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Kenechukwu Mar 2020
I rest my head on the window and watch
overhead electrical wires dance.
My overpacked bag nestles between my ankles
while the window's vibrations massage my scalp
into a tranquil numbness.

For a moment, my thoughts exist in an uncommon serenity
in which they follow only the oscillating dance of the wires above

Merge and then separate
Merge…separate

I find calm
seeing the world
as a singular continuous blur
passing me by.
It makes more sense
than any destination.

And the view from this train window defines life
beautifully, in a manner ever so concise.

“A constant journey between destinations with imprecise vision in between”
Nimisha Chauhan Feb 2020
Mountain top,
Riverside dreams,
Leaving behind
Places, people
As they blur through
Passing by
On a journey.
will Feb 2020
The screen flashing red
blinking menacingly
I wait by the yellow line

the trains aren't running
but it's cold outside
and darkness is creeping

there is a man watching me
as I shuffle in fear now
his face is obscured in shadow
Daniel Feb 2020
My hands over handles and the studded upholstery
Reflective and cold as the strangers come close to me

Swaying like passengers stood on a boat
I'm fleetingly heartened by the accents I know

Picking them out of the bullying crowds
We're hurrying past unfamiliar towns

The streetcorners, bridges and shops that they know
Serenely suffused by a summery glow

The picturesque places they lazily go,
like postcards or paintings delivered back home

I'm rolling on by their entire other lives
Their lot on my mind and to them unbeknownst

Like a rousing of wind which as suddenly goes
For a moment we had almost been close
mr moon man Feb 2020
I look at the friends I made in my life and come to realize how time has changed us, Some of us would be proud of who we've become while others would've never expected the path they took. We've all grown to see each other as a family of sorts, but only I have noticed the clock ticking away at the corner of my eye. Day after day, the clock becomes louder until I realize that the clock is a signal, and that signal is when I'm supposed to catch the last train home
this is a little poem I made about my friend group at school and how, over the three years we've hung out and grown, started to grow apart to follow our own paths.
Pagan Paul Jan 2020
.
The goods trains roll on by,
passing my window at night
and I wonder, wonder,
where are you going to?
May I come?
May I lay back slowly
and let you take me somewhere?
Anywhere.
Anywhere but now.
For here I lay
counting the rhythmic pulses
of iron wheels on iron rails.
As goods trains roll on by.

I need to feel in my bones
these rhythmic pulses
like temperate rain on tin roofs
soothing the beat of a heart.
I want to go and to expand,
to flow through the world
at an even metronomic pace,
to find a place of balance.

And my inner eye like a clipper
sails into the void of dreams,
yet, somehow, more real to me
as I watch myself explore.
Teasing out the dark corners,
bringing light to their inherent terrors
and exposing myself to fears.
But who's fears?

Individual pieces or the whole puzzle?
Pieces missing, the puzzle incomplete.
Its hidden away in my mind
disjointedly interlocking around holes.

I wrote about my sanctuary.
A special garden in a special forest,
providing me with safety
for when the holes become to large.
To this retreat I speed
when the sensory input overloads,
blows a fuse or severs a link
to the circuit of attachment
and fractures the edges of the puzzle,
scattering the composite pieces.
The further dislocation of logic
as I sit in my sanctuary and weep.

And through tears I can see
light flooding in to me,
the blush of morning sky
as goods trains roll on by.



© Pagan Paul (30/01/20)
.
George Grenfell Jan 2020
The platform is quiet when I arrive.
The walk home is long.

The road is busy with lights, but no faces.
I should have worn gloves.

Nearly there now.
Someone's home but nobody was waiting.

I pull a smile out my pocket and drop my keys,
Then I listen to words about the day.

My bed brings solitude,
While questions crawl behind my eyes.

Scraping inside my skull, they're familiar,
And I drift off on their backs.
Eitten S Jan 2020
The girl looked out the window and watched the world go by.
The train kept laboring as she watched the world go by.
~~chug chug chug chug chug chug~~
She lifted her hand to the window.
She felt the cool surface and spread her hand on it.
She closed her eyes and remembered…

Once upon a time…
Not long ago,
She had been innocent, without a care in the world.
Little did that little one know
What would unfold

She came back with a gasp as a tear slid down her cheek.
She felt the vibration as the train toiled on.
~~chug chug chug chug chug chug~~
She wiped her cheek with her fingertips and looked at her lap.
She grasped the hem of her dress to keep from shaking
As her gaze wandered to her shoes and she remembered.

Once upon a time…
Not long ago,
She had been in a shop, the best shoe store in town
Hand in hand with her mother and father
Skipping along, innocently

When the memory ended
She quickly looked up and watched a man reading the paper
~~chug chug flip chug chug sip~~
She watched with youthful curiosity and forgot her worries.
Though she knew, when the spell wore off, they would come back.
“Back” she thought as she remembered.

Once upon a time…
Not that long ago
She had been walking, walking through the snow
With her mother and father in boxes above her head
Lumbering along, numb to the world

This time she laid her head on the window watching the world go by.
She opened her teary eyes and looked at the sky
~~chug (sigh) flip chug (sky) sip~~
She looked at the ceiling of the train car and tried counting sheep
Anything to sleep
Anything to forget
TS Ray Jan 2020
A breakfast on a train,
packed one as you normally find during a rain,
I had company with me of the kind that entertain,
it was an orchestra that will play again and again.

As I was preparing for my next stop,
noticed a new menace that was taking its hop,
landed on businessman’s nose at a hat’s drop,
his face was on fire as he hurt his nose with a plop.

It had whale of a time and a freehand,
not knowing where this demon would go to land,
unsure what the storm outside had planned,
storm in my teacup became the next landing target for it to stand.

With ears like a giraffe,
It gave everyone a good morning laugh,
I had to empty my water carafe,
to catch this strange yodeler flea on everyone’s behalf.
TS. 2020. Humor entry. Hope you like it.
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