"trainstation" poems - Hello Poetry

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.

0

Jan 7, 2021

Jan 7, 2021 at 12:23 AM UTC

Theodora_Calimani

Experience

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.

11

There is darkness, and then there is utter darkness. In this pristine atmosphere I have crossed my legs, clasped my hands and placed them in between openings. My eyes follow suit. I am in the pyramid black and yet I don’t feel lost. I am here amongst the burning wild bushes of thought. These are fires dying animals gravitates toward. In this day and age, we long for more fires rather than water to nurture our dried out hearts. There’s a drought. I try not to feed it. And so I stay here, not perturbed in the least. What was I thinking? A beautiful young girl all the way in Afghanistan. I’d like to hear her whisper sweet nothings into my ear. No. Wait. I think I can hear the bombs now. A voice that slithers through nearby carts rushing past on freshly built railroads. A trainstation of the mind. Often, I feel my body contorting itself into the youthful rage I once loved. And by love, I mean grew truly comfortable about. Comfort is a great ecstasy. I am no writer. I have no motive.

0

Apr 13, 2016

Apr 13, 2016 at 4:37 AM UTC

afinitecreature

Make-Up Tutorials

There is darkness, and then there is utter darkness. In this pristine atmosphere I have crossed my legs, clasped my hands and placed them in between openings. My eyes follow suit. I am in the pyramid black and yet I don’t feel lost. I am here amongst the burning wild bushes of thought. These are fires dying animals gravitates toward. In this day and age, we long for more fires rather than water to nurture our dried out hearts. There’s a drought. I try not to feed it. And so I stay here, not perturbed in the least. What was I thinking? A beautiful young girl all the way in Afghanistan. I’d like to hear her whisper sweet nothings into my ear. No. Wait. I think I can hear the bombs now. A voice that slithers through nearby carts rushing past on freshly built railroads. A trainstation of the mind. Often, I feel my body contorting itself into the youthful rage I once loved. And by love, I mean grew truly comfortable about. Comfort is a great ecstasy. I am no writer. I have no motive.

7

I sat at the trainstation at 7am and the temptation to jump under the train was so great I nearly did But I couldn’t because I forgot my shoes at your place and I had your smokes and key in my pocket The security walked past me and tears ran down my face making the path for more of them to travel down I got on a train and it was cold I didn’t want to sit in the quiet carriage I rested my head on a window I cried rain but then sun shined and maybe it was going to be all right people talked about their lives I heard them And then I cried again And again And again And again And I still do I wish it stopped but I want someone to really care about me or maybe just like me a little that would be great as well Im sorry I’m such a **** person.

0

Dec 26, 2012

Dec 26, 2012 at 5:20 PM UTC

kim-jong-il

Sad by trainlights

I sat at the trainstation at 7am and the temptation to jump under the train was so great I nearly did But I couldn’t because I forgot my shoes at your place and I had your smokes and key in my pocket The security walked past me and tears ran down my face making the path for more of them to travel down I got on a train and it was cold I didn’t want to sit in the quiet carriage I rested my head on a window I cried rain but then sun shined and maybe it was going to be all right people talked about their lives I heard them And then I cried again And again And again And again And I still do I wish it stopped but I want someone to really care about me or maybe just like me a little that would be great as well Im sorry I’m such a **** person.

12