On A Railway Platform
The world
Becomes small
On a railway platform
Irrespective of
Cast, color or creed
Old and young
Rich and poor
Known, unknown
Meet
Arrive and depart
The loved ones
Are received and sent off
Tears of happiness
And sorrow flow
Bustles
With noise and activity
Anxiety leaves
When the train arrives
Turns in to place with
Death like silence
Once it whistles
Leaves
For its destination
The world
Becomes still
On a railway platform
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Platform 33
Platform 33
~
I sit waiting on the platform
Watching lives and souls rattle by
From and to the unknown
So many stories being written
I have forgotten why I wait
Am I due to catch my train
Or greet my love from another
Sat world watching
Noticing moments in others lives
The smiles and laughter
The tears and pain
I am not sure if I am effected
Or just taking notes
Making my own stories
While I wait on the platform
A wind whistles through
A slight chill to the air
I stay sat, watching, waiting
Trying to remember
How I got here
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The New Year Train
We're waiting at the platform in the New Railway Station
There the train comes and no destination?
And the banner shows it's a Youth Train!
I checked our tattered season-tickets
Old age's there and faded.
I was so sad when she asked;
'Darling, we could hide in the Goods compartment.'
*I turn but do not extricate myself, Confused, a past-reading, another but with darkness yet.-Walt Whitman
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Second Class wait here
At suburban railway stations--you may see them as you pass--
there are signboards on the platform saying 'Wait here second class,'
And to me the whirr and thunder and the cluck of running-gear
Seem to be forever saying 'Second class wait here--
Wait here second class
Second class wait here.'
Seem to be forever saying, 'Second class wait here.'
Yes, the second class were waiting in the days of serf and prince,
And the second class are waiting--they've been waiting ever since,
There are gardens in the background, and the line is bare and drear,
Yet they wait beneath a signboard, sneering 'Second class wait here.'
I have waited oft in winter, in the mornings dark and damp,
When the asphalt platform glistened underneath the lonely lamp,
Glistened on the brick-faced cutting 'Sellum's Soap' and 'Blower's Beer,'
Glistened on enamelled signboards with their 'Second class wait here.'
And the others seemed like burglars, slouched and muffled to the throats,
Standing round apart and silent in their shoddy overcoats;
And the wind among the poplars, and the wires that thread the air,
Seemed to be forever snarling, snarling 'Second class wait there.'
Out beyond a further suburb, 'neath a chimney-stack alone
Lay the works of Grinder Brothers, with a platform of their own;
And I waited there and suffered, waited there for many a day,
Slaved beneath a phantom signboard, telling all my hopes to stay.
Ah! a man must feel revengeful for a boyhood such as mine.
God! I hate the very houses near the workshop by the line;
And the smell of railway stations, and the roar of running gear,
And the scornful-seeming signboards, saying 'Second class wait here.'
There's a train, with Death for driver, that is ever going past;
There will be no class compartments when it's 'all aboard' at last
For the long white jasper platform with an Eden in the rear;
And there won't be any signboards, saying 'Second class wait here'
poem by Henry Lawson
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Poor Paddy
[the pogues version]
-----------------------------------------
In eighteen hundred and forty-one
The corduroy breeches I put on
Me corduroy breeches I put on
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-two
From hartlepool I moved to crewe
Found myself a job to do
A working on the railway
I was wearing corduroy breeches
Digging ditches, pulling switches
Dodging pitches, as I was
Working on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-three
I broke the shovel across me knee
I went to work for the company
On the leeds to selby railway
I was wearing corduroy breeches
Digging ditches, pulling switches
Dodging pitches, as I was
Working on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-four
I landed on the liverpool shore
My belly was empty me hands were raw
With working on the railway, the railway
Im sick to my guts of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-five
When daniel oconnell he was alive
When daniel oconnell he was alive
And working on the railway
I was wearing corduroy breeches
Digging ditches, pulling switches
Dodging pitches, as I was
Working on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-six
I changed my trade to carrying bricks
I changed my trade to carrying bricks
To work upon the railway
I was wearing corduroy breeches
Digging ditches, pulling switches
Dodging pitches, as I was
Working on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-seven
Poor paddy was thinking of going to heaven
The old bugger was thinking of going to heaven
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im sick to my death of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
I was wearing corduroy breeches
Digging ditches, pulling switches
Dodging pitches, as I was
Working on the railway
[paddy works on the railway]
---------------------------------------
In eighteen hundred and forty-one
My corduroy breeches I put on
My corduroy breeches I put on
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-two
I didnt know what I should do
I didnt know what I should do
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-three
I sailed away across the sea
I sailed away across the sea
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-four
I landed on columbias shore
I landed on columbias shore
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-five
When daniel oconnell he was alive
When daniel oconnell he was alive
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-six
I made my trade to carrying bricks
I made my trade to carrying bricks
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-seven
Poor paddy was thinking of going to heaven
Poor paddy was thinking of going to heaven
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-eight
I learned to drink my whiskey straight
I learned to drink my whiskey straight
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tea Is A Platform
Tea is a platform
Tea is a platform
Platform to finalise deals
Deals of businesses
Businesses of sale and purchase
Sale and purchase of commodities
Commodities like bullion, cereals, tea
Tea for sale to customers
Customers drink tea at some platform
Tea is a platform
Platform to make friends
Friends to have co-operation
Co-operation to work together
Work together at a platform
Tea is a platform
Platform to deal with spouse
Spouses take tea together
Together to refresh their mood
Fresh moods of spouses
make a platform
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Chatting Today
I worked for the union and on my very first communion, you know,
It never ever, ever, ever worked out right
So I spent the night sleepin on the railway
I worked for the foundry and man my mind it nearly drowned
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
It never, it could never work out right
So I said so long, amigo. good night and slept on the railway
The railway, theres no better way, ooh the railway
And its nice to talk to you today
I worked for the miller, a very, very nice type of fell-a {fellow}
But I could see that it was never gonna work out right
So I split and spent the night sleeping on the railway
I worked in the subway arc, oh yeah, yeah
You know it never, no no never, no never no, ever no, worked out right
So I said so long and spent the night on the railway
The railway, give me a bottle of whiskey, ooh the railway
Ooh, theres nothin like the railway
And Id like to thank someone for mascara and good things that I done
And for the time ya spent and the friendship begun
And most of all starry nights on the railway
Ooh, I dont know no better way
Than just, ooh, lyin back an drifting away
I can hear it, I can hear it
song performed by by Thin Lizzy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chatting Today
I worked for the union and on my very first communion, you know,
It never ever, ever, ever worked out right
So I spent the night sleepin on the railway
I worked for the foundry and man my mind it nearly drowned
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
It never, it could never work out right
So I said so long, amigo. good night and slept on the railway
The railway, theres no better way, ooh the railway
And its nice to talk to you today
I worked for the miller, a very, very nice type of fell-a {fellow}
But I could see that it was never gonna work out right
So I split and spent the night sleeping on the railway
I worked in the subway arc, oh yeah, yeah
You know it never, no no never, no never no, ever no, worked out right
So I said so long and spent the night on the railway
The railway, give me a bottle of whiskey, ooh the railway
Ooh, theres nothin like the railway
And Id like to thank someone for mascara and good things that I done
And for the time ya spent and the friendship begun
And most of all starry nights on the railway
Ooh, I dont know no better way
Than just, ooh, lyin back an drifting away
I can hear it, I can hear it
song performed by by Thin Lizzy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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But When The Flames Of Fires Touch Your Eyes
The leaves are gone; the world’s gone to sleep
The grass is brown the earth is dark and bare
And if you look beyond that silent peak
Silence is there
Then in the morning when the world’s young
When all the children still sigh in their sleep
Before the fog is lifted from the ground
Silence creeps
But when the flames of fires touch your eyes
When everything you’ve loved leaves you alone
When even moons refuse to wax and wane
Silence moans
So I will walk upon this sidewalk loud
And sing old songs that have no melody
In hopes that with this lonely clamoring
Silence leaves
poem by Ben Paynter
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Mans train of thoughts [sex]
Always leaves platform for two
Mindful every three minutes.
haiku by Ken e Hall
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British Railway Blues
I'm standing in my platform shoes
Wailing and moaning the railroad blues!
It happens again and again,
Waiting and waiting for a train
(Usually in the pouring rain!) ,
What a pain!
But it gives you the time
To make up a rhyme
And wonder if it's really a crime
To trespass on the railway line.
Didn't you read what the notice said?
What a miserable fate
To be struck stone dead
By a train that's late!
Come on, let's quit,
I'm sick of it!
Don't swear or cuss
Or make any fuss,
Next time we'll bloody well go by bus!
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Cross-tie Walker
I went down to the station, just to take a ride.
I went down to the station, just to take a ride.
Found myself on a flatcar, yesterday behind.
Pullin out from the platform, there was no brass band.
I pulled out from the platform, nobody raised a hand.
And there were no tears of regret from my runaway train.
Train, train, train, train.
Got no sand in my pocket, you know I aint tied down.
Aint no sand in my pocket, never do sit down.
Im just a cross-tie walker, where the freight trains run.
Run, run, run, run.
If you see me acomin, dont you waste my time.
If you see me acomin, dont you waste my time.
cause theres more miles between us than the santa fe line.
Run, run, run, run.
Mm-mm-mm-mm-mm....
song performed by by Creedence Clearwater Revival
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I like the rain
when I met you
it was a heavy rain
approached there my train
was a beautiful summer
on the platform the drummer
drummed and a sun
came out a fun
of hot rays began.
I didn't get
onto a train,
stopped me eyes
it was a day really
exceptionally nice .
and our fun
lasts as soon,
as is lighting the sun.
I am going to the platform
and I am waiting
perhaps a weather
will change
and a rain
will start
being
falling down...
poem by Maria Barbara Korynt
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The Newport Railway
Success to the Newport Railway,
Along the braes of the Silvery Tay,
And to Dundee straghtway,
Across the Railway Bridge o' the Silvery Tay,
Which was opened on the 12th of May,
In the year of our Lord 1879,
Which will clear all expenses in a very short time
Because the thrifty housewives of Newport
To Dundee will often resort,
Which will be to them profit and sport,
By bringing cheap tea, bread, and jam,
And also some of Lipton's ham,
Which will make their hearts feel light and gay,
And cause them to bless the opening day
Of the Newport Railway.
The train is most beautiful to be seen,
With its long, white curling cloud of steam,
As the Train passes on her way
Along the bonnie braes o' the Silvery Tay.
And if the people of Dundee
Should feel inclined to have a spree,
I am sure 'twill fill their hearts with glee
By crossing o'er to Newport,
And there they can have excellent sport,
By viewing the scenery beautiful and gay,
During the livelong summer day,
And then they can return at night
With spirits light and gay,
By the Newport Railway,
By night or by day,
Across the Railway Gridge o' the Silvery Tay.
Success to the undertakers of the Newport Railway,
Hoping the Lord will their labours repay,
And prove a blessing to the people
For many a long day
Who live near by Newport
On the bonnie braes o' the Silvery Tay.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Death is when....
Death is when my loved ones must depart
Death is a sharp pain in my heart
Death is this feeling of permanent sadness and pain
Death is when my loved ones have gone away
Death is the call to heaven or hell
Death is an eternal mansion or cell
Death is the lesson i need to learn about
Death is a loss, without a doubt
Death is this unhappy feeling i have
Death is pleasant on my behalf
Death is the day i end my life
Death is when i give up the fight
Death is happiness to the world around me
Death started when i gained my life
Death can be helped along with this knife
Death is where i shall go
Death is close, i kno
Death willl come fast
Death is vast
Death is what i see
Death lives inside of me
Death is joy to me
Death has come for me
Death is gonna take me
Death will stop my misery
Death loves my company
Death ends the pain
Death takes me on that train
Death is near
Death is finally here
Sleep not deep
On the railway station
Train was comes and
Go...
Time was move...
Pasangers are
Walking plat form
Coffey shop bysy
Books shop hory
Railway station sleep well
At sunday...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Four Seasons
Maple leaves of yesterday
Rainbow leaves of morrow
Autumn strolls on its way
Time it fails to borrow.
Ice crystals of yesterday
Snow flowers of morrow
Winter roves on a dray
Time it fails to borrow.
Oak leaves of yesterday
Verdant leaves of morrow
April flows into May
Time it fails to borrow.
Blue blossoms of yesterday
Forget-me-not of morrow
Summer rides a railway
Love overcomes sorrow.
poem by Paul Hartal
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At Old Railroad Stations
At these tiny old railroad stations,
Which my own train long ago left behind,
I fear for the pressing crush of people
Departing, who pass on this stretch of track.
And I would like to see myself rise
Above the ones waiting on the platform,
So that I am as far as I can be now
On my journey in this rattlebox life,
So that I know bridges and tunnels,
The sea-, lake-, rock-, and cityscapes,
So my eyes and ears are pierced with knowing,
With those unknown in their seats,
So that they'll still be sitting in Times' train,
Brooding at the window, watching sparks fly
And the flashing of the tragic signals,
When I long got off at the destination.
poem by Franz Werfel
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Secret World
I stood in this sunsheltered place
til I could see the face behind the face
All that had gone before had left no trace
Down by the railway siding
In our secret world, we were colliding
All the places we were hiding love
What was it we were thinking of?
So I watch you wash your hair
Underwater, unaware
And the plane flies through the air
Did you think you didnt have to choose it
That I alone could win or lose it
In all the places we were hiding love
What was it we were thinking of?
In this house of make believe
Divided in two, like adam and eve
You put out and I recieve
{chorus:}
Down by the railway siding
In our secret world, we were colliding
In all the places we were hiding love
What was it we were thinking of?
Oh the wheel is turning spinning round and round
And the house is crubling but the stairways stand
With no guilt and no shame, no sorrow or blame
Whatever it is, we are all the same
Making it up in our secret world [x3]
Shaking it up
Breaking it up
Making it up in our secret world
Seeing things that were not there
On a wing on a prayer
In this state of disrepair
[chorus]
Shh, listen...
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Railroad Station
JUST a very common thing -
Shouts and whistles, bells that ring,
Just a platform in the rain
And a slowly moving train;
Just a woman dressed in black
Standing by a station-hack,
Gazing with her eyes profound
As the train goes outward bound;
And her bearing does not say
Who it is that goes away,
One who made her pulses stir,
Or a guest who wearied her.
poem by Alice Duer Miller
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We are all beautiful
We are
All gods’ creation
Male or female
Short or tall
Whatever is our color?
Cast or creed
People from
All countries alike
However different
We may look
Irrespective of
Language we speak
The food we eat
Customs and rituals
We follow
We are all beautiful
Loved by god
After all we are
Gods Children
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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