Two weeks ago, I rode a train for the first time. Well, Amtrak. The little steam train I rode years ago doesn’t count as a ‘real’ train. It was a nine hour, overnight trip to Pittsburgh. I’ll have more to say about the trip and train in my monthly highlights post, but I did want to share one thing with you all.
I finally expermented with free verse poetry! I’ve tried my hand at free verse once or twice before, but I’ve never studied poetry and have read hardly any. Still, while looking out the window at 3:30 a.m. from the observation car, I decided to give it a go. Here is the result.
We stop, we start, we stop again
A sleeping city glides by
Orange light over deserted roads
It’s 3:30 – the darkest hours before dawn.
Now we rise, traveling high over roads
Passing empty parking lots and still towers
Not a car, nor a soul, nor a breath of life
There are so many empty streets.
The train sways like a great cradle
Sometimes with creaking groans
Sometimes smoothly, soundlessly.
The moon above us
Pavements below us
Lights and slumbering lives
Who lives down there, cloaked in shadows?
What bits of life are almost visible?
Empty streets, empty passages, empty lights
Empty, empty, empty
Awaiting a new day.
On the way home, I wrote another piece, this one about boarding the train that night.
Backpack digging into my shoulder.
A wide tunnel, gaping like the throat of a great beast.
A train on each side,
We hurry on, down to the end.
Golden lights, like unblinking eyes.
Pillow in one hand, my ticket too.
My suitcase rattles on wobbly wheels.
“Down to the end.
Coach to the end.”
“South Bender, eh?
Seat 57, this door.”
Crisp uniforms, white pressed and gold braid.
Polished hats over watchful eyes.
Up a twisting stair, luggage clattering against the walls.
My face to the glass.
This side of the platform is empty.
Concrete and golden glows.
A gentle sway.
Pillars glide by.
Our speed quickens.
We are out, rushing into the shadows.
One station at a time, across the night.
Do you enjoy poety? Have you ever written free verse?