It withers
the carnation received but
still the separation.
How many trains pass through the station
without you.
tanka by Ana Ruse from Haiku: Magazine of Romanian – Japanese Relationships (2004), translated by Magdalena Dale
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Trains
Here I am at the end of the day
With a cup of cold coffee
From the station buffet.
On trains, on trains I seem
To spend my life on trains.
See the blue suit banker in the ticket line.
Got an evening standard with playboy
Hidden behind.
On trains, on trains he seems
To spend his life on trains.
Time after time.
Was I just dreaming?
Did I help you aboard?
Full passenger service ---
Let me help with the door.
Sit down take the weight off your feet.
Theres a train full of people Id like
You to meet.
On trains, on trains we love
To spend our lives on trains.
Join the secret world of trains.
Feel the pleasure. touch the pain.
Drift into yesterday.
Once and again
I was just thinking.
We could meet sometime
On the 17.30 where
I usually find
My friends at the end of the day.
May we pay your fare, lady?
We should like you to stay
In our train. on trains ---
Youll have to spend your life
On trains.
I hear theres an office party on the 18.05.
Youll be home for christmas if they
Take you alive from the train.
Those trains, we have to spend our lives
On trains.
Once and again
I was just thinking.
We could meet any time
On number two platform
Where I usually find
My friends at the end of the day.
On trains, trains, trains.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Separation
How does one define separation?
What does one mean by separation?
Is it when breath is severed from the body?
Is it when the court of law declares 'divorced? '
How many separations come as blows!
How many, pass by silently!
How many separations we live with
And how many more do we contain!
Don't some come as relief too?
Tell me, my friend
Why do we always think of separation as external?
How many of us aren't really separated from our self?
Tell me, can you define separation for me?
20 May 2011
20.09hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Two Station Masters
TWO STATION MASTERS
My friend is a station-master
at Hill Groove in
Nilgiri mountain section
33 years of railway service
fully spent in this sleepy station
hardly, two trains a day
in summer, say, one more
no goods traffic
nor frequent crossings
no revenue instead - ‘Safety' award
for ‘nil' accident record,
closed for rains and landslide,
station is locked up at 6 pm sharp
his gross earnings is forty thousand
for two or three man- hours spent
hill allowance, free warm clothing
no boss to obey, no risk to bother
happiest worker
does'nt want any change, either
look at his counter-part
positioned in a busiest double line,
handling 30-45 trains, within
a tight span of 8 hours
whole night, in full vigil
with all round tension
at times, an irate passenger
supervision of all kind
sucked out and exhausted
leaves for his home,
for the same pay - packet
is it an anomaly
or equity, parity, one cadre- one pay
equal pay for equal work
………………………..I have no answer.
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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Here I go again
Here I go again.
Another attempt I try to make.
I pray the suicide angel will come and get me.
I pray for it to be soon.
I don't want to see noon.
Here I go again.
I go and buy the pills.
I go and get the blades.
Down I go to the station.
And hide in the shelter.
Here I hide at the deserted train station.
Only two trains a day.
I shall be gone before then.
Here I go again.
Sitting waiting for death.
As I draw my last breath.
It wont be here we go again
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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My Carnation
I never felt this before,
I don’t know what is on my heart,
All I know is you,
Knowing you makes my life colorful,
You are the one who makes me happy,
You are the one who can change me,
You are the one who relieve my sadness,
You are the one I need,
I need you more than you need me,
I wish I can posses you,
But your heart is his now,
I’ll never get your heart,
Now you’re only a blossom of carnation in my heart,
Maybe you never know how much I love you,
But you must know loving you is a grace for me,
Now I’ll bury my love deep in my heart,
Never let anybody know,
Let it become the lost chapter of my life,
But I’m still hoping for chance,
Hoping someday this carnation will efflorescent,
Efflorescent become a beautiful angel,
Angel of my heart,
I will keep this hope deep in my heart,
I don’t know will the hopes come true?
But I know that I love you,
And I’ll never forget you,
Coz you’re my carnation in my heart,
Carnation that reveal the door in my heart.
poem by Chris Natalius
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One of the points in which I was especially interested was the Jim Crow regulations, that is, the system of separation of the races in street cars and railroad trains.
quote by Ray Stannard Baker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Station
No body is there in the station,
no train is there at present.
Welcome the air to pass.
My son, be cautious
lest the air watch you
and take you out
from the station.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Red Carnation As A Symbol
many want to stand for it
love, yes could be,
fire, fire on a green stalk
from whom? from love
yes, yes it could be
bloody, this red carnation
is bloody
but love, love, yes it could be
love, from the pocket
of your black suited heart
oh, yes, bloody, so bloody,
this red carnation, could still be
love, love, yes it could be
how much harm more can
it do
wrecking havoc on innocent
hearts, these bloody, bloody
victims
of love, love, yes, the red
carnation could still be
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Trains And Boats And Planes
Trains and boats and planes are passing by
They mean a trip to Paris or Rome
To someone else but not for me
The trains and boats and planes
Took you away, away from me
We were so in love, and high above
We had a star to wish upon. Wish
And dreams come true, but not for me
The trains and boats and planes
Took you away, away from me
You are from another part of the world
You had to go back a while and then
You said you soon would return again
I'm waiting here like I promised to
I'm waiting here but where are you?
Trains and boats and planes took you a way
But every time I see them I pray
And if my prayers can cross the sea
The trains and the boats and planes
song performed by by Fountains Of Wayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last Of The Steam-powered Trains
Like the last of the good ol puffer trains,
Im the last of the blood and sweat brigade,
And I dont know where Im going, or why I came.
Im the last of the good old fashioned steam-powered trains.
Im the last of the good old renegades.
All my friends are all middle class and grey,
But I live in a museum, so Im okay.
Im the last of the good old fashioned steam-powered trains.
Like the last of the good ol choo-choo trains,
Huff and puff till I blow this world away,
And Im gonna keep on rollin till my dying day.
Im the last of the good old fashioned steam-powered trains.
Like the last of the good ol puffer trains,
Im the last of the soot and scum[? ] brigade,
And all this peaceful living is drivin me insane.
Im the last of the good old fashioned steam-powered trains.
Im the last of the good old fashioned steam-powered trains.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Pink Carnation
I may walk until I’m fainting, I may write until I’m blinded,
I might drink until my back teeth are afloat,
But I can’t forget my ruin and the happy days behind it,
When I wore a pink carnation in my coat.
Oh, I thought that time could conquer, and I thought my heart would harden,
But it sends a sudden lump into my throat,
When I think of what I have been, and the cottage and the garden,
When I wore a pink carnation in my coat.
God forgive you, girl, and bless you! Let no line of mine distress you –
I am sorry for the bitter lines I wrote;
But remember, and think kindly, for we met and married blindly,
When I wore a pink carnation in my coat.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Meet Me At The Station
(brother williams memphis sanctified singers)
Well if I get to heaven before you do
I will meet you at the station when your train comes along
Ill be watching and waiting, mother dear, for you
I will meet you at the station when your train comes along
Father, when the train
Father, when the train
Meet me at the station when the train comes along
When the train
Father, when the train comes along
I will meet you at the station when your train comes along
Well if my eyes see the glory, before yours do
I will meet you at the station when your train comes along
Ill be watching and waiting, father, for you
I will meet you at the station whe your train comes along
Father, when the train
Father, when the train
Meet me at the station when the train comes along
Father, when the train
Father, when the train comes along
I will meet you at the station when your train comes along
Now if my feet touch the homeline before yours do
I will meet you at the station when the train comes along
Ill be watching and waiting, my brother, for you
I will meet you at the station when the train comes along
When the train
When the train
Meet me at the station when the train comes along
When the train
When the train comes along
Meet me at the station when the train comes along
When the train
When the train
Meet me at the station when the train comes along
When the train
When the train comes along
Meet me at the station when the train comes along
Now if you see gods country before I do
Will you meet me at the station when my train comes along
Will you be there watching, sister, for me
Will you meet me at the station when my train comes along
When my train
When my train
Meet me at the station when my train comes along
When my train
Sister, when my train comes along
Will you meet me at the station when my train comes along
When the train
When the train
Meet me at the station when my train comes along
When the train
Oh, when the train
Meet me at the station when the train comes along
Meet me at the station when the train comes along
Meet me at the station when the train comes along
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Exile
By the sad waters of separation
Where we have wandered by divers ways,
I have but the shadow and imitation
Of the old memorial days.
In music I have no consolation,
No roses are pale enough for me;
The sound of the waters of separation
Surpasseth roses and melody.
By the sad waters of separation
Dimly I hear from an hidden place
The sigh of mine ancient adoration:
Hardly can I remember your face.
If you be dead, no proclamation
Sprang to me over the waste, gray sea:
Living, the waters of separation
Sever for ever your soul from me.
No man knoweth our desolation;
Memory pales of the old delight;
While the sad waters of separation
Bear us on to the ultimate night.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Messy Life...
this house where we live
is just a train station and we are the trains always leaving to places
leaving smoke and
splinters of our
steel wheels
then when the real time comes for change
we only become passengers moving and moving and waving hands
the train station becomes a mark
that we soon forget in the books
on broken ears
and folded pages but we do not remember any page
not even the idea
of the character that we claim to have loved that much
things are messy really
but who cares? we look forward to the flashes of hills and towns
everything fades
like overused denims.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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for J....
I am glad
having said
i could have loved you more...
it is sad
when love withers
due to your suns
when the desert bears more sands
because you hated more
about dreams of waters
rains are strangers
and the caravan of camels
are trains of thoughts
traveling at night
and not knowing what days are...
i am an oasis
and i have no place for you anymore
the leaves of my date palms
do not recognize your songs
anymore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thank You For...
Thank you for walking
Thank you for spending one day,
With a stranger
Good morning. hello! choose a color, carnation
Well walk along.
Down round the pond, up the hill bricks and steeples
Its not all gone... I recall
Thank you for walking
Thank you for spending one day,
With a stranger
Thank you for talking
And showing the way to a stranger
Wining and dining (what a september)
From bags by the river ( I shouldve worn a sweater)
A sun, sail, song (its cooler up here)
We sat on a wall (oh my)
Rest our feet (just a little longer)
Touch our noses
Then slow poke on... oh, I recall
One red carnation
The color for april
And apples
And wine
I suppose it was white... but I needed the rhyme.
As I packed up to leave oh, I noticed the fountain,
The statues hand.
There in her bronzed, moistened, palm
Red carnation
Without you there... I recall
song performed by by Hall & Oates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Handicap
I think I should suit, for I've knowledge minute
Of all tickets, time-tables, and trains;
All speedings and slowings and comings and goings
Are deeply impressed on my brains.
I know just how long the express to Geelong
Stops outside certain stations; and where
All the footwarmers go when the winter winds blow.
So I think I am qualified there.
I can find you a porter, or see that your daughter
Leaves safely for Sydney. My list
Of refreshment-room fare is exclusive and rare
I can tell you what trains you have missed.
I can find little Willie, or mind little Millie
While Mother, with no time to spare,
Goes to buy her a bun. I can tell you what won
All the races. I'm competent there.
I have knowledge unique of what days in the week
Trains stop at your station - or not.
I can tell ('Sat. excepted') what trains are connected
With which. I am au fait with the lot.
On 'Mon. only' or 'Tues.' I have accurate views.
I can tell you on 'Suns.' when and where
You can gather mushrooms or the gold wattle blooms;
So I feel I am competent there.
And, with all this assortment of facts, my deportment,
Impressive, yet friendly, is right.
At my resonant voice all the ladies rejoice;
And fools flock to me, dribbling delight.
My garments I wear with an air debonair;
But one handicap stands in my way:
Tho' in all else I'm 'It,' those who know me admit
That I look simply awful in grey.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Trains Of No Return
YEH, YEH, we need the rain,
YEH, YEH, to wash the trains,
Endless nights,
Tortured days,
Trains of no return.
LO'EL ANI AKRO ANENI
AVKA BACHOL LAILO ANENI
TEN TAL UMOTOR ANENI
HO, ANENI
Don't let them grow again,
Oh, no, not again!
Don't let them roll again,
The trains of no return!
YEH, YEH, we need the rain,
YEH, YEH, to wash the trains,
Endless nights,
Tortured days,
Trains of no return.
LO'EL ANI AKRO ANENI, ANENI, ANENI
SHAM ZA'AKU KOLOT ANENU
BA'ARU OROT ANENU
HU LO YESHAKER
KOL HA'OR, KOL HACHOSHE
SHE YOFER MIKOL RA'U EICH
DIN HA'ELOHIM MOLECH
HEM GAM ME VAKSHIM
YEH, YEH, we need the rain,
YEH, YEH, to wash the trains,
Endless nights,
Tortured days,
Trains of no return.
Don't let them grow again,
Oh, no, not again!
Don't let them roll again,
The trains of no return!
Don't let them grow again,
Oh, no, not again!
Don't let them roll again,
The trains of no return!
YEH, YEH, we need the rain...
song performed by by Ofra Haza
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Runaway Trains
Shes up there all alone
Im down here changing lanes
Her room was dark and cold
Im listening to the waves
And Im depending on time , babe
To get you out of my mind
I guess its one of those things
You can never explain
Like when an angel cries
Like runaway trains
Like one of those times
Thats never the same
Like when something dies
Like runaway trains
She says I understand
Im used to being alone
And holding my own hand
Im stronger than you know
I guess its one of those things
You can never explain
Like when an angel cries
Like runa way trains
Like one of those times
Thats never the same
Like when something dies
Like runaway trains
Dont blame me
I guess its one of those things
You can never explain
Like when an angel cries
Like ru naway trains
Like one of those times
Thats never the same
Like when something dies
Like runaway trains
song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Trains
Tunnelling through the night, the trains pass
in a splendour of power, with a sound like thunder
shaking the orchards, waking
the young from a dream, scattering like glass
the old mens' sleep, laying
a black trail over the still bloom of the orchards;
the trains go north with guns.
Strange primitive piece of flesh, the heart laid quiet
hearing their cry pierce through its thin-walled cave
recalls the forgotten tiger,
and leaps awake in its old panic riot;
and how shall mind be sober,
since blood's red thread still binds us fast in history?
Tiger, you walk through all our past and future,
troubling the children's sleep'; laying
a reeking trail across our dreams of orchards.
Racing on iron errands, the trains go by,
and over the white acres of our orchards
hurl their wild summoning cry, their animal cry….
the trains go north with guns.
poem by Judith Wright
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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