En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Who Am I? I Am!

who am i?
whose voice do you hear
when i growl?
whose face do you see
when i moan?

i am the train
that hasnt come
for twenty years,
the tracks left to whimper
like a deserted bride.
i am the lock rusted,
and the key that is lost.
i am the cross of silver
on the neck of the corpse.
i am the soldier come home
to no home at all.
i am the father burying
his only son.
i am the vote not cast,
the prayer unspoken.
i am the homeless shelter,
and the house in the suburbs.

i am the husband and wife,
splitting after 25 years.
i am the abused child,
the worker without a job.
i am two young men who are
in passionate love,
and the families that
turned their backs.
i am the young boy and girl
making love for the first time,
when nothing else matters.
i am the empty church,
and the library closed down.
i am laws that take away
the individual's rights.
i am a poet, a hammer, a wheelbarrow,
and a bag of used clothes,
left on the doorstep
of the family in need....

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Train Long Gone

(Gone!) Well, I hate how that word
Rattles all around in this room
(Alone,) with a memory so strong
I could sweep it up with a broom.
(Tears,) if I shed anymore I'm afraid
They might wear out my face
(Clear,) Yes, It's clear to me now
That her love can never be replaced.
Love may be gone but never forgotten
The memory won't leave you alone
And the train may be long gone from the station
But you still hear the whistle moan.
Still hear the whistle moan.
--- Instrumental ---
(Time,) time got so slow and thick
That the clock hardly ticks anymore
(Crime,) it's a crime how I sit here
And stare like a dog at the door.
(Blame,) Aw yes, I'll take the blame
I admit I did not treat her right
(Shame,) It's a shame laying here
All alone on this cold, windy night.
Love may be gone but never forgotten
The memory won't leave you alone
And the train may be long gone from the station
But you still hear the whistle moan.
Still hear the whistle moan.
Ohh, Ohh, Ohh, Ohh, Ohh, Ohh
Train gone, long gone train.
Ohh, Ohh, Ohh
Train gone, long gone train.
Ohh, Ohh, Ohh, Ohh, Ohh
Train gone, long gone train.
Ohh, Ohh, Ohh, Ohh, Ohh
Ohh, Ohh, Ohh, Ohh.
Love may be gone but never forgotten
The memory won't leave you alone
And the train may be long gone from the station
But you can still hear the whistle moan.
Still hear the whistle moan.
Ohh, Ohh, Ohh, Ohh, Ohh, Ohh
Train gone, long gone train.
Ohh, Ohh, Ohh, Ohh
Train, long gone train.
Ohh, Ohh, Ohh, Ohh
Train, long gone train.
Ohh, Ohh, Ohh
Train gone, long gone train.
Ohh, Ohh, Ohh, Ohh
Train, long gone train.
Ohh, Ohh, Ohh, Ohh
Long gone train.
Ohh, Ohh, Ohh
Train, long gone train.
Ohh, Ohh, Ohh, Ohh
Train, long gone train...

song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gazing suicide

I went to the train tracks.
I sat on the bridge above.
My life has beaten me.

As I looked down below me.
I saw the tracks before my eyes.
So shiny and black.

My troubles.
My hurt.
And years of pain.
They had gotten the better of me.
It all became clear and I knew what I had to do.

I had to join the train tracks below me
I had to die

poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gazing suicides

I thought of dying today
Gazing down to the train track below
So shiny and black.

I heard the tracks calling me to join them below.
I heard them say if you want to jump
Then jump go on just jump.

I though I'd chuck myself away
Thought I'd fall below
To the train tracks underneath.

I thought it through and through.
With nothing else left to do
I let the train tracks call me below.

I ve sufferd enough in this evil world
Theres to much evil that lurks.
The world is a sain place for some.
It wasnt for me
I lived a life full of pain.

Things got to much
So I listened to the tracks below me
I knew it made sense for me.

I took the plunge
And I jumped down to the tracks below me
As I fall
I will die below

Things are meant for some
And this was meant for me
The train tracks told me so

Amy Kerswell

poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ghost Train

A straw headed woman, and a barrel chested man,
A pocket full of posies with a hat brim full of sand,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
A dog chasing the tumbleweeds, across the sandy floor,
That drift along the platform, through the ticket office door,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
But don't tell me there's nothing coming, you don't fool me,
I hear the ghost train rumbling along the tracks - set them free,
And i hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
The station master's writing with a piece of orange chalk,
A hundred cancellations, still no one wants to walk,
Keep the hungry children from the skeletons in the back,
Paid to keep an eye out for the gipsy caravan,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
I hear the ghost train rumbling along the tracks - set them free,
And i hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white (don't try),
It's black and white (don't try),
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
And i hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide...

song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(Waiting For) The Ghost Train

A straw headed woman, and a barrel chested man,
A pocket full of posies with a hat brim full of sand,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
A dog chasing the tumbleweeds, across the sandy floor,
That drift along the platform, through the ticket office door,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
But don't tell me there's nothing coming, you don't fool me,
I hear the ghost train rumbling along the tracks - set them free,
And I hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
The station master's writing with a piece of orange chalk,
A hundred cancellations, still no one wants to walk,
Keep the hungry children from the skeletons in the back,
Paid to keep an eye out for the gipsy caravan,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
I hear the ghost train rumbling along the tracks - set them free,
And I hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white (don't try),
It's black and white (don't try),
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
And I hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide

song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Engine Driver

For five and twenty years I've run
A famous train;
But now my spell of speed is done,
No more I'll strain
My sight along the treadless tracks,
The gleamy rails:
My hand upon the throttle slacks,
My vision fails.

No more I'll urge my steed of steel
Through hostile nights;
No more the mastery I'll feel
Of monster might.
I'll miss the hiss of giant steam,
The clank, the roar;
The agony of brakes that scream
I'll hear no more.

Oh I have held within my hand
A million lives;
And now my son takes command
And proudly drives;
While from my cottage wistfully
I watch his train,
And wave and wave and seem to see
Myself again.

poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Change The Locks

I changed the lock on my front door
So you cant see me anymore
And you cant come inside my house
And you cant lie down on my couch
I changed the lock on my front door
I changed the number on my phone
So you cant call me up at home
And you cant say those things to me
That make me fall down on my knees
I changed the nunmber on my phone
Cause I changed the kind of car I drive
So you cant see me when I go by
And you cant chase me up the street
And you cant knock me off of my feet
I changed the kind of car I drive
I changed the kind of clothes I wear
So you cant find me anywhere
You cant spot me in a crowd
And you cant call my name out loud
I changed the kind of clothes I wear
I changed the tracks underneath the train
So you cant find me ever again
And you cant trace my path
And you cant hear me laugh
And honey Im laughing all the time
I changed the name of this town
So you cant follow me down
And you cant touch me like before
And you cant make me want you more
I changed the name of this town
I changed the lock on my front door
I changed the number on my phone
I changed the kind of car I drive
I changed the kind of clothes I wear
I changed the tracks underneath the train
I changed the name of this town
I changed the name of this town
I changed the name of this town

song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Loyalty

amidst the loneliness
that keeps us in this old house
this is what we can do: you sing the videoke
i face the monitor, and i write a poem about us,
25 years on monotony like the sound of the waves of the sea
overnight a boat that takes us to another island
25 years of tolerance about our own idiosyncrasies
another twenty-five years
and another twenty-five years
this is our pledge of allegiance to ourselves
husband and wife
alone, in an old house, left by those behind us
for bitter or for worse

er, for better or for good.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ask Your Dog 'What Time Is It'?

If you could ask a dog
“What time is it? ”…
You most likely
Would just hear a howl

A bark, a snuffle
A snort or a sniff
A whimper, a whine
Or a growl

But that’s not what I hear
And that’s not his reply
When I ask my dog
“What does the clock say? ”

I know by the look
That I see In his eye
That the answer is
“It’s time to play! ”

So if your dog could just talk
And If you just knew how…
to listen …to him, His answer to you
would be “It’s time to play, Right now! ! ! ”

poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ulmarra

Alone — alone!
With a heart like a stone,
She maketh her moan
At the feet of the trees,
With her face on her knees,
And her hair streaming over;
Wildly, and wildly, and wildly;
For she misses the tracks of her lover!
Do you hear her, Ulmarra?
Oh, where are the tracks of her lover?
Go by — go by!
They have told her a lie,
Who said he was nigh,
In the white-cedar glen —
In the camps of his men:
And she sitteth there weeping —
Weeping, and weeping, and weeping,
For the face of a warrior sleeping!
Do you hear her, Ulmarra?
Oh! where is her warrior sleeping?

A dream! a dream!
That they saw a bright gleam
Through the dusk boughs stream,
Where wild bees dwell,
And a tomahawk fell,
In moons which have faded;
Faded, and faded, and faded,
From woods where a chieftain lies shaded!
Do you hear her, Ulmarra?
Oh! where doth her chieftain lie shaded?

Bewail! bewail!
Who whispered a tale,
That they heard on the gale,
Through the dark and the cold,
The voice of the bold;
And a boomerang flying;
Flying, and flying, and flying?
Ah! her heart it is wasted with crying —
Do you hear her, Ulmarra?
Oh! her heart it is wasted with crying!

poem by Henry Kendall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ebony Life

A frightening stillness will mark that day
And the shadow of streetlights and fire-alarms will exhaust the light
All things, the quietest and the loudest, will be silent
The suckling brats will die
The tugboats the locomotives the wind will glide by in silence
We will hear the great voice which coming from far away will pass over the city
We will wait a long time for it
Then at the rich man's time of day
When the dust the stones the missing tears
form the sun's robe on the huge deserted squares
We shall finally hear the voice.
It will growl at doors for a long while
It will pass over the town tearing up flags and breaking windowpanes.
We will hear it
What silence before it, but still greater the silence
it will not disturb but will hold guilty will brand and denounce
Day of sorrows and joys
The day the day to come when the voice will pass over the city
A ghostly seagull told me she loved me as much as I loved her
That this great terrible silence was my love
That the wind carrying the voice was the great revolt of the world
And that the voice would look kindly on me.

poem by Robert Desnos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don't You Hear Jerusalem Moan

Don't You Hear Jerusalem Moan
Don't you hear Jerusalem moan?
Don't never let a chicken get big enough to crow
Don't you hear Jerusalem moan?
Don't you hear Jerusalem moan?
Don't you hear Jerusalem moan?
Thank God there's a heaven and a ringing in my soul and my soul's got free
Don't you hear Jerusalem moan?
Well a hard-shell preacher you can tell him how he do
Well he chews his own tobacco and he drinks his own brew.
Well a Baptist preacher you can tell him by his coat
Has a bottle in his pocket that he can't hardly tote
Well a Cambellite preacher his soul is saved
Well he has to be baptized every other day
Well the Holy Roller preacher he sure is a sight
Well he gets em all a-rolling and he kicks out the light
Well the Presbyterian preacher he lives in town
His neck's so stiff he can't hardly look around.

song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Next Voice You Hear

Gather your deeds and your possessions,
Whatever certainty youve known,
Forget your heroes,
You dont really need those lasting lessons.
Stand in the open;
The next voice you hear will be your own.
But, alright, they knew how they could hurt you,
And you let them cut you to the bone.
But God forbid,
You allow them to rid you of your virtue!
Forget their laughter;
The next voice you hear will be your own.
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear will be your own.
Throw down your truth and check your weapons.
Dont look to see if youre alone,
Just stand your ground,
And dont turn around -- whatever happens.
Dont ask directions;
The next voice you hear will be your own.
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear will be your own.

song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lonliness (Feels)

lonliness...
feels like,
the train passing,
middle of the night,
long forgotten tracks.
the factory building empty,
set ablaze by anger.
the flight of the crows,
pawprints left by a stray cat.
the tears of a man
when he thinks that
no one can see.
the clouds that bury stars,
the trees that hold up the sky.
the black hand of death
wrenching light from the heart.
the prayer long unanswered.
the echo of your own voice,
the key that doesnt fit the lock.
unmarked stones in a graveyard.
the windowpane covered with dust.
the lone wolf staring,
the letter sent to the wrong address.

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Toledo

All through the night you telephoned
I saw the light blinking red
Beside the cradle
But you dont know how far Ive gone
Now I must live with the lie
That I made
But if I call, I know I wont have to say it
Youll hear my voice - something is bound to betray it
But do people living in toledo
Know that their name hasnt travelled very well?
And does anybody in ohio
Dream of that spanish citadel?
But its no use saying that I love you
And how that girl really didnt mean a thing to me
For if anyone should look into your eyes
Its not forgiveness that theyre gonna see
You hear her voice - how could you do that?
You hear her voice - how could you do that?
So I walked outside in the bright
Sunshine and lovers pass by
Smiling and joking
But they dont know the fool I was
Why should they care what was lost
What was broken?
But if I call, I know I wont have to say it
Youll hear my voice - something is bound to betray it
But do people living in toledo
Know that their name hasnt travelled very well?
And does anybody in ohio
Dream of that spanish citadel?
But its no use saying that I love you
And how that girl really didnt mean a thing to me
For if anyone should look into your eyes
Its not forgiveness that theyre gonna see
But do people living in toledo
Know that their name hasnt travelled very well?
And does anybody in ohio
Dream of that spanish citadel?
But we still have florence, alabama
We dont have paris, and we dont have rome

song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Do You Even (Know My Name)

for your strong scent of love,
and the dew of your wetness...
your lips that color the night sky
in deep layers of black...
your animal spirit running
through fields in the moonlight...
the taste of your flesh,
your blood on my chin...
the howl and the hoot,
and then the great stillness...
the earth shakes and tremors,
great waves rise from the sea...
and the wind itself lonesome,
fumbles with the latch to your door..
the snow fast approaching,
the last fire fed by you!

can you hear me calling?
the whisper, the moan?
or am i only an old train,
running empty on tracks leading nowhere?
do you even know my name?
the tracks beneath your eyes,
be they tears, or my coming...
gone in an instant,
fire leaves nothing to remember!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Train

Writers: leo sayer & david courtney
Running through my life
Like a river, like a song
Train keeps pushing me
Right back to the place where I belong...
Back along the tracks
Fly a million years
Right across my path
Train moves on ringing in my ears...
Come on board
Come on board
Train, oh train, take me back, again
I remember, I remember, take me back
Train, oh train, the journey ends and starts again
I remember, I remember, I remember
Ive been up all night trying to get this down
Now Im hallucinating
Staring at the wall look what Im creating...
Look at the clock Im twelve hours old
So many more remain
Way up ahead I know I see a train...
Come on board
Come on board
Train, oh train, all those memories, all over again
I remember, I remember, take me back
Train, oh train, the journey ends and starts again
I remember, I remember, I remember
Waited on the station all day
Just to see a glimpse of the morning train
Just to see the wheels turning round
Blowing up steam,
See what I mean,
You see what I mean...

song performed by by Leo Sayer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Few Blocks Away From Thirty-Five

Your name must be Heather?
Because your face,
Seems locked into a jeer.
As if bad weather...
Has left you more than moised.

Your name must be Heather?
You must have been expecting someone,
Dressed in leather?
Or silk...
With a smooth grin.

Your name must be Heather,
The one who claims to have matched my profile...
With an unleashing of my wildest dreams.
But Heather?
You are a few years older than nineteen.
And it has been a long time,
Since I was a rich man at thirty-two!
That was thirty-one years ago, Heather.
And I am sure back then,
You were all of twenty-two.

Your name must be Heather?
Because your face,
Seems locked into a jeer.
As if bad weather...
Has left you more than moised.
You can unthaw in here.

You don't have to look as if you are shocked!
Yes,
You are correct.
This 'is' my natural voice.
And I am a few blocks away from thirty-five.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Twenty year old friendship

Twenty year old friendship

It was this month
Twenty years ago
I came across you
And took you with me
Since then
You are my conscious keeper
I looked at you
For anything and every thing
I look at you
As soon I wake up
I look at you
As I take my breakfast
I look at you
As I leave for office
Whenever there are challenges
I look at you
And you always give me a breather
And you used to say
There is time still
When I look at you in the event
Of an unfavourable situation
You smile with your hands spread
And say
You should have done something about this
Much earlier
Whenever I am in a rush
Whether it is to attend a meeting
Or to catch a flight, train or bus
I look at you
You will say either there is time still
Or you should have left earlier
It is difficult to say
As to when I have not consulted you
Every now and then
I look at you
And you never failed me
You were prompt although
To give me the help I need
I will not say you kept me on my toes
But, yes, you helped me keep my times
Any event, joyful or otherwise
As soon as it occurred
I would look at you
You kept me telling indirectly
That things keep pace with time
And change
Your message was always
That time is the best healer
And is the best in sorting issues
As you know time puts things
At their right place
For all these I have done nothing to you
But to feed you
With a small disc
This feed is good enough for you
To keep yourself performing
For months
You might have fallen sick
Thrice in these twenty years
Never once I spent
More than the consultation fee, which I pay
To my medical practitioner
I see of late
You are running slow
Because of this long twenty years’ running
May be, soon I will stop
Consulting you
And I am planning to put you to rest
My dear, twenty years old Titan watch

poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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