"railways" poems
Many people write a "bucket list" of things they want to do before they die. Now in my 80th year, I don't have the time or the energy to do things that others might aim for, but I have during my life visited many places, seen many things, and enjoyed many experiences that I would have been sorry to miss. There have also been some events that I would have preferred not to experience, but which have enriched my life in different ways, and which I remember with a kind of sad affection.
Some of these are very personal to me, and would not be interesting to most people, but read the note if you wonder why I chose them.
Here then is what I might call
My Reverse Bucket List
Towns and cities – architecture & atmosphere
Barcelona, Spain
Venice, Italy
Oxford, England
Jerusalem, Israel
Luxor, Egypt
Varanasi, India
Hiroshima, Japan
Pompeii, Italy
Other locations
Galápagos islands, Ecuador
Great Barrier Reef, Australia
North Woolwich, London
Churches
St Paul's Cathedral, London
Sagrada Familia, Barcelona
Coventry Cathedral
Córdoba Cathedral, Spain
Blue Mosque, Istanbul
Other structures
Taj Mahal, Agra
Auschwitz concentration camp, Poland
Royal Festival Hall, London
London underground system (because it was the first, and I rode it for a long time). Also the more splendid underground railways of Mexico City and Moscow.
Avebury Ring, Wiltshire, England (the largest prehistoric stone circle in the world, and much more primitive than Stonehenge)
Bayeux Tapestry
"Angel of the North" statue, Gateshead, England
"Christ the Redeemer" statue, Rio, Brazil
Events
Messiah at Royal Festival Hall, Feb 1959, with the girl later to be my wife
St John's night, Spain, early 1990s (?)
Death and funeral of Diana, Princess of Wales, Aug 1997
Oberammergau passion play, 2010
Destruction of World Trade Centre, Sept 2001
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 9:16 AM UTC
I march to a different drummer
My life it is my own
I'm an explorer of experience
That is how I'm known
I've seen snow in South Dakota
I've been on the Vegas strip
Had barbeque in Kansas
My life has been a trip
I'm a gypsy of the railways
I'm a legend in my time
I move on in a boxcar
Brother... spare a dime?
I've been through all the landlocked states
Five provinces as well
I've seen Niagara Falls all frozen
I've seen it flowing fast as well
I've had margaritas in Key West
And Bourbon in Kentucky
Craft beers out in Oregon
In my life I have been lucky
I travel on my stories
Feed myself with all my tales
I'm an explorer of experience
I'm a gypsy of the rails
I never stick around too long
I don't wear my welcome out
I come and see just what I want
That's what life is all about
I've railroad friends in Texas
Some up in BC too
We've shared drinks in San Diego
And had a great Alaskan brew
I'm not one to live by your rules
I find my rules suit me fine
I'm an explorer of experience
And I'm riding on the lines
You can find me down in Georgia
Or eating spuds in Idaho
I never know just where I'll be
Until my ride begins to go
I'm a gypsy of the railways
I'm a legend in my time
I move on in a boxcar
Brother...spare a dime?
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 12:12 PM UTC
I use technology to take me to a time when it only half-existed. In a blue-shell room of mega-pixel photographs and rolling news feeds, I can put on my headphones and disappear into an instrumental Sunday.
There are stamp collectors making their lazy way over beaten roads and disused railways. 'Surrender' only means to fall asleep and to leave your book as a hut on your bedside table. Where war may still go on and on,
but at least you don't have to hear about it. Show me the place where pine-cones fall and women stare across the river. Where coffee is for taste, and not self-medication. I want to walk bare-foot and feel thorns
toughen my heels, infect my blood with Earth or God or Any Other Name. We will **** in the bushes, singing those fragments of Leonard Cohen lyrics that we can still remember from times spent smoking in my room.
I can almost feel that pointless happiness. That location in a canopy to retreat when the bills are due, when the walls needs re-painting. When the neighbour strangles puppies and all you do is complain about the time.
I use new music set to old sounds: freed slaves living in the cross-hairs of tradition. White lovers breaking their hearts over guitar strings and harmonies, always a semi-tone apart. I find your hair on my pillow.
There is no technology in the world to distract me from that.
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 6:29 PM UTC
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.
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 2:07 PM UTC
The men, mostly wrapped in grey,
With knitted necks have nothing to say.
But sway out of the way of the others, passing.
Over there, on six, a man is checking
No one is asking, but he’s still looking.
His finger’s pointing.
Beside me, a beautiful lady, is waiting
Speaking softly to her lover:
“Not long now” – she whispers’, lower.
With late night morning upon our faces
We wonder why, we are here at all
Collecting colds, old age, and wages:
Before middle, old, and then the fall.
And then the sun appears:
It lights the seats where no one sits
I feel my heart beat miss a bit.
I see myself years ago.
Waiting for a train to go.
To take our family away, for free
For fish, chips, salt and sea.
All of us all, sitting there:
Our fathers 1950’s hair,
Our sixties mother thin lipped stare,
my sisters, bothers, and me, just sat there.
Frozen cold, with tears sticking in my eyes.
And for a moment I want back that time.
To start again, at another me:
No more trains - but more sea.
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 4:23 AM UTC
Darling, I hope I'm the cause of your
existential crisis,
opening your mind
in horrifying,
vulnerable
ways.
I hope I make you question
and I hope I make you learn.
Maybe I'll rewire your brain--
praise me
let me incarcerate my
writings in your
bones,
let my thoughts linger,
let the pads of my finger tips
dwell along
the contours of the railways
in your head,
let me in.
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 7:34 PM UTC
Each morning I lie in bed and anticipate your arrival, my awakening, our escape
To the fair ground lights outside the city, and I dream that as we peak on the Ferris wheel,
And, with stars as our witness at this paramount moment, all of Texas comes into view.
Autumnal air ruffles your hair, and I'm reaching for you like always with little gestures:
My smiles, your smirks, my laughs, and our quirks. Mingling at the summit,
A hand brushes slowly along a knee with the smooth reintroduction to an old friend.
Long fingers fumble with need, and it's just you and me distancing ourselves
From our every day studies in distraction, comforted in our mutual procrastination.
With you I catch up on my anatomy and you excitedly review me in structures and railways.
On a train homeward bound, the heat of blood rising in your cheeks and lips
Sends an electric surge to my head and heart, and nerves tingle from anticipating home.
Under your tutelage, I soon appreciate the bridge of a nose finally unstressed by glasses,
The dynamic arches of a worn out back, and the strength of pillars erected in urgency
'Til daylight exposes last night's mysteries, and we rest in our ecstasy perspired,
Both of us finally relinquished from the weight of anticipation for this weekend to arrive.
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 11:50 AM UTC
Your old man
opened the door
and stood there smiling.
She won't be long
Benny boy
she's just making
herself beautiful
or haven't you
got that long?
and he laughed
and went back indoors
and left the door open ajar.
I stood there
on the red tiled doorstep
and waited
looking back
into the Square
seeing the man
with the boxer dog
walk past on his way
to the shop.
The milkman
was over the way
delivering milk to the flats
on the ground floor.
The door opened again
and your old man said
just off to the work
someone has to keep
the railways going
and he stepped off
down the steps
and away across
the Square
and down the slope.
Your brother Hem
came out the door
he stared at me
and went past
and around the corner
he didn't like me
since I beat him up
for throwing a firework
at my sister.
Then you came
to the door
in that white dress
and your hair in a mess.
Won't be long
you said
just got to have a wash
and be with you.
Ok
I said
see you soon
and you went back indoors
and closed the door.
I sat on the doorstep
watching the world go past
hoping you wouldnt be long
and sorted through
my small collection
of football cards
which ones to keep
and which ones to swap
at school on Monday.
I hoped you wouldnt be long
as the Saturday matinee
started in half an hour
and I hated
being late.
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 3:51 AM UTC
Step inside the refuge of my disillusionment,
you will find a blood red sun bursting in the eyes of
a man that never harnessed an even temperament.
A cresting wave crashes on the beaches along
these rusted railways that interweave these broken skies,
a road paved in regret, spilled from my minds eye.
Obscure sounds, and muted lights diffuse from
the gutters lined with my inner child’s blood. We shiver
coldly, a voiceless wind passes misunderstood.
Tragedy unfolds before our eyes, the luster has
given way to rust due to an underlying apathy. Without
affection, resolute urgency is beyond our capacity.
A cursed fate we are resigned to hate, a blessing
we’ve dusted over in a fools gold asylum. A serious man,
with serious lusts, still a bitter ghost of mistrust.
Wash your ****** hands in the morning sun,
remove your emerald isle from the barrel of my gun,
hearts bleed ruby red, a vascular fire in the sky.
Fate will fall about the movements upon your ethereal
skin, neurotic waterfalls rush through the nightmares you’re
living in. Bid to create a dream… where we… are clean.
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 10:32 PM UTC
My life moves like a bullet train and
I cannot anchor my heart and thoughts at your station.
Not anymore.
You no longer provide comfort, love, patience and care;
my basic needs.
I will be okay because all railways lead to something
and something is better than nothing.
I suppose my fingers should no longer outline the love and hate I hold for you.
And I suppose I have to stop writing about you now, or forever, stay stuck in this maze without you "
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 6:55 AM UTC
The lowly amber circles attune
on the savanna grass of Serengeti
as the glow penetrates our tent
where the hungry hyenas nudge
At the dawn of four thirty
when dew recollects on the green
and the lioness pawn are grounded
at the lawn where we once laid
You are possessive and protective
rejective and a handsome danger
hypnotized by spells of the acacia trees
dancing under the thousand stars
As I unlearn the memoirs of the past
within the decorative adventures
where the world was ours to hold
in shades of deep blue and reds
Float baby, stow on the highways
where we changed to hues of black
with beautiful stacked memories
in the wild chasing the leopards
Flow baby, stroll on the railways
where we felt a million tunes
tracking hunts and ******* rants
cautious of the predatory play
Fight baby, sew the sutured heart
where once a love was a lullaby
at the drop of the Kilimanjaro
unfreed from all the carry-ons
Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 3:48 PM UTC
England is waterlogged
becoming submerged
nascent Atlantis
surrendering to the tide
Sink holes in Hemel
sunk homes in Surrey
hanging railways in Devon
****** cafes by the sea
A damp apocalypse beckons
it may get wetter yet
now that rain reigns
Britain is ruled by waves
Cynthia Pauline Jones 15/2/14
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 9:06 AM UTC
it's not safe where you're going, I
whisper to the pregnant woman carrying her
grocery bags walking
towards the railways, she
probably knows, but
she probably doesn't, and if she doesn't, how would she?
the ones who know never speak up.
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 4:42 AM UTC
Existence, fleeting like snow
Like railways, our lives intersect
We were meant to meet, to cross each others paths
Time is infinite, a never ending string
forever unwinding.
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 4:07 PM UTC
internet.
connections at night,
awake only with highways, airports, railways and hearts that don't sleep.
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 2:41 PM UTC
We were kids trapped in ultra suburbia
A dying town disguised by perfectly lined houses
Filled with children, fake smiles, and cancerous spouses
To escape it all we rode our bikes like a teenage armada
Not knowing where our wheels took us, they took us away
We found adventures in silly things like abandoned houses and railways
All of us held hands while we sat around the fire
Coughing out our hearts quietly so we didn't wake the earth
I remember the time my parents yelled at me
For being a little too girly
Or when her mother burned her with cigarettes
For doing something she'll never regret
But in all this pain we became better people
Let's not forget the times we got in trouble for being us
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 12:16 AM UTC
so i sat there as always,
across the road near the railways,
i keep looking back as i silently hope
while thinking of cutting ties and rope
within my reach i extend my hand
i look around til i reach the land
quietly sighing as i realised
i was often the fool, never the wise
so at 1 am in the bright city lights
with unending lengths of every heights
i yearn for you, i long for you
in all the lies, this is what's true
the cold that shivered through out my body
as i heard steps i remember clearly
you stopped me from glancing through an embrace
this very moment i will never ever waste
Feb 16, 2021
Feb 16, 2021 at 12:05 PM UTC
There were no railways to follow
There were no signs to read
and no traffic light to signal.
There were only traces of memories
but we still, somehow, found a way
to hurt each other again.
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 5:33 AM UTC
Questions left unanswered
That which we ask ourselves, why?
Tired from unwanted existence
In this life, you and I
Uncertainty of tomorrow
In the waking of everyday
Strangling ropes to our throats
Dragging cobblestones on railways
Midnight shifting thoughts
That which I ask myself, should I?
Crumpled bed sheets whispering soft
A life we must survive
Jul 29, 2016
Jul 29, 2016 at 1:18 PM UTC
You can have Tennessee,
I want Rhode Island,
You can have Michigan,
But I want Arizona.
You can have Manhattan,
Austin,
Las Angeles,
But please pay no mind to West Virginia.
I deserve Hatteras,
Considering my childhood
Phoenix? Please keep it, I don’t belong there
I want the subways,
The taxis,
And Vegas,
I’ll promise to steer clear from your home state,
New Hampshire.
Make sure to take the country roads,
railways,
and buses,
As long has as you never step foot in Seattle.
You can have our old apartment,
I get the dog though,
He likes me better,
Burn down the bar where we met long ago.
I want Wisconsin,
Maryland,
Ohio,
Say hello to your mother for me in California.
A mutual declaration,
We divide our favorite places.
If we’re lucky,
We’ll never contact again.
We’ll map out the borders,
Part ways,
Shake hands,
Declaring the love we had,
uninhabitable.
And yes, we’ll split the difference.
If we should step on each other’s path,
in passing,
Despite my avoidance,
I will be very humble,
Very stern,
Aloof,
But forgiving.
I don’t ever want to see you again, my friend.
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
When we speak of parents
We usually refer to the mother
More than the father
Which is quite unfortunate
Because fathers are equally special
Of course, it is the mother
Who has to suffer through labour
And its unspeakable pain
In order to bear the child
However, once the child is born
The role of the father
Becomes equally important
Coming to my own experience
I could not have asked
For a better father
He has been there for me, no matter what
Taking me almost anywhere
Whether it be India
Or the rest of the world
A special mention to the train trips
Since it is only due to my Dad
That the Railways hold such a special place in my heart
Next to the Railways
Pride of place goes to cricket and tennis
With Dad sponsoring my cricket coaching
And playing tennis with me and my sister
I will never forget
The India vs Bangladesh match at Birmingham
Nor all those Wimbledon finals
The events themselves were memorable
But it was Dad's company
That made them all the sweeter
Anyway, enough about sports
Without Dad's support
I would never have made it through school
Especially the transition from CBSE to ICSE
That too in the eighth standard
Moreover, not many fathers
Would've been as patient and understanding
As mine was, during my engineering struggles
Which involved notching up seven arrears
However, the biggest challenge was my professional life
My first job was full of ups and downs
And towards the end
I felt like a fish out of water
Plunging from crisis to crisis
And eventually being forced to resign
And take a break from work
During these difficult times
Dad not only arranged my counselling
But also stood by my side like a rock
Putting up with whatever tantrums I threw
And this continued during my second job
Which turned out to be a nerve-wracking experience
Ultimately ending in a termination
After six months of hard toil
Coming to recent times
During my trainwreck of a marriage
And the subsequent divorce process
Dad and I ended up getting closer than ever
And I hope this only continues
Though of course for happier reasons!
So, as I said earlier
Fathers are equally special as mothers
Full stop
Jul 9, 2022
Jul 9, 2022 at 1:45 PM UTC
How long will you stay uninterested?
In this relationship like me, even you have invested.
My idea of intimacy is based on my lifelong emptiness.
Have you too felt the pangs of loneliness?
How long have I been lonely in this world?
Well, essentially since my lonely & difficult childhood.
And now you might ask me another counter question.
If I had my parents along, why this notion?
Now, tell me, is having parents sufficient?
Surely, we need siblings, friends, and a joint family.
Grandparents help you endure the pangs of loneliness.
Dear, have you ever been directionless?
I grew up without their guidance,
All I had were my busy parents.
How can you judge me based on your experiences?
Come to my world, but take your time to assess.
You say that you chose me as you hope maturity,
But now you know that I'm impulsive like you.
I rhyme a lot,
I whine a little.
I write a lot,
I speak a little.
Allegorical reiteration of my story,
It keeps happening, I keep repeating.
Either you like me,
Or maybe my life.
Or maybe you don't,
Either way you're mine.
Time will bring us close,
Like you say, like you say.
Time will teach you how to love,
Like I express myself, so will you.
Yes, so will you,
Dead sure, so will you.
No, you won't be scared,
For my soul is more scarred.
Than my imperfect body,
My mind is more beautiful.
From my jobs,
I earn money and reputation.
I audit the Railways,
Working for the Government.
Comptroller & Auditor General of India,
My employer.
Indian Railways, the North Eastern Railway HQ,
My paymaster.
While we audit their expenditures,
They even make our paychecks.
I invest in the money market,
And even in the Providence.
But I have reached where nobody speculated,
No, not even I could speculate this.
While I knew that I must succeed,
Even my mother was unsure.
Nobody else knew this for sure,
Well, nobody, nobody except for my father.
Whilst I prepared for the exam,
My mother provided food so nutritious.
Only my father had faith in my potential,
He laughed away all the speculations.
They suggested weird, insulting alternatives,
Sadists the people are oftentimes.
I thank my parents for bringing me here,
And it was my father who gave me the power.
He remained calm throughout,
And his oceanic calm is contagious.
My mother did convey the speculations,
But my father invested his hopes.
Although there is no need to reiterate,
Hope is the most powerful of all the words.
I'm on a train right now,
You might meet me soon.
Aug 14, 2024
Aug 14, 2024 at 4:09 PM UTC
Under the clocks there was a man
Whom I saw beside the ticket machine.
Passengers of the train
Come and go
Towards a destination of their own,
But he seems already at home
Under the clocks, below the railways;
Or is the station his only find?
Dressed in confusion and mental
Isolation from the sight of
Busy Melbournians.
Left to be sold to
First impressions and
Entertainment for the passersby,
But he receives none
Of their trampling feet
And their questioning eyes:
For when he shouted mumbling
Words at men with
Badges and gun machines,
As they did their inspection
In and out of his clothes and his
Bare feet,
He knows one thing and
One thing only -
He has a place to go,
But where?
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 9:09 PM UTC