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Open Poetry #46
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easy1
Senior Member
since 2010-05-22
Posts 1209
Southeastern USA

0 posted 2010-08-22 11:21 PM



Locomotion


At dawn's first gray, a distant light appears
far down the sleepy, tree-lined grade. The early morning train!
I have been waiting for hours, or so it seems, to watch the passage of this leviathan of dreams.
Yet, now it barely seems to move. No diesels' throbbing tones yet reach my eager ears.
So there is time for me to kick at ballast stones, and touch upon cold steel again in vain.

Now in anticipation I neglect the locomotive's lamp too slow, taunting with its mirrored beams, yet what, pray tell, did I expect?
I have been here before, and should really know.

Now, traffic sounds rush headlong down from the large-banked highway overhead.
A bowl of cereal and milk back home would hit the ever-lovin' spot.
The sky grows incandescent bright, as owls protest their last at fleeing night,
and fold wings gracefully to nest in bed. Here the forest trees once fought and lost a battle---and at what cost!

I know not how much time had passed; perhaps a few minutes, barely more,
when, from behind, the urgent note of roaring grime, and smoke, and blackened steel
came through me like a warning bell. Hide! Hide! In sodden weeds of ancient strife! Behind the concrete wall! Beneath the overpass of life abide!

Avast! The locomotive roars its free triumphal score,
echoing the loud heretic madness of another dawning day in what we call the real.

Two short, harmonic blasts of horn flow back when tremor has passed a ways.
Casey Jones at last recalls a grade crossing gone through on bygone days.
All headed for the city now---that's why they run so near to dawn.
Boxcars rattle, clink, and moan, flicker past and then are gone.  



© Copyright 2010 Mark C. - All Rights Reserved
Amaryllis
Senior Member
since 2010-05-20
Posts 1306
Mi now
1 posted 2010-08-23 01:02 AM


A wonderful write, easy1.. a nod to the old ballad, and well done. You have some wonderful descriptive imagery here, bringing many senses into play for the reader... lines like   `as owls protest their last at fleeing night, and fold wings gracefully to nest in bed`   and  `when, from behind, the urgent note of roaring grime, and smoke, and blackened steel`... these add such flavor to this piece.  I enjoyed your use of the lingo of the time, and the ghost of Casey Jones.  But my favorite thing of all.. was your penultimate line.. the last line of the poem is pure gold. Love it. Perfect word choice there, the sonics wonderfully matched to the moment. Well done!
.
Only thing that tripped me up maybe was the bowl of cereal.. but that`s probably just me.  
.
Overall, a fun read, and thanks, for it!  
Best to you~Amaryllis

easy1
Senior Member
since 2010-05-22
Posts 1209
Southeastern USA
2 posted 2010-08-23 10:22 AM


Thanks, Amaryllis, for the kind words. The subject is from an actual event (not that uncommon a one, really), and melodrama'd up for poetic license here. Lol, the cereal/breakfast hunger line was a bit of a s-o-c tangent, and could stand rewriting. Nice pickup there.
The Lady
Member Rara Avis
since 2005-12-26
Posts 7634
The Southwest
3 posted 2010-08-31 11:32 PM




"Avast! The locomotive roars its free triumphal score,
echoing the loud heretic madness of another dawning day in what we call the real."

powerful write easy1


Earth Angel
Member Empyrean
since 2002-08-27
Posts 40215
Realms of Light
4 posted 2010-09-01 10:01 AM


"At dawn's first gray, a distant light appears
far down the sleepy, tree-lined grade. The early morning train!"

~ Captivating intro to an engaging poem! Much enjoyed!


EA

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