When I’m going away-
I fold myself onto trains
slotting my luggage between gaps-
that seem to shrink as I touch them.
I think about you and glance between the carriages.
But really I don’t know what I’m looking for
it is so easy to get lost;
between the tracks
or the shaky truth of addiction-
trying to fight ourselves.
The ticket machine rejects my change;
as my fingertips spill ink onto time-tables seeking freedom.
And you say “not everyone is running.”
But all I see are people bundling themselves
into carriages, too compact to filter air.
Looking to forget for as long as they can-
the bare cupboards and words that are stuck
in a time-zone of their own- too fragile to exhale;
scared to say what they really mean.
Running in circles of overlapping truth.
And don’t tell me that you don’t want to miss your stop
to gather your bones back together after a day-
of burying your problems under your skin;
and flashing your eyes like warnings.
That time is running out.
An old women stands and two boys
attempt to sleep on a bench at the station-
his older brother tells him that they can’t go home.
Maybe they’re stationary but their eyes are shut tight;
the darkness is a platform away from reality.
And I resolve with the palm of my hand
that I can never let go.
Comments
Highhat | September 17, 2011 - 18:37
"....words that are stuck
in a time-zone of their own- too fragile to exhale;"
these are my favorite lines but the whole poem is good Beeme- you are on a roll as they say..
;)Pia
Beeme | September 17, 2011 - 18:55
Thank you very much Pia :) Glad you enjoyed.
Beeme xx
Prettyrose | September 17, 2011 - 20:09
Hi Beeme :) well done great poem.You captured it so true too life.
Keep Writing
Keep Smiling :)
Highhat | September 17, 2011 - 20:18
But really I don’t know what I’m looking for
it is so easy to get lost;
between the tracks
I think you may have to look at your punctuation again Beeme- seems a bit awkward ?
And don’t tell me that you don’t want to miss your stop
to gather your bones back together after a day-
also here?
of burying your problems under your skin;
and flashing your eyes like warnings.
I may be a bit pedantic and I do I believe there should be freedom in poetry - so maybe I am a bit off course...?? Sorry if I misunderstood your punctuation!
atb
;)Pia
Cavalcaderl | September 18, 2011 - 00:53
new Beeme
Congrats;
on the cherry!
Enjoyed this poem very much,
so very true trains full and passengers.
Absolutely agree with what you say.
Mine got part shut in the doors when 1st
design came in, we went to jump off,going
on a holiday then,he is roughly 6ft tall
and about 15 stone, without that bad weight, heaving door open for me to get through,
then him, could been squoshed. Then he was B/rail to.
Ah! take care.
julie xx
Beeme | September 18, 2011 - 20:56
Thanks Rose and Julie! I know the punctuation might be all over the place in this one, it was rushed. I'll see what I can do :)
Beeme xx
barryj1 | September 20, 2011 - 14:26
Yours is some of the best poetry I've ever read.
MistakenMagic | September 20, 2011 - 17:11
Beeme, I am IN LOVE with your poetry at the moment. This imagery of trains and journeys is beautiful and brooding. Very well done!
Magic xxx
Beeme | September 20, 2011 - 20:01
omg thanks so much barry and Magic :)
Beeme xx