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therese-tellePoems
I travel trough the heavy rain I sit lonesome on a lonely train I play blues These days are grey,  these nights  are blue my mind keeps coming back to you I play the blues I travel with desire Past houses lit on fire I play jazz Windows lit by sundown My train-seat old and rundown I play jazz Rainbow roads in colored blurr Pretty little towns I'm sure I play swing Past mirror waves and open sky My stomach tingles, wonder why I Play swing ***** feet on ***** train Skin so white I see my veins I play punk Impatient taps and flickering lights Soon the day will turn to night I play punk Head in the clouds, mind at ease Longing for the morning breeze I play Pink Floyd Memories hanging from branches Passengers sharing brief glances I play Pink Floyd I'm coming home, I'm on my way, but I travel still... I travel not by force... yet not by will Music of choise as soundtrack to the silent film beyond the windowsill
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May 30, 2017
May 30, 2017 at 9:56 AM UTC
Train ride to nowhere
I travel trough the heavy rain I sit lonesome on a lonely train I play blues These days are grey,  these nights  are blue my mind keeps coming back to you I play the blues I travel with desire Past houses lit on fire I play jazz Windows lit by sundown My train-seat old and rundown I play jazz Rainbow roads in colored blurr Pretty little towns I'm sure I play swing Past mirror waves and open sky My stomach tingles, wonder why I Play swing ***** feet on ***** train Skin so white I see my veins I play punk Impatient taps and flickering lights Soon the day will turn to night I play punk Head in the clouds, mind at ease Longing for the morning breeze I play Pink Floyd Memories hanging from branches Passengers sharing brief glances I play Pink Floyd I'm coming home, I'm on my way, but I travel still... I travel not by force... yet not by will Music of choise as soundtrack to the silent film beyond the windowsill
I wrote this as a little homage to my lonesome travels. I fittingly wrote it on a train during sundown, but it's about my memories as a homeless teenager with no idea what I wanted to do or where I wanted to go, just that I wanted to go somewhere and do something. It's also about that longing for someone I hadn't yet met, that empty space reserved for someone you know you'll eventuelly meet. Luckily, this time I was on my way home to that someone. I imagine this poem as lyrics to a jazzy tune. Maybe I'll get to try it out one day. I'm no great singer, but I'm reserving space for a trumpet solo in there somewhere.
#music#soundtrack#blues#jazz#swing#punk#pinkfloyd#ryhme#lyrics#song#travel
therese-telle
Written by
therese-telle
F
May 30, 2017
May 30, 2017 at 9:56 AM UTC
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