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Open Poetry #34
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It was only a little sip or slip
| Open Poetry #34 |
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It was only a little sip or slip |
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DavePage Member Elite
since 2003-12-21
Posts 2917 |
People talk about block and normally for me a title is the signal for fingers to forget the body and remind me when they have finished. You can do the standard "My eyes etc.", play with every idea you ever done and dress it as new. You can look at the old words that are raw and waiting for you to "in your mind" just nudge them and you find yourself in "someone else's" mind. Yes I can see a railway station, I can see a hesitant man or women but can I discern between them. I can visualise the steam from a train and move that to the reality of their emotion and it becomes nothing more than a glimpse of the pit before the plunge into a normality that defines safety. Perhaps from steam can come forth speed Waking vibrating beds To curse Yet another noisy engine That a pillow can not cover To find yourself close to someone by a house moving on it's fondations Moving your carpets and destiny To more than a dry clean |
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RSWells Member Elite
since 2001-06-17
Posts 2533 |
Trains mean so much more where you are than over here. We nearly have lost the romanticism of that hypnotic ride, the silence left in the wake of a departure after egress and for the most part the fog that lends to that film noir mood. What we know of trains often comes via disasters or in cursed delays and only the lonesome whistle reminds the lucky we who live in an area where it can soothe a sleepless night yet appreciate the value. Poets against the war is redundant |
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