Freight
By london_calling79
- 3901 reads
The oak clock sounds deeper than before.
More profound on your mantel.
In the quiet house
it could wake the dead.
There's coffee grains on your lapel.
You're coiffed unlike before in life,
a silent witness
to our mute, grey morning.
You were a freight train in the desert, old man.
Clanking metal boring east to west.
Fired at the horizon
you thundered through us all,
shook every bone,
tugged at our clothes,
too fast to follow,
your hollow heartbeat;
a metal echo.
The hush upsets
my youngest's slumber.
He folds in linen, elemental wailing.
Amongst the clock, the train,
the carpet stir
we hush your grandson
and watch his eyes blur.
They see, like yours did,
the freight we all were.
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Comments
wieghty, but worth the wait,
wieghty, but worth the wait, worth the following and an invitation to care.
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Yes, a sense of weight and
Yes, a sense of weight and stillness.
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ambiguity beautifully
ambiguity beautifully expressed
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I keep coming back to this
I keep coming back to this one - it's very good! That's why it's our Facebook and Twitter Pick of the Day.
Get a great reading recommendation everyday. Please share/retweet if you you like it too!
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I've come back to this three
I've come back to this three times now too. A freight train in the desert - I don't know if freight is an American word but there's something old about it, the whole poem seems to make me think of old films, maybe the 40's or 50's, but a different colour to modern day ones. A film with a lot of silence and long shots and wide screen I'm thinking. Ok short version of that - put a picture in my head, started telling a story.
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I see a man that shook the
I see a man that shook the family up. A freight train straddles the generational gaps gorgeously with a sepia nostalgia, the linear direction and steel force of this man rattles through reader and (poetic narrator's) relatives. To be reckoned with, once. A beautiful poem.
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Beautiful LC....
Beautiful LC....
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