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usus Aug 20
Clouds are bright
Railtrack’s beaming with light
Sky’s high
Winds are mine

I just wanted to get on the train,
any train.
Where was it heading?
Doesn’t matter really

I very nearly did it lol
Imagine your life as a train –
Endless road and no more unbearable pain.
Now you are passenger, put troubles behind,
That actually twist your brilliant mind.

Landscape by landscape, sunset by sunset,
“Freedom is here!” you cheerfully said.
Others might think you must be insane
“How dare he exist unlike a last soul in the rain?”

Stay focused and do not be absorbed
By spoiled people whose troubles were not even solved.
Take reality easy, follow these words,
Now they are would be my final chords.
A poem about one person that faced reality and finally gained the freedom.
Johnny Feb 1
I like the world.

I like my house, my neighborhood, the streets, the shops, the buildings, the people, the voices, the cars, the trainstation, the railway,
Connor Dec 2018
Once mingled,
free-floating piano tunes
and
sun-harshed highway
could be a match.
The Light Rail
took its time on the causeway,
I am a passenger,
safely guarded from the
unapologetic summerness
like tourists from the safari park.
I am a outrageous punk,
perching onto handrails
lost in his romantic dream of an
impossible summer. Romeo and Juliet in my hand.
Vehicle garages rusting
along palm trees lined
railway.
This is Yuen Long. This is the outskirts
with gated dogs with feral barks,
this is a compromise between bungalows and nature.
Piano symphonies morphed into
eighties tunes
in the Call Me By Your Name soundtrack album,
and the eighties synths
draws the archived mystics,
out from avenues
that leads to villas similar to those I have sojourned.
And the world as I see it, it is beautiful.
nmo Sep 2017
i'm a speaker
at a railway station
of a foreign country.
people is talking
and sound is bad
but if you concentrate
enough you can hear
my voice through the noise.
Paul Jones Sep 2017
The blackberries on the railway path are ripe.
  The woodland birds are quick to take their share,
while purple fingers pick amongst the hype
  and rabbits hop in the hedgerow somewhere.
A cool wind spirals, rustling fallen leaves,
  carrying distant cries along its way
and bending the amber-tinged tips of trees.
  The sound of summer joys are in decay.
They soften, becoming calmer, quiet,
  like tired eyes in need of time to sleep.
There are some feelings I cannot forget
  and memories I will forever keep.
Meet me along the railway path, my dear,
  to breathe the mellow, autumn atmosphere.
19:00 - 07/09/17
Sonnet - 28 -
Sharon Thomas May 2017
When it rains here once again
I remember the time we clenched hands that monsoon.
And we trailed down that railway track on a cloudy noon
We weren't alone did you know?
In a place unknown to fog and snow
The weather had lost its temper
The train had been blinded enough to lose track.
Who doesn't know it's all a knack!
Derailed, they say.
Before the next I wish they simply care
These are not mere accidents you bare,
But testimonies you claim on a paid fare.
Indian Railways or any other for that matter I say,
When they pass the word 'happy journey'
We simply wish it's not our last.
When it rains once again here,
I remember the time we clenched hands that monsoon.
And I wailed down the railway track on that tragic day,
I do not understand which side to stake.
Or wish for summer once again in my life
Or curse the rails, frames and journeys that shatter.
Shatter! Solely due to human hands that fell short,
short to value the lives that derail.
Lyn Dale Jan 2016
Oh no a heartbreak! The original heartbreak of the world and I must tell everyone, warn them all about the precipice that exists on the other side of love. They’ll never know if I don’t take off my red petticoat and stand on the tracks waving it, calling bird-voice, ‘Watch out!’
[the train gets nearer]
‘Dear People, I, cloistered soul, fear you have been misled regarding the nature of existence. It is in fact PAIN!’
[the train gets nearer]
‘All the golden days are over since my lover left my arms.’
[the train, you know]
‘Heed my words and do not trust…’

The train runs me over.
Arjun Raj Jan 2016
The local, strides through the rotten rails,
Metal to metal, rust to rust
The boggy sways and along with it, the hangers who
Hang in there, not by choice but by the might
Of time, distance, and bills to pay
The feeling is mutual as we stand, sway
Push, pull, and grab on to anything just to balance
Yet the journey never ends
It only begins.
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