En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Visit to the Train Station.

You and Fay got off the bus
and walked towards Waterloo train station

and you said
I often come here

just to see and smell
and hear the steam trains

and she looked about her
at the sights and sounds

and smell of steam off the trains
at the platforms

and she said
I haven't been here

since my parents took us
to the seaside once

and my father was in a cross mood
all day because we wanted to play

on the beach and he wanted to go
to the pubs and my mother sat there

most of the day watching us
in a solemn silence

and she jump back a little
when a stream engine

blew out loudly nearby
and she laughed

and so did you
and as you stood there

in your faded jeans
and off white tee shirt

and she in her pink
summery dress

she took your hand
in her small hand

and you watched her
out of the corner of your eye

and she seemed to be so alive
and happy and all the dark times

of her father and his moods
and stern punishments

seemed momentarily
to have fled

and a glint of sunshine
and happiness came

and rested there
instead.

poem by Terry Collett
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Janice and You at Waterloo Station

At Waterloo Station
the steam engines
puffed powerful steam
reaching up

to the rooftop
and you stood there
hands in your pockets
your nose sniffing in

the white and grey smell
you can taste it
on your tongue
and Janice beside you

her eyes looked up
at the rooftop
as the steam
reached high

her hands clutching
the small bag
I want to be a train driver
when I'm older

you said
I want to smell
that smell
and breathe in

that steam and shovel
coal in the engine
maybe you will
Janice said

maybe you'll be
on a train like that
big and black
and powerful

she put her hand
under your arm
and squeezed
Gran said we can be

what we want
if we want it
bad enough
Janice added

you felt her hand
under your arm
sensed her squeeze it
we went to the seaside

on a big black train
like this last year
you said
and I put my head

out the train window
and my mum said
keep your head in
or a train

will knock it off
that'd be horrible
Janice said
she clutched

closer to you
as the steam train
puffed out more steam
and the sound was loud

and powerful
and she said
maybe
when you're an engine driver

you can take me
to the seaside
with Gran
yes

you said
and if you come
to the engine
before you take off

I can show you
the engine
and how powerful it is
and she smiled

and put her head
on your shoulder
yes
you said softly

when I grow up
and when I am older.

poem by Terry Collett
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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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Matter Of Beauty

That's Speedwell
and that's Red Sorrel

Jane said
pointing out

the wildflowers
as you both walked

down the lane
that led to the empty cottage

with apples trees
in the garden

and gooseberry bushes
in fruit by hedges

They all look the same to me
you said

Just flowers growing
she shook her head

and smiled and said
You townies

do you know nothing
of nature's beauty?

I'm looking at beauty now
you replied

and as you both walked on
down the lane

she in her summery dress
and you in your

open neck shirt
and faded jeans

you felt the morning sun
touching your head

like a fond mother
and the smell of flowers

and sound of birds
and she said

after a minute
or so of silence

Father says beauty
is only skin deep

real beauty lies
in a person's soul

if that soul is not blemished
by sin that is

and you looked at her
hand by her side

swinging as she walked
and the fingers curled

as if she held
something invisible

yet ready to throw
and you took in

her white ankle socks
above her brown sandals

and the calves of her legs
and her thighs

just showing
as the dress moved

and you breathed in deep
like one immersed

in water about to drown
of love or the feeling of such

and you said
I guess he's right

but I love the beauty
of skin pretty much

and she laughed
and her laughter

shooed off birds
from the tree tops around

who probably never heard
such a beautiful sound.

poem by Terry Collett
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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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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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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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Trains Make Me Lonesome

I was 5 years old
When daddy started packing
And I stood there by my momma
As she cried
And the next thing that we knew
Some old train came passing through
And daddy got on board
And we aint seen him no more
Chorus
I wonder why trains make me lonesome
It happens everytime that engine moans some
And when I hear that whistle blow
It makes my heart sink low
And I wonder why trains make me lonesome
It was a cold dark night
When I drove her to the depot
There were tears in my eyes
And a ticket in her hand
And as we stood there by those tracks
I knew she wasnt coming back
So I turned and walked away
But I still miss her today
Chorus
Those ink spots look engine no. 9
And this couch on which I lay
Suppose to haul my blues away
That old pipe you keep toking
Is like an old cold enging smoking
Chorus

song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Watching Me Watching You

I sit by the cutting on the beaconsfield line.
Hes watching me watching the trains go by.
And they move so fast --- boy, they really fly.
Hes still watching me watching you watching the
Trains go by.
And the way he stares --- feel like locking my door
And pulling my phone from the wall.
His eyes, like lights from a laser, burn
Making my hair stand --- making the goose-bumps crawl.
Hes watching me watching you watching him
Watching me
Im watching you watching him watching me
Watching stares.
At the cocktail party with a bucks fizz in my hand
I feel him watching me watching the girls go by.
And they move so smooth without even trying.
Hes still watching me watching you watching the
Trains go by.
And the crowd thins and he moves up close but he doesnt speak.
I have to look the other way.
But curiosity gets the better part of me and I peek:
Got two drinks in his hand --- see his lips move ---
What the hells he trying to say.
Hes watching me watching you watching him
Watching me.
Im watching you watching him watching me
Watching stares.
Hes watching me watching you watching him
Watching me.
Hes watching me watching you watching
The trains go by.
Hes watching me watching you watching him
Watching me.
Hes watching me watching you watching him watching me.
Hes watching me watching you watching him watching me watching him watching.

song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Steam Engine

Lead vocal: micky dolenz
Produced by: chip douglas
Mr. engineer, slow the engine down some more.
Youre movin just a little too fast,
Ive got my foot down clear to the floor.
Steam engine, engine 99
Steam drivers, rollin right on by.
Mr. engineer, you see Ive got a little problem here.
My baby, shes aboard your train,
She says shes never comin back again.
Steam engine, engine 99
Steam drivers, rollin right on by.
She told me good bye, she said Im leavin you behind.
I think Im gonna die, if I hear that whistle whine.
Mr. engineer, slow the engine down some more.
Youre movin movin just a little too fast,
Ive got my foot down clear to the floor.
Steam engine, engine 99
Steam drivers, rollin right on by.
(steam engines)gotta keep on keep on rollin.
(steam engines)shes gonna leave me behind.
(steam engines)i might as well go home.
(steam engines)shes gonna leave me behind.
(steam engines)i might as well go home.

song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Others May Think.

Apart from the water tower
and the farm

and a few scattered cottages
there were no other buildings

for a mile or more
just you and Jane

and birds in the early morning sky
I like it at this time of day

she said
I like the fresh smell of nature

and the farm
and having few people about

you walked beside her down the lane
that led away from the farm

you noticed how her black hair
seemed freshly washed

and blew slightly in the mild wind
does you father mind

you being out with me?
you asked softly

he doesn't know
she replied

he thinks I came out alone
for a morning walk

why didn't you tell him?
you asked

he was busy writing his Sunday sermon
and it was easier to just go out

and not disturb him
she said looking around at you

her eyes studying you
as she walked on down the lane

would he mind you being with me?
you asked

I don't think he knows you as yet
seeing as you have only moved here

a few months and don't come
to the church

you stopped and took her hand in yours
it was warm and soft

and pulsed with life
she looked at your hand

holding hers and she rubbed
her thumb over the back

of your hand
you wanted to kiss her lips

or cheek just to feel
her flesh on yours

but you didn't you just looked at her
and waited to see

what she would do next
she let go of your hand

and looked around her
there might be people looking

from those cottages up there
she said suddenly pointing up

at the rising bank which went up
to two cottages high up

if they see us they may tell Father
and then it would be awkward

and he might suspect things
and then she went quiet

and looked at the running stream
by the lane

but we haven't done anything
we just walk out and talk

and hold hands now and then
it's not what we do

it's what others think we do
she said softly

and stood looking at you
waiting for you to speak

but you said nothing
just leaned in close to her

and kissed her cheek
and said

even Christ permitted kisses
even the one from Judas

and she smiled
and the early morning sun

pushed through trees
and shone on her hair

and there was the sound of birds
singing in the air.

poem by Terry Collett
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Rachel and You and The Day Trip

It was a day trip out
to some seaside place
arranged by the Gospel church
for kids whose parents

were poor
and having got on the coach
you sat in a seat
by the window

and waved at your mother
standing on the pavement
along Rockingham Street
and she waved back

then this girl sat beside you
who you didn't know
and she smiled and said
all right if I sit here?

sure
you said
and looked back out
at your mother

and waved again
and she waved back
and you thought
who is this girl?

and why is she
sitting next to me?
and she looked at out
the window

and waved to her mother
who started talking
to your mother
and they both waved back

to you and the girl
and you said
do you want to sit
by the window?

and she said
ok yes that'd be nice
and so she got out
and you got out

then she got in
and sat
by the window
and you sat

down beside her
and then the coach
started up
and drove off

and you both waved
at your mothers
until they were out of sight
and the girl turned

and said
I'm Rachel
this is my first time
to the seaside

and you said
you can walk around
with me if you want to
and she said

that'd be good
I don't know
anyone else here
and so she did

all day
walked around with you
along the beach
and on the sands

making sandcastles
and in the cafe
where they took you all
for a meal

of fish and chips
and she talked
and talked
and smiled

and laughed
and once she took
hold of your hand
and it seemed

for a while
that she was happy
at least it seemed so
by the width of her smile.

poem by Terry Collett
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As It Was

Ginny loved it
when the time came
For their annual trip
to the seaside

And her father rented
the house with the big garden
that lead onto the sea.
She and her brothers and sister

Looked forward to it
every year and it seemed the sun
shone almost constantly
And the house seemed

as it was the year before
nothing changed nothing new
just the same rooms
and outlook and young Lily the maid

who came each year too
to help their mother
around the house
and watch

the younger children.
Her mother
Was the organiser
the one who seemed most near

to the children who seemed
to know the children’s needs
and wants and tried to keep
her husband happy

and allow him
his space and quiet
which he valued most of all.
Ginny liked it

when the sea was out
and there was plenty of sand
to play on to make a sand castle
with a moat and drawbridge

made from small pieces of driftwood
found on the beach.

But once her mother died
the seaside house

seemed less welcoming
the sea seemed

hardly ever to go out
than it was back again

the sun was less warm
less friendly

and her father
would mope

around the house
moaning and groaning

In his grief and bellowing
at Lily the maid

to do this and do that
making her cry

and only at night
when all were asleep

and Ginny was snuggled
Down in bed did it seem

as it was when her mother
would enter the room

and sit on the bed
and smile and whisper

the words she used to
placing a ghostly hand

on Ginny’s brow
and kiss her cheek.

Ginny remembered the house
By the sea years later

with the yellowy sand
And walking with Lily

the maid
hand in hand.

poem by Terry Collett
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Janice and You and Shared Love.

Janice met you
as you walked
across the bombsite
from the New Kent Road

to Meadow Row
you watched
as she trod
carefully over

bricks and stones
some half buried
under the settled
earth and mixed brick

her hands held out
like some tight-rope walker
and she saw you
and smiled

and said
Gran said I can come out
if I'm with you
so I came looking for you

and here you are
yes
you said
my usual place

amongst many
she stopped
where the ground
was even

and held her hands
in front of her
holding a small bag
you looked at her

in her red beret
and grey coat
her black shoes
and white socks

and she said
where are we going?
you looked at her bag
and said

what's in the bag?
a small handkerchief
and purse
with six pence

and a penny
and a bar of chocolate
we can share
she said

where are we going?
she repeated
where do you
want to go?

Waterloo
to watch the trains?
she said
I know you like them

ok
you said
and you both
headed back

to the bus stop
on the New Kent Road
and stood there
waiting for the bus

she in her red beret
and coat
and you
in your jeans

and pullover
with the wiggly pattern
and she opened
her bag

and took out
the bar of chocolate
and broke it
in two

one for her
and one for you
wrapped in
its silver paper

and purple cover
just like two grown ups
each giving
to their lover.

poem by Terry Collett
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The Photograph

She sat on the platform bench
waiting for a train to arrive.
Waiting to see her brother
who left to start a new life
twenty-five years ago.
She brought a photograph of herself
for him to have when he went back home.

Stillness engulfed the station
as she waited alone there.
The hiss of an old steam train
filled the quiet air
as along the track it came
like a dinosaur from the past
and stopped at the station.

A group of young soldiers
disembarked to stretch their legs
and grab some fresh air.
One young soldier approached her.
He was sixteen if he was a day.
He smiled as he sat beside her.
“You’re a pretty lady.” He said.

“Thank you.” She replied. “Off to fight some battles? ”
“Yes, but I am not really sure where.
They say a lot of us might not be coming back”
“That is sad.” She replied.
“Especially when you have no one
to think of you.”

“You see I am an orphan
and have no family or a girlfriend come to that.
No one to think of me
when the great battles come.”
“Now that is sad, ” She said looking at him.
Then she realized the photograph
for her brother was in her handbag.

She reached in and removed it.
“Take this and think of me
when your great battles come.”
“I will keep it with me always.
Now I must get back on the train.”
As the train whistle blew.
He waved goodbye as the steam engulfed him.

Then the train was gone
as quickly as it had come.
The stillness that had engulfed the station
now dissipated to.
Suddenly there was noise everywhere.
She looked around
as if waking from a dream.
She looked back down the tracks.

The mournful hoot of the electric horn
herald the arriving electric train.
She watched it intensely
as it slowed to stop at the station.
Two passengers alighted,
a man and a woman.
Her brother and his wife.

She greeted them with a smile,
but her brother’s wife looked at her in shock
as if she had seen a ghost.
They hugged one another,
and then left the station
to go to her home.
Arriving at her home
her sister-in-law looked at her again.

“Sorry if I look mystified when I look at you.
I have something I must tell you.
My grandfather before he died
asked me to find any relatives
to a lady in a photograph.
It was given to him
when he was leaving to go to war
over seventy years ago.

He carried it with him everywhere he went.
He said the photograph protected him
like a good luck charm.
He swore one day to return it,
but events made that impossible.
He immigrated when the war was over
and never got the chance.

He wanted to let her family know
of the kind deed she did”
“But that does not explain
the way you looked at me.”
She removed the photograph
and handed it to her.
It was the photograph
she had given the young soldier
only hours before.

9 April 2009

poem by David Harris
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No rush

I waited on the subway platform
and listened to a young woman
play acoustic guitar and sing
her face was round and her eyes
were wide with hope, she delicately played
as her voice draped over the
passing trains, her song kept pouring
soon there was a small crowd around her
watching her thick black braided hair swing
with the melody of her sounds
she made me forget about my train
I smiled at her soft pale face
and gave her a buck
several other people followed
and she played harder
her voice grew louder
and more trains passed
nobody got on
nobody cared
and nobody looked at their watches
we had cornered an angel
and we didn't want to let go
she stopped and took a small bow
and put away her guitar
the crowd thinned out
and my train pulled up
I looked at her one last time
she smiled and counted her dollars
I boarded the train and hummed
her songs all the way home

poem by Charles Lara
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I guess the two things I was most interested in were telescopes and steam engines. My father was an engineer on a threshing rig steam engine and I loved the machinery.

quote by Clyde Tombaugh
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Frinton-on-Sea by Train - The Annual Pilgrimage,1910

When in the large compartment,
Everyone was seated.
And all the luggage loaded,
The family group completed.

Excitement as the train now
Leaves the local station.
Everyone perceiving
A feeling of elation.

The Servants in the Third Class
All with faces radiant,
The train now fairly straining
Up it's first steep gradient.

Smoke rising from the engine,
Through the countryside it races,
Such a rattling and a clattering,
Rhythmic chugging as it paces.

Nurse is quietly rocking baby,
Mother dozing, Father reading.
Children gazing through the window,
Trees and streams seem to be speeding.

Realisation, train is stopping,
Doors are opening, whistles blare,
All alighting from the carriage,
Platforms busy. Great sea air!

Call the porter for the luggage,
What! No luggage, this can't be,
'Did you tip the porter Father? '
Mother calls out nervously.

Father fuming calls the Driver,
Calls ths Station Master too,
Sorry Sir, it's not our doing
We will send it on to you.

Father marching to the taxi,
Mother fretting following along,
Nurse with baby shrieking loudly
Children calling, 'What is wrong? '.

Father should have tipped the porter,
Much more than a farthing's worth,
So he didn't load the luggage,
In the 'First Class' luggage berth.

It arrived early next morning,
By the first train down the track,
So as to the moral of this story,
If you're too mean, watch out Jack!

© Ernestine Northover

This poem was written from a story handed down through the family, and the 'Father' was my husband's Great Grandfather, and it is absolutely true, he was a very mean man. A Farthing being the lowest coinage of that time. We have photos of them all sitting on the sand, in full dress with the ladies in huge feathered hats. A wonderful sight! ! ! !

poem by Ernestine Northover
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And That's Why

I didn’t call and wish you a happy fathers day today
Cause everyone called and told me today.
Did you need for us to call you on this day?
Just like the kids wanted to play that day?

I didn’t call and wish you a happy fathers day today
Because you haven’t seen your kids in 21 days
I bet they wanted to play within those days
So that’s why I didn’t call and tell you happy fathers day

I called and told my daddy happy father’s day
Because he calls me each and every day
When you didn’t buy those diapers
He came through, just like always
When the kids wanted to play
Your brothers dad came around and stayed
So I wished him a happy father’s day today

I wished all my single mothers’ happy father’s day
Because they go through the same thing i do
And they wished me a happy father’s day too
So that’s why I didn’t call you

You called too,
But I was sleeping
Because I have to work two jobs
To take up for what you don’t do
So that’s why I didn’t call you

I put your son on the phone when I woke up
To call and wish his father a happy father’s day
And guess what?
You hung up!
Now do you see why I don’t call and wish you a happy father’s day?

poem by Tylatreece Colbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Home Is Where My Heart Is

my home is where my heart is.

the white furniture are the veranda
the black umbrella at the side of the door
the green grass the lush trees
the pathway filled with pebbles
the ceiling with a fan
the stairs without dust
the railings with shellac
mahogany smell of walls
the well at the backyard
the smell of bacon at the kitchen
scrambled eggs and fresh milk
every morning
the smoke rising to the roof
of white steam rice

mother calling us all
and father waiting
praying for grace
and then this hearty meal

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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