Season Ticket
By Ewan
- 2862 reads
I'llnevergetthere, I'llnevergetthere.
Wind-stripped trees pass by,
the buildings stand closer
with every mile.
I'llnevergetthere, I'llnevergetthere.
I catch a wary, lairy eye
above the painted, straining lips
- a frozen smile.
I'llnevergetthere, I'llnevergetthere.
We few, we seated few.
For he today that rides this hell with me…
I'llnevergetthere, I'llnevergetthere.
I watch the wrong leaves falling
on the reciprocal track;
the long way home.
I'llnevergetthere, I'llnevergetthere.
I do not care about fifteen down
or rockets launched from distant lands
and thunderstorms in Rome.
I'll never
getthere,getthere.
I'll never
get...
There.
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Comments
I wonder whether you wrote
I wonder whether you wrote this actually on the train? Great rhythm, loved it.
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'We few, we seated few' - the
'We few, we seated few' - the triumph of a sedentary journey. Lovely poem.
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Great. And as for
Great. And as for bastardising Shakespeare, it works well (oops, an adverb)
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I may not forgive you for
I may not forgive you for reminding me so vividly of my commuting days...
Thoroughly enjoyed it nevertheless!
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It's all in the rhythm and
It's all in the rhythm and the pictures flashing by. Great obsevation.
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