train
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I remember when I took a train to the city
Half way through the journey the train stopped along the Hudson.
And just for a moment I looked out on the empty expanse of water
The rippling reflection of the sky
In the slushy shine of winter mornings,
The harsh, huffing breaths of a
Hushed and harried engine heaving
Its hoard of hearts and hopes
Hastens the horizon, rushes
The clicking clack on slickened rails
Here lies the body of Nick O TymeWho never thought of crossing the lineLived his life as quiet as could beOnly stimulant consumed was teaSaved a lady from the path of a train
Sometimes I feel like chicken little
and no one else seems to see
that the sky is falling
and that I’m not strong enough to carry it.
Frantically fighting to get out of the way
First draft of our second poetry assignment for Creative Writing, required to be in some way inspired by John Berryman's Dream Song 14.
Dated: 09/22/2021
You know that train I was talking about?
I think it took a wrong turn
Cuz now i just feel misplaced
Like i don’t belong here
If i jumped on a train
Where would it take me?
How far would I ride it?
Would I be free?
A passenger on its many painted boxcars
My train is always speeding; thundering down the track at full speed.
It heads nowhere in particular.
Whenever it stops to unload a thousand passengers, a thousand more board.
Most are unwelcome.
Sky Fades Away
String are left to decay
Trails end, rails bend
Suddenly time melts away
I was on the train to New Orleans
When I saw a girl that was in my dreams
Before I knew it I darted towards her like a train.
Barreling toward her fast as I could.
Inhaling deep, releasing deep huff.
The rumble of what came to be manifested before I was seen.
Once upon a time,
when life was a dream
and life was on the line,
with a train losing steam,
being lost wasn't fine, yelling "I don't know what's mine"
rather lose track than lose my mind,
How do you sleep with so much in your head
like a train circulating a mountain, full speed
it's hard for you to go to bed
like a victim fighting to be freed
my mind gives me no peace
Chug-a, chug-a, chug-a, chug
You fall behind, you're out of luck.
Brute mechanisms all in place
to stay on track & win the race,
They work in time and go in sync
so you'll go far, or so you think.
They lined the station like tchotchkes placed in careful disarray,
Here between F and 13th,
Red cheeked and frosted breath,
Bare porcelain angels waiting on the shelf of a Goodwill.
If my heart were a train
I wouldn't call her Thomas
Thomas was plucky and steady
And she feels like the shakiest thing about me.
If I'm lucky
She's on the tracks this week
Would a filter be typing?
Would a filter mean no erasing?
Does that mean I can't correct my grammar?
I'm going to give you the realest me there is, no bullsh*t.
Well, to begin, my appearance.
I.
in Appleton, Wisconsin, there is a boy named Cael
who dreams of Copenhagen and draws demonic flamingo.
his spine is curled the wrong way from countless years of binding.
She sits on a train, trapped, without power,
Reaching speeds of one hundred miles an hour.
Her future a dream, destination untold,
All she knows is she’s stuck, there, on that road.
Trains
Steady and strong, a titanic of force and power
The gears and cogs inside mathematically precise
Oh how marvelous a machine!
The earth trembles as it approaches
"I would see you fail
Before I'd let us both
succeed,"
Thought one line of track
To the other,
As the train was derailed.
Each car passes
slower and slower
linked in a tangle of iron
and motion.
I could reach out and
touch it.
There are words painted in bright colors
on the sides of each car,
