Category Archives: Train

Traintextuals!

image

I think that I saw one of those traintextuals this morning. On the 05:55 to Waterloo. He or she (lots and lots of hair) was pressing buttons like it was nobody’s business. Which, of course, it was. I wonder if they were a writer. Or a wronger.

Monday Morning Platform Poem #2

image

Monday Morning Platform Poem #2

Later today
After catching a mouse
(Not a crab)
So, shorter time
To write my rhyme
The train is due quite soon
I will have to be brief
For time is a thief
And I have little with which to dwell upon.

The sky, still grey,
Heralds a day
Full of derring-do;
Of what is to come
I am dumb
The future is orangey-blue.
So with left but a second
This is not what I reckoned
“Hasty, lacks content!”
You might say.
But, what is, has to be
As I said near the start
The train’s coming for me
It is here now
So, alas, I depart.

Bon Voyage!

Another Train-Based Piece (Running 14 minutes late – wrong points setting at Droitwich)

Larkin or Auden
Auden or Larkin
Larkin or Auden
Auden or Larkin
Adlestrop stop
Thomas or Auden
Auden or Thomas
Thomas or Auden
Auden or Thomas
Thomas the Tank Engine?
No, Edward Thomas.
Edward Thomas or Aldgate
Aldgate or Edward Thomas
Edward Thomas or Aldgate
Aldgate!
Isn’t that upon the underground?
Circle Line or Northern
Jubilee or Piccadilly
District or Waterloo
Bakerloo or…

Hammersmith!

Monday Morning Platform Poetry #2

image

Monday Morning Platform Poetry #2

The ticket machine is having a bad morning
A vacant expression upon its face
It is moaning quietly to itself in the corner
Considering getting out of this place.

But, though it has all the tickets
To all the destinations,
It’s roots are here
And it’s going to stick around
A while longer;
It doesn’t really have a say.

And, as a procession of commuter types approach in hopes
And turn in resignation,
The ticket machine continues to moan quietly
Not issuing, but frowning
Dwelling upon the career path chosen for it
By those who have the third rail power

Waiting for the Train Home

It was just like this

It was just like this

The times they are a-changing
And the platforms, too
An announcement is made
And heard
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-
“All A-board!”

Stream-Train of Consciousness Writing

Stream-Train

Stream-Train

I’ve got my back to the wall
I’ve got my back to the engine
The world flashes by
There is no tomorrow
It is always today
In my mind
The here and now
Of the lost and found
Will go to ground
With unexplainable ease
Before you can say “Why?”
Or ask “What?”
Or do “Anything.”

Best not to ask what your cross-country train can do for you.
Best not to.
You might not like the answer;
Somebody might not like the question;
Nobody will know if you just keep it to yourself;
Except little, old you.
So, that’s okay then.

Where were we?

And… Where are we?

More to the point…

What’s for tea?

At the end of the end of a busy day

Not the train I went on - worse luck. G:)

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!”