Then There Was You!
clouds hanging, frozen still,
banging the tool shed door.
sunlight colors the morning
with a hundred things to do.
cars speed by going nowhere,
the railroad tracks are empty.
the old store building creaks,
the windows boarded over.
the ghosts of small town heroes
going to and fro unseen.
a different world, a different me,
and then there was you!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Related quotes
The Great Empty
closed!
out of business!
building for rent,
or sale!
22 vacant buildings on one street!
small-town America.
even the sidewalks are deserted...
except for paper cups,
and cigarette butts blowing
in the breeze...
empty windows,
boarded up doors....
the echo of voices
from the past,
from another day...
lost to the great empty!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thr Railroad Tracks
Who lived across the railroad tracks?
A few of us whites, but mostly blacks.
These railroad tracks without even knowing
separated my town and kept it growing
into a segregated place.
I used to listen for the sound of the train.
As it rolled on by, it would never remain.
It just kept rolling to where it was going.
The engineer waved. The smoke kept blowing
into a segregated place.
Even when the trains stopped the rolling
the tracks will still there.They were controlling
the thinking of the people in our town.
So they kept the tracks there, never tore them down
in our segregated place.
Some were on the right side of the tracks, you see.
Some were on the wrong side of the tracks, like me.
They never took the tracks down from 60 years ago.
And the town I grew up in doesn't want to know
it's a segregated place.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Muddy Footprints
blue lights in the parking lot,
faceless cars speed by
on rain swept streets....
ghosts march in pedantic rhythm,
in the land of 'no touch, no feel'....
the gas pumps beeping,
always beeping.... shadows
feed shadows... a stray dog
dead on the side of the road....
'can you spare a coupla dollars? '....
heads turn, and walk away....
a young couple walking the tracks....
going nowhere, hand in hand.
you can smell the vacant buildings,
can hear the glass break
on the boarded up windows.....
has anyone a hand, an eye to eye,
muddy footprints where
life should have been!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Painter’s Agony
I want to paint that river
And the scene behind it
The boat and the boatmen
I know everything about
That river
My association with the river
Many a hundred memories
Evenings and sunshines
Floods and slow water
I have lived my life
On the bank of that river
I want to paint
Paint it with the most beautiful colors
I want to borrow some colors
From the colors of paradise
And I love the town
That lives beside the river
Old and dusty
Where shall I take you
In that small town
Every nook and corner
Shall tell you that it knows me
I want to paint that town
In colors of heaven
I want to carry a few children
And take them on a tour
I want to see the town with their eyes
And then go to the riverbank
And meditate for a while
Drink the wine of nature
And get lost into the world of beauty
And flow with the river
Enter every house
My heart throbs in harmony
With every heart in the town
Give me colors divine
Colors from the other world
For I want to paint
That river and that town
(This poem is about a small town on the bank of river Indus)
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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The House
For many years, the house
stood empty and forlorn.
The windows had been boarded
preventing the sunlight coming in.
No welcoming mat lay by the door;
laughter was a thing of the past
as spiders spun their webs
within the gloomy silence.
The house stood empty
abandoned by most living things
and there were those who said
spooky goings on went on
after night fell in there.
No one could prove it
because no one would stay there.
Only the fool hardy
would ever enter after dark.
The paintwork pealed
and the front door creaked
if someone dared to open it.
They say the house is haunted,
but no one knew
by what or who.
The house began to crumble
as each season came to pass.
The glory of its birth
lay somewhere in the past
and now the crumbling walls
would never reveal
any of the secrets that it knew.
Then a fire started
by a hand unseen
and the house finally died
within its own funeral pyre
15 March 2011
poem by David Harris
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Railroad Man
I feel like an old railroad man
Ridin' out on the Bluemont Line
Hummin' along Old Dominion Blues
Not much to see, and not much left to lose
And I know I can walk along the tracks
It may take a little longer
But I know how to find my way back
I feel like an old railroad man
Who's really tried the best that he can
To make his life add up to something good
But this engine no long burns on wood
And I guess I may never understand
The times that I live in
Are not made for a railroad man
I feel like an old railroad man
Gettin' on board at the end of an age
The station's empty and the whistle blows
Things are faster now
This train is just too slow
And I know I can walk along the tracks
It may take a little longer
But I know how to find my way back
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Call For A Creative Home
A derelict building stands
Windows boarded, gardens overgrown
A gate firmly locked
Keeps the world at distance
Turning the building into a tomb
Of wasted potential
Artists gather looking for a place
A home to share their craft
That they may entertain the world
Spread the love of their art
They are met with stony walls
And the locked gates of a tomb
Those who can make the difference
The holders of the keys
Sit in their well lit, warm offices
Dipping biscuits into cups of tea
Seemingly unready to listen
Or just make a decision
A derelict building stands
Gate locked, windows boarded
The artists gather looking for space
They ask for a helping hand
But those who could help
Sit silently in their offices
Dipping biscuits into tea
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Small Town U.S.A
Pizza parlors,
muffler shops
7 Elevens
and I-hops
Boarded windows,
shuttered stores
Cracked windows,
unlocked doors
Dry cleaners,
Laundromats
Empty motels
Vacant flats
One street towns
No traffic lights
No city sounds
Few family fights
Friendly dogs
Friendlier people
Highest thing
Grey slate steeple
Houses with porches
rustic family farm
Weather vanes on roofs
Old American charm
Grain silos
Rusty water tower
Windmills
Water power
Sincere supplication
Sunday school prayer
Organ music, seeping out
Rising into clover scented air
Small town America
Barns and bales of hay
People still say “Good Morning”…in
…Small town U.S.A…
poem by David Whalen
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Half Drunk In Jesus Town
church bells ringing
down by the mission
walking these streets again
down by the old feed store,
and the row of empty buildings,
listening to the ghosts of the past.
the railroad tracks stand silent,
that old train dont run anymore.
here and there people walking,
aint nobody talking,
stray dogs and broken bottles,
stopped to light one last cigarette.
i can still hear my mother calling,
can still see my daddy's tired eyes,
can still hear the preacher, and
them old songs
but you cant take me down
to the water anymore.
old signs falling in the wind
take one last draw from the bottle
cant bring back what you never had
half drunk in Jesus town.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Railroad
Up each morning at five oclock,
Seem like the noon-day sun aint never gonna stop.
The work is hard in a railroad yard,
Hey, hey, gotta make it today to punch a time card.
Workin on the railroad.
Chorus
Oh, you know, the railroad is a mighty good line,
Come on and ride the railroad, one more time.
Oh, you know, the railroad is a mighty good line,
Come on and ride the railroad, one more time.
Dirt and sweat, runnin down my back,
Workin on the railroad.
Work all day long up and down the railroad tracks.
Workin on the railroad.
Im a God fearing man, and with many I stand,
Workin on the railroad.
And with God weve been working, all hand in hand.
Workin on the railroad.
Chorus
Oh, you know, the railroad is a mighty good line,
Workin on the railroad.
Come on and ride the railroad, one more time.
Workin on the railroad.
Oh, you know, the railroad is a mighty good line,
Come on and ride the railroad, one more time.
song performed by by Grand Funk Railroad
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Moment Of You
small tiny prayers,
passing thoughts,
a moment of you....
maybe just the sunlight
sifting through the blinds,
the wind blowing a branch
against the windowpane.
the sound of the train
on the distant tracks....
the ticking of the clock
in the dead stillness.
a child laughing and talking,
walking down the road....
a sudden pain in my heart,
that lingers, then is gone.
an empty bird's nest
on the ground beside the shed....
a stray cat begging for food....
small tiny prayers...
clouds in the afternoon sky...
water dripping, an old spicket......
a moment of you!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Town Ghost
Five of us were playing cards
while outside someone was banging
as if, they were constructing something.
I got up to see who it was,
but there was no one there.
I scratched my head and returned
to the hand I was playing.
About a half an hour later,
we heard someone walking about.
With torch in hand, I went again to investigate.
Again, there was no one there.
I shone the torch up and down the street.
The footsteps had stopped by now.
We could only guess it was the ghost,
which roams around our little town.
It hurts no one and no one is afraid of it.
Some say it our old friend Jock.
Other say it is someone else.
Unless one of us sees it, we will never be sure.
Whoever it is we wish
they would show themselves occasionally,
so we would then know whom to say goodnight to.
5 February 2009
Authors Note:
I belong to a small Western re-enactment town called Deadwood.
The town is haunted by an arrangement of ghosts, none of them harmful. A number us have witnessed several unusual things. The poem recounts an incident, which happened one night a few years ago when five of us were playing card in the back of one the building at gone midnight.
poem by David Harris
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They'll Debate!
small town, vacant store fronts,
set ablaze, and burning,
early morning February sun!
people stand and gawk,
by the old tracks, train forgotten...
childhood memories, up in smoke.
they call it America,
the land of opportunity;
freedom weeps, no one hears!
cars built overseas
powered by Middle East oil,
race by, headed for Walmart...
and tonight they'll debate
over family values and taxes.
somewhere, a church bell ringing,
and someone goes to bed hungry!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Tinged With Oil
sunlight dancing
on a puddle of rainwater
tinged with oil....
empty cars locked,
rusting in the warmth.
empty bottles, cigarette butts,
and ghosts walking quickly,
going nowhere, leaving a trail
of nothing behind.
stray dogs, beat down stop signs,
people afraid to touch,
much less to feel...
sunlight dancing
on a puddle of rainwater
tinged with oil....
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Boarded Up
Boarded up
Yeah, were boarded up
Nailed up shut
Yeah, were boarded up
Music venue has had its day
Death watch beetle band moved in to play
Groups dont come down from london way
Cos were boarded up
Yeah, were nailed up shut
Two-by-four-ded up
Yeah, were boarded up
Touring companies stay away
Rats and mice take the centre stage
Carpenters mate have a field day
Boarded up
Yeah, were nailed up shut
[dont mind me at all]
Two-by-four-ded up
Yeah, were boarded up
Pubs and clubs had the chop
Making way for a superstore plot
Some town planner didnt know when to stop
Boarded up
Come and see us
Boarded up
Dont wait too long, now cos were
Boarding up
Yeah, boarded up...
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Small Town
Well I was born in a small town
And I live in a small town
Probly die in a small town
Oh, those small communities
All my friends are so small town
My parents live in the same small town
My job is so small town
Provides little opportunity
Educated in a small town
Taught the fear of jesus in a small town
Used to daydream in that small town
Another boring romantic thats me
But Ive seen it all in a small town
Had myself a ball in a small town
Married an l.a. doll and brought her to this small town
Now shes small town just like me
No I cannot forget where it is that I come from
I cannot forget the people who love me
Yeah, I can be myself here in this small town
And people let me be just what I want to be
Got nothing against a big town
Still hayseed enough to say
Look whos in the big town
But my bed is in a small town
Oh, and thats good enough for me
Well I was born in a small town
And I can breathe in a small town
Gonna die in this small town
And thats probly where theyll bury me
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cars Are Cars
Words & music by paul simon 1983
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Similarly made. similarly sold
In a motorcade. abandoned when theyre old
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Engine in the front. jack in the back
Wheels take the brunt. pinion and a rack
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
But people are strangers
They change with the curve
From time zone to time zone
As we can observe
They shut down their borders
And think theyre immune
They stand on their differences
And shoot at the moon
But cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Drive em on the left. drive em on the right
Susceptible to theft in the middle of the night
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
I once had a car
That was more like a home
I lived in it, loved in it
Polished its chrome
If some of my homes
Had been more like my car
I probably wouldnt have
Travelled this far
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Banging On The Door
You know that it hurts
These things that you say
But Ill be alright
Dont lose your faith
Just swallow your pride tonight
God only knows this place is strange
Banging on the door again
Banging on the door thats locked forever
Losing on a lovers game
Winning on the one side and losing forever
The air that we breather hangs heavy tonight
Still I look for your face
Im home all alone again
Some dreams grow old and then they just die
Im banging on the door again
Still banging on the door thats locked forever
Losing on a lovers game
Winning on the one track and hurting forever
Oh your love is a symphony
All this love over all of me
Oh your love is a symphony
Oh sweet love I can feel it
Still banging on the door again
Im banging on the door thats sealed forever
Losing on a lovers game
Winning on the one track hurting forever
Written by : kerr/burchill reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bangin' On The Door
You know that it hurts
These things that you say
But I'll be alright
Don't lose your faith
Just swallow your pride tonight
God only knows this place is strange
Banging on the door again
Banging on the door that's locked forever
Losing on a lover's game
Winning on the one side and losing forever
The air that we breather hangs heavy tonight
Still I look for your face
I'm home all alone again
Some dreams grow old and then they just die
I'm banging on the door again
Still banging on the door that's locked forever
Losing on a lover's game
Winning on the one track and hurting forever
Oh your love is a symphony
All this love over all of me
Oh your love is a symphony
Oh sweet love I can feel it
Still banging on the door again
I'm banging on the door that's sealed forever
Losing on a lover's game
Winning on the one track hurting forever
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Step Out Of The Door
i step out of the door
from my dark room the windows are not opened
it is humid
it is cold
and i step out of the door the windows still closed
i lock the door and step upon a patch of green grass
the dews are hanging on the blades
and shaken
i look upon a sky
and there is this star still shining despite the opening of the
mouth of the morning
after a deep sleep
i see your face but i promise there shall be no tears.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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