Trains
1
In the marrowbone of night,
your song parts the fog.
I never knew the secrets entrusted there.
I never knew that cinders and steel
could lie so passionately
and still believe that the watchman’s hours
would evaporate and leave us scratching for more.
I have stolen time.
The windows remain closed and shuttered.
Even the wind turns away.
The track narrows.
You call.
Again.
2
Sometimes song seems the only respite,
the rhythm of clashing cars
and moments stretched beyond the next bend
to that point where light winks out.
We both know this lonely tunnel.
Payment is due.
I have always exited alone.
3
Another evening, and red smoke completes the horizon.
Your ribs stretch for distance,
and while I cannot see their end,
I know by sound
their lot.
Sing for me.
It is not
too close.
“Trains” was originally published in Lightning’d Press (Issue 8) in Spring of 2014, and was reprinted on Aubade Rising in April, 2015. It is also included in my chapbook, If Your Matter Could Reform.
Love this
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Thank you!
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We have a preponderance of trains in my area. They definitely inspire a response.
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I seldom hear them anymore.
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Unfortunately, we live in a funnel where over a hundred trains pass through our town. I’m very aware of them.
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Trains, like many things, are best taken in moderation. 🙂
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I think this is one of my favorites of yours, Robert! It is wonderful!
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Thanks, Tanya. So pleased you feel that way!
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Nice poem. I was fascinated with trains as a child.
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Thanks, Andrew. I still am.
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So am I. Perhaps not as much as I was then, but I still am.
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trains are so much more than ‘scratching for more’ Awesome
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Yes, they are. Thanks so much.
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Having grown up next to the Erie-Lackawanna Rail, your words evoke powerful images.
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I miss hearing them in the distance.
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So lovely, Bob — and one of many reasons I’m glad I own If Your Matter Could Reform. 🙂
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Aw, Cate. Thank you!
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Awesome Robert !
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Thank you!0
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The inevitability of both entering and exiting the “lonely tunnel” is as palpable as the Doppler Effect. I have no idea how the physics actually works, but there is no question here that the observer moving away from the observed (and vice versa) results in a shift experienced as loss, and yet, somewhere, there is a relative point at which time stops, and who is to say whether it is for better or worse? We are simply conditioned for trainspotting.
The mood of this poem seems more than slightly reminiscent of Ernest Hemingway’s short story, “Hills Like White Elephants.” Do you know it?
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Hmm. Yes, I know it! I never would have placed the two in the same ballpark, but I like that you have. Very interesting, and it lets me examine my own writing from a different perspective, which is invaluable. Thank you!
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Reblogged this on wwwpalfitness.
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Thanks for reblogging!
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You’re welcome
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Thanks Robert. Great poem, and, coming from a railway family, it is always special to see poems on trains. 🙂
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Trains are enigmatic to me.
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Beautiful!!
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Thank you, Daniel.
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I am currently filling several notebooks with a poetry project that I am working on. It is going to take a year to finalize it, but I am officially writing poetry now. I will fill you in on the details soon, but know this. I am finally brave enough to write like this thanks to your MAJOR inspiration. どうもありがとうございました… Okaji-sama!!
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You are too kind, as always, Daniel. And I am honored to have played any small role in your creative process. I hope you might send a bit to me at some point. Looking forward to reading!
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This was one of my favorites in your book. I fell in love with trains when my grandfather took me to work with him as a child. He ran one of those big tank farms for Amoco and trains came often. I now live about four blocks from a CSX line and my morning alarm is a train horn.
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I started writing this poem, in my head, one Sunday evening, while driving home from our rural property. Funny how these things occur!
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well done!
i’m feeling
a train song 🙂
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Thank you. I could stand for a little “Peace Train.”
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That is just insanely lovely. You are one of my favorite poets. So moving… wow.
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Thank you so much! You have made my day.
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Great poem 🙂
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Thanks very much!
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You are welcome 🙂
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Very nice. I have spent most of my life living near the rails. Their sounds have become normal. The chung, chung, chung echoes off the building across from me giving the sounds an eerie, beautiful reverb.
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I heard them quite often in my childhood, but no longer live in an area they pass through. I miss them.
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I’ve read this a few times now, there is so much in it. I really enjoy the way you write.
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Thanks very much. It’s always a pleasure to hear that something I’ve written touches someone.
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Wonderful poem
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Thank you, Belinda.
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This is gorgeously crafted!
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Thank you very much.
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Reblogged this on Ripple Poetry and commented:
Love this one Robert!
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Thank you!
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Especially like this one!
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✧Your ribs stretch for distance✧
I really like that line!
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I’m so please you like it. Thank you.
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I couldn’t begin to reach the depths of this work, not after 5 reads even. Beautiful in the sense of mysticism.
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You are very kind. Thank you.
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The pleasure was mine, keep the work coming. Its motivating to say the least.
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I’ll try – I can’t seem to stop writing…
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A healthier habit than most. Just know you’ve got another viewer!
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