I walked along Malarkey Street
Then turned right into Shenanigans Street.
At the junction with Tomfoolery Crescent
(The first junction not the second one)
I crossed over and took my path through Flim-Flam Cut.
I reached work only three minutes late
This was due to the wrong sort of blather as I crossed Caterwauling Canal.
Later, at 5:03, I finished work. Then…
I had to retrace my steps.
Same old, same old.
It was just like this
The times they are a-changing
And the platforms, too
An announcement is made
And the herd for that journey
Up sticks and move from 4a to 3
For the 18:10 that is already nine minutes late
People with suitcases and bags, children, bikes and more
Climb the steps to try and reach the promised land
Whilst I almost miss my trusty steed
Because of 18:19 poem-writing
That is over-running due to task-in-hand
And will have to be finished-
The distant sound of traffic on the A35 accompanies me as I seek the land of Nodd; and, though I seek in vain, I know that I am not alone in this quest. Many souls lay awake and contemplate the world passing by outside of their little peace of haven.
A chill has risen that is so at odds with the heat of the daylight hours that it seems unreal; just a memoir of a cool spring that was, or an autumn that is yet to arrive.
Soon, I shall strive to regain the dream state that is eluding me. Soon, I hope, my date with far off combustion engines will be over and we can bid each other “G’night!” before we have to greet each other with the “Mornin'” that signals another battle lost, another restless, restive night that brought little in the way of rest.
Posted in Awake, Insomnia, Journey, Night, prose, Sleep
Tagged #Again, #awake, #Insomnia, #night, #prose, #Sleep
This splat form
please fill it out
As there is a train waiting
And you can’t delay
A train of thought;
Or something upon those lines.
If there is a point to all this
Then I do not know it;
It all points to some destination
But, as it may be a departure from my norm
I shall just see how it all pans out.
It may be a miscarriage of poetic justice;
Or just a jumble of words
That wag on randomly;
Or, it may be just the ticket;
From which a journey
Can depart-you to France
(If you know what I mean)
Or somewhere else.
If you choose to remain stationary
Then please can you fill out
This splat form – as there is another train of thought due along
Any time-table soon.
Not the train I went on – worse luck. G:)
Having travelled the length and the breadth
(sometines in the shallow end
sometimes way out of my depth)
Of the land
By foot, train, lift and van;
I’m now back at home with my darling Jane
And I’m a happy, tired man.
It’s true that there’s no gain without pain
And I have to do it tomorrow all over again
(apart from the train – that can wait until Friday)
thank you for journeying along as I weathered the seas (none of those)
And I hereby declare a last call for: “Fares, please!”
Not for my journey
I was considering train times
As a possible source of rhymes
But, I think I missed the boat on that one, alas
I thought I’d pen a few lines in my compartment
Upon my carriage and deportment
But, I am a bit of a slob when it comes to class
I was almost derailed by the thought of a buffet trolley
But, missed the points of going the whole nine railway yards; what a wally.
I am in training.
I know not
That would be my destination.
Just the ticket!
Running for the train
I’m running for the train
I hope my effort’s not in vain
For to miss my desired train
Would mean I’d have to wait…
…for the next one
And waiting for the train
(Although much less effort is required)
Is such a pain.