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Trains That Poetry Forgot
Trains That The Words Forgot
Steam and smoke trains, no longer fume, lying like dead corpses or spare parts of what once was called the golden age.If they would fume, they'd only give a plaintive sigh, about their desolate demise, forsaken and rejected........
Thought to have lost their charm, their romance:too much archaic and rusted for a modern glossary,
They don't whistle full-throat screams, when coming into crowded scene, with travelers waiting with roses and flowers.....and home--comers long awaited return, from war, from places never before gone to....
Old smoking trains too much aged for a godspeed journey across the green lands, and winding between the grazing pastures and the flat plains and the long tracks, thru' the gigantic mountains, and alongside the deadly cliffs,,
But, safety guaranteed and entertainment are additional bonus...........
They throng, now inside the old wood station, built somewhere at the fringe of the town,
beside the pine forest..and the old cemetery........
Those archaic trains, on the dusty shelf remain, like outworn clichés rejected,. Art is antiquity enshrined...on Natural museums and open to air parks...............
I don't cry over those dead entities which don't whistle, but i cry on Romance missed and Beauty overlooked, In time of fast eating and fast breeding, and fast living; and fast death.dying, nothing doing !!!
Steam and smoke trains, no longer fume, lying like dead corpses or spare parts of what once was called the golden age.If they would fume, they'd only give a plaintive sigh, about their desolate demise, forsaken and rejected........
Thought to have lost their charm, their romance:too much archaic and rusted for a modern glossary,
They don't whistle full-throat screams, when coming into crowded scene, with travelers waiting with roses and flowers.....and home--comers long awaited return, from war, from places never before gone to....
Old smoking trains too much aged for a godspeed journey across the green lands, and winding between the grazing pastures and the flat plains and the long tracks, thru' the gigantic mountains, and alongside the deadly cliffs,,
But, safety guaranteed and entertainment are additional bonus...........
They throng, now inside the old wood station, built somewhere at the fringe of the town,
beside the pine forest..and the old cemetery........
Those archaic trains, on the dusty shelf remain, like outworn clichés rejected,. Art is antiquity enshrined...on Natural museums and open to air parks...............
I don't cry over those dead entities which don't whistle, but i cry on Romance missed and Beauty overlooked, In time of fast eating and fast breeding, and fast living; and fast death.dying, nothing doing !!!
Published 30th Jul 2024
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