...found my earlier days when want
was lost in dreams; pride
was in my Grandma's knowing smile.
One day of thrills from mighty black engines
spouting steam and smoke, rumbled
across fields and my dreams, big rail yards
where rolling stock came to die
to bleed black oil back into oozy ground;
yes, there... great forests were laid to rest
neat and uniform chunks, oaken miracles of sun and soil,
become forms preserved in even more pungent poison
made a bed of iron[y]...miles of steel rails, piercing spikes
carried futures in ever smaller circles of raw to finished,
farm to market, hard labor to profits, sweet deals.
Love and a bumpy cascade across mountains
quaking bridges over ancient rivers
and mountains with names grown old
and accustomed to man and glory
long before Europe came to call this wilderness
its own[ed]...then to rust and ruin.
Was little men in big and tall buildings
somewhere faraway, claimed a new wilderness of values
on the backs of those who had given so much
life and patience, sweat and toil.
Lost as I began my run from child to man
jostled on rickety rails through towns
once joined like beaded jewels
then up close I see decay, frayed and broken strings
going, going... gone to change and choices... nothing lasts
as if all for love and a train ride.
Author notes
contest Inspired by:
A Moment Like This by Douglas Goetsch
A contest entry
- A Moment Like This by Rowan.
800 points, ended December 17, 2008, 13 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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I love trains, the sounds, the sight, the ride...
and it is sad to see passenger trains less and less.
My house used to tremble on the weight of them,but less and less often. With the loss of our elevators, farms, time and change seem inevitable, but sad isn't it.
I love the ride you took me on. Thanks
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Such tenderness expressed in the hard road of history. How do you do that? How?
I am so taken with this poem. I can barely pick out a single line as each held its own impact and solid reality. To have lived oppression is to know true need.
As always, your voice is strong and steady. Always a pleasure to read your fine verse. ~Pamela 
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wonderful poem, full of imagery
It reminded me of the days when the indigenous people must have seen the destruction coming from the east...and their fear of the locomotive bringing the material future.
Was it for the little men in their far off offices who lived on the sweat of honest men?
That is what your poem makes me think about.
I like the dramatic tone of the poem and some of the lines capture me. I feel the drama in these lines:
"become forms preserved in even more pungent poison
made a bed of iron[y]...miles of steel rails, piercing spikes
carried futures in ever smaller circles of raw to finished,
farm to market, hard labor to profits, sweet deals."
Very thought provoking and insightful.
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A marvellous way of describing industrialization....
"...found my earlier days when want
was lost in dreams; pride
was in my Grandma's knowing smile."
I liked this.... makes one nostalgic... I think all grandma's have knowing smiles.
Beautifully written!
peace. -
Lovely nostalgia about childhood and the memories that were made. I simply love steam trains for their beauty, their grace and romance. Here is still a steam train running between Mossel Bay and Knysna, the Choo-Choo - something that stayed... So enjoyed this this moment, PK.
~ Nicolette
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When asphalt takes over the rail roads...That image is so well shown on the second stanza.
There is a feeling of nostalgia here, a want to see things back, unspoiled.
Well done with images and sentiment
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"Lost as I began my run from child to man
jostled on rickety rails through towns
once joined like beaded jewels"
love the imagery of the towns along the railway joined like beaded jewels, i love train rides...
interesting & yes, the broken strings, it seems like so many parts of the railway everywhere are in dire need of repair now...best of luck in the contest
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