In the carriages of the past you can't go anywhere.
quote by Maxim Gorky
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Experts In Their Chosen Fields
Does it make much sense,
To prolong discussions in debate...
Over the purchase of horse drawn carriages,
By those hired to cut expenses.
When arguments focus upon,
The number of people that can be carried...
In the carriages per trip with payments made,
To then believe the horses...
Are unneccessary.
And to cut them out of the budget,
Would not be missed by those who trip!
Somehow the idea looks good on paper,
To those proposing this.
However...
To eliminate the most valued and needed ingredient,
To regard it as unimportant in the mix of things...
And to have others agree to it,
May be the basis as to why those appointed...
Should have never been considered as experts,
In their chosen fields of endeavor.
But they were selected for their effectiveness,
From others determined unqualified.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Steam Dreams
In this day of electric and diesel, very rarely is seen,
A shining locomotive, which is powered by steam.
Back in the days, when my parents were born,
The sight of a steam train was quite the norm.
Whenever a steam train catches my eye,
I stand, watching in awe, as it passes by.
‘Oh wow! Look! ’ I say, as I point a finger,
And the memory of it in my mind will linger.
Steam trains will never completely die out,
As, thankfully, there’s still quite a few about.
About a steam train, there’s something really quite dramatic.
And at the chance of riding on one, people are often ecstatic.
I remember seeing The Flying Scotsman at Salisbury station,
And I stood there marvelling at it with such great admiration.
The engine and all of its carriages just looked so smart.
The sight of such a train, never fails to quicken the heart.
Steam trains are so very elegant in their style.
To spot one, enthusiasts will travel many a mile.
It strange to think that years ago, they were all the rage,
When, they are such a very rare sight, in this day and age.
The sight of the world famous Orient Express,
Is one which will never ever fail to impress.
Through the windows, you can see the plush seats,
Where excited passengers will sit down and eat.
On board, the historic carriages of brown and cream,
They serve expensive champagne and gourmet cuisine.
Sat in a world of pure indulgence, passengers glide,
Through the green and pleasant British countryside.
The carriages have all been restored to their former glory;
If they could talk, I’m sure they could all share quite a story.
The carriages have been described as ‘palaces on wheels’,
And I would really love to know just how that feels.
Still being a very rare sight in these modern times,
I fancy taking a trip on a steam train, to sit and dine.
I guess you would have to pay quite a princely sum,
But I think it would be worth it, just to travel on one.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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When I was at school I used to scream in trains, in those concertina things between the carriages. I used to try to be so good that sometimes I couldn't bear it any more.
quote by Jane Birkin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Don't Know Where The Past Is Gone
I don’t know where the past is gone
I only know most of my own life is over-
I don’t know where the past has gone
I only know so many people I loved
Are no longer here and will never be here again-
I don’t know where the past has gone
I only know that that chance I had that hope for so many years
Can never be mine in the same way again-
I don’t know where the past has gone
So many moments of beauty and love and opportunity missed and longing unrealized-
I don’t know where the past has gone
And what of it I should miss
And why I should long for it so.
I don’t know where the past has gone
And where my life was lost and why I did not do better in it-
I don’t know where the past has gone
And what will be when for me
Everything is only the Past gone
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Ancient Recall
Ancient days that are all gone
I never had the chance to look upon.
I've heard of them.
I've read of them.
So why do I feel drawn
to these ancient times
That I do not know?
They are fascinating
and I can't let them go.
Days of horse-drawn carriages
and dresses that reach to the floor,
Nights lit up by lanterns,
Seclusion near a sycamore,
Music played by string quartets,
beautiful music by four.
I visualize all these things.
Have I lived this life before?
Somewhere from this vast universe
I hear a somber voice.
It speaks to me in sad remembrance
and says to me 'Rejoice.
All the days were your choice.
Enjoy them as you did in the past
for these too shall not last.
You will be drawn some day to them,
fascinated once more
by days that you'll call ancient,
ancient days of yore.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Horses In The City
they walk the horses home at night right by my
window they pull their carriages along busy city
streets it's from another time it's like a lullaby but i
don't think that i can sleep tonight so i count the
streetlights i count the stars i make a wish and
wonder where you are i wonder if i'll live long
enough to feel again help me 'cause i'm falling out
of grace i hang my head and hide my face i don't
know what it is i just feel out of place like horses in
the city i played the game i dropped the ball i lost
another friend i gained a future but i can't see
where the future ends i'd write a letter or write a
song but once again my voice just comes out
wrong i wonder if i'll live long enough to sing again
but they don't seem frightened as the cars go
speeding by so why am i so terrified to close my
eyes tonight i'm just afraid there's no time no time
this time they walk the horses home at night right
by my window they pull their carriages along busy
city streets i wonder if they'll live to run without the
reins again
song performed by by Nina Gordon from Tonight And The Rest Of My Life
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Opportunity Glares With No Preferences There
Unable to agree or compromise,
On what values and standards...
Should be left in a past,
Where all of our ancestors thrived.
Are those positioning themselves to delay...
The seriousness of what is needed today,
To uplift and move humanity forward...
In a less thieving,
Greeding to deceive leaving grief kind of way.
And promising with all of us,
To visit with a permanent stay!
That a world economy has dictated...
A bust from a boom...
Heads directly our way.
There are those on their knees still praying...
To awaken to see,
Horse drawn carriages on cobbledstoned streets.
Unable to agree or compromise,
What values and standards...
Should be left in a past,
Where all of our ancestors thrived and survived,
When gaslamps on poles lit the night skies.
May be a political ploy to get dwindling votes,
Some stubborned folks...
Believe will keep them praised in adoring eyes.
But...
Enjoying titles along with prestige,
Will not prevent the reality of circumstances...
Coming quicker to them than their fantasies can be released.
With decisions to make to let go of pretensions.
While an opportunity glares...
With no preferences there,
For anyone to preach or hesitate in debating long speeches...
Which choices are better,
Than the ones they should not keep!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The sensors have many potential practical uses - in Government buildings, train carriages, cargo containers, on a soldier's lapel - and are a thousand times cheaper than current sensors that are used for the same purpose.
quote by Anne Campbell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The 6.15 from Paddington - Steam Days
The 6.15 from Paddinton goes chugging down the track,
The Guard blows on his whistle, and the engine whistles back.
The carriages are following, swaying as they go,
The passengers are also swaying to and fro.
Through Maidenhead, Reading and Newbury in Berks,
The monster travels onwards, with steam, grey smoke and sparks.
Past Swindon down in Wiltshire and then Chipping Sodbury,
Through tunnels, over bridges, always in a 'big' hurry.
The countryside goes whooshing by, as we travel on,
With fields, lanes and cottages, one moment seen, then gone.
Villages, farms and valleys, tree clad hills and downs,
Flashing past the windows, with 'swishy swooshy' sounds.
It now approaches Bristol, the driver applies the brakes,
With screeching and with creaking, what a hullabaloo it makes.
It's reached it's destination where the Porter and the Clerk,
Will check on all the passengers, before they disembark.
The loud station announcer declares she's the next train out,
The fireman stokes the boiler, and the green flag's waved about.
The train is off and whistles, as it thunders out of view,
The trails of smoke are lifting and the sun is breaking through.
The 6.15 from Paddington is now on her way to Wales,
To Cardiff and to Swansea, for the shops and summer sales.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Sobre Las Olas (On The Waves)
The boys in striped knitware
make the waves sprout--is it a storm?
Everything coos and the bathing girl
consults the mirror of the skies
Waltz, emerald carriages
As a rosebush swells its sides
Once more on the merry-go-round
Spring at the bottom of the sea.
poem by Jean Cocteau
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Luxury is no longer displayed in buildings and external decorations. The carriages are plain, while the servants are less numerous, the fine clothes out of fashion, expensive horses are no longer kept, diamonds are at a discount, and jewellery has fallen into discredit.
quote by Madame de Sartory
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Joy on the Trains at Jubilee Time
At the station, the platform is packed.
Soon our train is heading down the track.
As our London-bound train slowly approaches,
I am surprised by the evident lack of coaches.
The ensuing rush to get on, is all rather manic.
The Guard blows his whistle and everyone panics.
Upon the platform, there's soon no one left,
But many new passengers are out of breath.
Once onboard, there is standing room only:
There's certainly no chance of being lonely.
Of vacant seats, I see there is a major lack,
So I stand, holding on to the luggage rack.
Some people are huddled up by the doors,
Whilst others plump for a seat on the floor.
At the next station, they don't release all the doors:
Our already packed train can only take a few more.
By the time that our train reaches Woking,
It's a real nightmare - I wish I was joking,
But passengers are left abandoned on the platform:
Their faces disappointed, they all look so forlorn.
I overhear a number of passengers complain
About the distinct lack of carriages on our train.
During my journey, I spend most of my time
Thinking up sentences which, nicely, rhyme.
By the time our train pulls in to Waterloo,
With my new poem, I am almost through.
We're ten minutes late and the Guard explains
This was due to passengers boarding the train.
When I head home again, it is getting quite late.
And the number of carriages now totals eight.
No one is standing: everybody has a seat.
I travel home in comfort. Oh, what a treat!
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Past
Past is past.
It never comes.
It helps us something to learn.
Past lives may hurt us.
But It never ruins us.
Don't fight the past.
Let it go, always be simple, always be inspired.
There is no point going with the past.
There is the point going with present.
Past determines nothing.
Present determines something.
poem by Yash Pradhan
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Breath by Breath
Our moments are precious and
Our time is now.
Use it wisely and use it well!
There is no connecting the past
And future. The presence is the
in-between and only lasts but
Less than a breath.
The presence is so fast,
a blink of an eye and it is the past!
Then are we really living our future with
each inhale and our past goes out
with each exhale?
Are is it really just a pretence of presence?
Future - Past,
Future - Past,
Future - Past!
poem by JDarrell Kirkley
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My Past
I can never let go of my past because my past has marked me
Every time I look down
Every time I look over
There is my past
The notches
The bold the non-mistakable scars
…the scars
My past
Each and every one has a story
Each and every one has a memory
Each and every one has brought tears to my eyes
For no story nor memory are of happiness, triumph, or glory
No, they are of fear, anxiety, self-hatred, paranoia, and loneliness
I can never let go of my past because my past will always be part of me
poem by Scarlet Mo Chroi
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Frozen, Forever Searching!
she killed her baby
with a crack pipe;
lying on the floor,
watching roach drawn carriages
take the prince and the princess
to the ball!
the bruises on her face
throbbing in the dim light;
the dull ache of faith
devoured by demons too
real to shake...
her baby's lips frozen,
forever searching!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Request To The Graces
Ponder my words, if so that any be
Known guilty here of incivility;
Let what is graceless, discomposed, and rude,
With sweetness, smoothness, softness be endued:
Teach it to blush, to curtsey, lisp, and show
Demure, but yet full of temptation, too.
Numbers ne'er tickle, or but lightly plea{e,
Unless they have some wanton carriages:--
This if ye do, each piece will here be good
And graceful made by your neat sisterhood.
poem by Robert Herrick
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The Graveyard In The Sky Ii
Dad's, mothers, grandmothers, grandfathers, brother, sisters, aunt, and Uncles died at their home here on earth some time ago
And then they were all buried in the graveyard in the sky
But there in the sky nobody steals the grave in the graveyard
Also there are trees in the graveyard in the sky and flowers inthe garden
But the road that takes to the graveyard in the sky is paved
And sometimes you will see the memonights in their horse carriages Passing by
poem by Aldo Kraas
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The Graveyard In The Sky
Dad's, mothers, grandmothers, grandfathers, brother, sisters, aunt, and Uncles died at their home here on earth some time ago
And then they were all buried in the graveyard in the sky
But their in the sky nobody steals the grave in the graveyard
Also there are trees in the graveyard in the sky and flowers inthe garden
But the road that takes to the graveyard in the sky is paved
And sometimes you will see the memonights in their horse carriages Passing by
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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