

Reviled/deliver
Repaid/diaper
Lived/devil

Pots/stop
Smart/trams
Warts/straw

Adaven/Nevada
Stressed/ desserts

Fetter

I say: "Good morning everyone",
Turn on the light. The morning sun
Will never choose to greet this place
Of greed-trapped minds and sheer disgrace.
Some beer into inner space
To sink reality for instance
Is just the way of my resistance
Within this suffocating maze.

The fussy crowds in hurrying trams,
The same old streets, the traffic jams
Are too disgusting for my eyes -
They seek lush colors of surprise.
My heart's a rose yet to bloom,
And all it needs is Heaven's cater,
But I will never break the fetter
Of northern winds and autumn gloom.

The Boardwalk

The Boardwalk

Whistles, jeers
Unrelenting young men
Ladies in swimsuits sigh while passing by

Screams from the Wild Mouse
Creaking ominously against summer skies
What happens if it fails to make that turn?

Spinning wheels, colorful trophies
“Step right up and try your luck!”
“Come on, Dad, it’s just a buck.”

Children’s laughter
Fun House draws a youthful audience
Mom and Dad slurp snow cones outside

Buzzing overhead
Plane with trailer invites diners:
“Sample succulent fare at Oyster Pad”

Honking trams
Make room for commuters
Who heckle pedestrians

Pounding surf
Lovers entwine beneath the wooden planks
Whispering promises of eternal affection

Cooing pigeons
Stalk the waffle stand
Wings flutter when bounty’s found

Yawning toddlers
Mothers cradle in their arms
Dads wearily tote huge, stuffed bears


* for the Sounds of Summer challenge

• Short Trams Poems
• Famous Trams Poems
• Best Trams Poems
• Read Trams Poems
• Long Trams Poems
• Trams Quotes