Morning breaks
As sweet bird songs lure me
Forgetting that nature fakes
It's prelude to the real overture.
So I wait
For the first train,
Moving soft and swift,
A mere ripple across my conscious mind,
A thoughtful driver's gift
To the sleeping, sleepless kind.
Still waiting
When here they come with harsher sounds
Metal on metal, steel on iron
Man-made cacophony gouging fresh wounds.
The earth quakes; at the next vibration
I'm out of bed and smashing my fist
Against the window
Until I'm splintered with glass.
As the blood oozes from my shattered wrist
The next train to pass
Hoots with derision.
Comments
JoseHdz | October 25, 2010 - 22:27
excellent.
skinner_jennifer | October 26, 2010 - 12:31
What a truely expressive piece.
Jenny.
seashore | October 26, 2010 - 15:53
Thanks for the feedback.
maggyvaneijk | October 26, 2010 - 17:16
wow, such a striking piece. I'm in love with it in a weird and wonderful way. The title alone caught my attention. There's so many powerful images, the shattered wrist and the cacophony of sounds.
shoe | October 26, 2010 - 18:02
Like the way it moves from gentle to violent, and the splintered glass image, great!
seashore | October 26, 2010 - 22:35
This is a piece that has hung around for a long time but never quite seemed to work. Unearthed it the other day and made a few subtle changes then wondered why I hadn't written it that way to begin with! Thanks again for comments.
fatboy74 | October 27, 2010 - 22:50
Love the line "to the sleeping, sleepless kind.' Well worked and congrats on cherry.
seashore | October 28, 2010 - 08:47
Thanks all. Glad I didn't give up on this one after all! Surprised and pleased with my cherry.
Nolan | November 15, 2010 - 09:36
Hear the long whistle whine!