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undefined May 23
walking through the dark
on the outskirts of Baton Rouge
just me and a bunch of stars
no one else to talk to

the yard is staging cars
expecting a train
gather my gear
trying to   beat   out   the rain...


wind is a howling
roosters start to crow
6-string on my back
bound for a Houston show

I like the early morning
quiet, dark, and cold
watching for that engine
and   tryin ta breath    real    low...


the "CLAP! of thunderous coupling
"SkReeeech," its time ta go
wind, it starts a rushing
this steel     carries       me       on...
You, you had me hooked from the very first, the very first moment,
Stories of Peter Pan running in my head,
We flew away and had times of the greatest value,
Now here I am, stuck in this tragic place,
Under the ground of a trainstation,
Like the punished soul of that Anna you missed,
A russian girl you'll never forget.

You, you had me hooked from the very beginning,
Our eyes met only for a short recognition,
Only then I knew who she was to you
And what I meant all along.
shipwrecked Nov 2020
i've been jumping in front of trains lately

asking myself if it's really worth the risk

the way a skydiver looks at the ground miles away and wonders if today is the day it doesn't work out

while you're halfway across the country by now, leaving this all behind

i've been jumping in front of trains lately

wondering what the hell it will take for you to see the pain you left inside me

if I could just find the right thing to prove to you that I'm dying

maybe then you'd come back home
11/12/20 | 2:47pm
Waiting for the trains.
Waiting for the feelings.
Waiting for that, rush.
And something new.
Such dark nights,
I can't see,
But I still keep waiting
For the trains and the feelings
I'm still waiting
M C Oct 2020
Rickity-tickity-clak. Onomatopoeia for a bygone age.
Soon the distinct, sometimes irritating/sometimes soothing signals
of a box sailing along a track will be stuck in the past.
A vintage sound.
Isabella Howard Sep 2020
Trains pass by
Hiding bombs
Waiting to kiss the sky
Of the blue hours
I've been drowning in.

Another pill passing lips
From broken fingertips.
I wonder why my hands died
Before the rest of me could.

Empty monsters
Fill up attics
With my dead friends.

They walk past

Poems

Laughter and

Love

Just as empty by the end
As they were at the start.

So far
Nobody good
Has mentioned
My dead hands.

The drunken ghosts
Whispering to walls
Still blame me
For your death.

And my beauty is blurred
By my dead hands.
And my chest is bruised
By your young death.

And my glass philosophy
Has begun to shatter
Under the light
Of the blue hours
I've been drowning in.
A more abstract poem inspired by my words page.
Isabella Howard Sep 2020
I've stopped chasing trains
Everywhere I go.

I've stopped downing darkness
to deal with my own.

I've started drowning death
In everything good.


My car has forgotten
what it's like going over 75.
It doesn't wonder what every drop from every bridge will feel like.

I don't wonder how far I can go
before money runs out and gas gets low.
How far I can run before anyone will know.


I've stopped chasing trains
Everywhere I go.

I've stopped downing darkness
to deal with my own.

I've started drowning death
In everything good.

I've started drowning death
In you.
Aneesh H Aug 2020
Memories of a railroad era, bygone,
Nearly seven score years ago
Stories carried on the wheels,
With the coal and grain to go

A saga of the rail,
Now and again told
The charm of this tale,
Never growing old

Of modernity and mystery,
A kaleidoscopic visage:
An ensemble of hope and history,
A treasured, eclectic heritage

The railfan’s fervor: in full galore
In silent splendor, the glories of yore
In this humble house, come awake
A radiant reminiscence evokes!
Recently, a Railway Heritage Museum was opened at Hubballi, Karnataka: the HeadQuarters of South Western Railway. Hubballi or Hubli is a twincity of Dharwad, the erstwhile HeadQuarters Office of Southern Mahratta Railway, which was a private Railway Company founded in 1880s during British Colonial Rule.
I wrote a poem for the Museum, which is framed as a permanent exhibit on the Museum Wall!
Simone Gabrielli Mar 2020
Take me to the train station
To the moonlit tracks
With waves upon the rails
And spitfire cracks
Let me rest among the passengers
In their blue, tired seats
Spun by frayed end threads
Wilted in the streets
Take me past foreign, foggy neon signs
To the western, wild call
When the whistle bends into the wind
I’ll know I’ve seen it all
Amanda Hawkins May 2020
we take the same train everyday
I don’t know your name nor where you come from
what a joy is to see your face once more before we part ways again
but the moment the train moves
the rumble of my heart lead the way
stead fast, the scenery of steeping in Front of emotion
track after track
winding and twisting with nothing to block the way
the express route to desire
your astonishing beauty
Is my favorite stop
love at first sight
I wish I could've told you how I felt
I wish I could've held your hands
before alighting the train
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