Here's a poem I wrote a few months ago. I'm going to have to try harder to write poems or I'm going to run out! This was just some drunk guy that was standing and swaying, looking at the ground, on a train station platform. It's not menat to be a comment about Japan. It could be anywhere. I keep changing the title, but right now it's called Waiting for a Train -
Staring at a spot he is,
As if he's gotten lost in it,
As if a mystery to him,
As if there's something
in there for him.
As if a picture of his love,
Lost then, as if he'd lost a limb.
His eyes well-weathered,
As the coast.
His lips are crumbling and thin.
His words are ghosts
And they're gone,
Up towards the mountains
And the woods.
They're not for us;
No longer his.
And now he's swaying
on a platform,
Staring at a spot he is.
2 comments:
Thats what I look like when Im waiting for the goddamn train. Which Im always doing. I hate it. I hate Warrington station with its wierd men who smell of cider and have their jumpers tucked into their track suit bottoms. I hate Wigan station with its women made entirely from lycra and muscle and orange rimmel face powder, from whom I have to avoid eye contact with at all cost (AT ALL COST!)I hate Chester because u can no longer get away without paying for a ticket. Thats why I hate Manchester too. The train from Liverpool is kak because I have to go underground, and then wait with lots of angry looking people before we all board a train that inside looks like a really crap bus( the seats lined with velcro stuff stained the colour of misery)and stop at approximately 47 tiny stations in places that dont even exist. By the time ur back in August, I'll have a car. I like this train waiting poem. Now post the cat one.
Ha ha ha, yeah British train stations can be a bit grim. Why were you in Wigan? Were you at a pie throwing contest. It hurts more with pork pies than with custard pies! I hope you're ok!
The cat poem about talking with someone?
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