She is a 4-8-4 steam locomotive
on static display in Toronto,
near the Ex
time was when my wheels were polished
by mile upon mile of steel rail;
when before my pilot lay the entire
Dominion, mare ad mare, sea to sea;
when with a fire in my belly and a head
of superheated steam at the throttle i
pounded the main, Halifax to Vancouver
time was when in smoke and thunder
I raced across the wide, rolling prairies
hauling fancy varnish or fast freight;
when people told time by my passing;
when the long lonesome sound of my voice
inspired school boys or broke a maidens heart.
But now cold and lonesome i lie in this park.
Cold. No steam, nor smoke, nor fire, now,
warmed only by the blessed, benevolent sun--
my track ends a foot beyond my couplers
lest the useless relic that I’ve become
get a run at it and break this prison...
Very special John. Your poem put life and light back in this relic. GEM
Reviewed by Dens Dreamweaver (Reader)
Reviewed on May 23, 2003
Oh I really love this one John.. I had written one quit awhile ago about the caboose.. (smile) miss those too...
I can remember as a kid sitting at a train crossing, counting the train cars as they pass... and then singing the little red caboose song ;) Ahh I must be old..
Anywho.. Back to reality again.. Thanks for the memories..
time was when in smoke and thunder
I raced across the wide, rolling prairies
hauling fancy varnish or fast freight;
when people told time by my passing;
when the long lonesome sound of my voice
inspired school boys or broke a maidens heart.
But now cold and lonesome i lie in this park.
Cold. No steam, nor smoke, nor fire, now,
warmed only by the blessed, benevolent sun--
my track ends a foot beyond my couplers
lest the useless relic that I’ve become
get a run at it and break this prison...
And now it can be a place for boys and girls to pretend.. it still goes on... just a dif path.
This book explores how U.S. presidents Dwight D. Eisenhower and John F. Kennedy failed to stand up to Soviet aggression during the early Cold War—despite America's overwhelming nuclear advantage.
325 letters my father wrote to my mother during his time in World War II.
Woven together in a timeline of events of three of his brothers, 5 brothers-in-law, and one cousin, all 10 of them were in WWII at the same time.
Share
Print
Save
Follow
Reindeer
I can remember as a kid sitting at a train crossing, counting the train cars as they pass... and then singing the little red caboose song ;) Ahh I must be old..
Anywho.. Back to reality again.. Thanks for the memories..
Melanie
I raced across the wide, rolling prairies
hauling fancy varnish or fast freight;
when people told time by my passing;
when the long lonesome sound of my voice
inspired school boys or broke a maidens heart.
But now cold and lonesome i lie in this park.
Cold. No steam, nor smoke, nor fire, now,
warmed only by the blessed, benevolent sun--
my track ends a foot beyond my couplers
lest the useless relic that I’ve become
get a run at it and break this prison...
And now it can be a place for boys and girls to pretend.. it still goes on... just a dif path.
Love
Tinka
Jenni