From the train
Sliding from the station
in Stafford, past empty brick-built
passions from a faded, failing world:
they dreamed of industry
and power, forgetting people, history
and time – as all who seek to change
and build, must.
Faster through the sensual farms
of sleeping Staffordshire,
with woods and birds and village halls;
two walkers, and a dog.
The morning light on English fields
is gold and green today;
undisturbed, from where I sit,
by any passing train.
We are so good at self-deceit,
in England, where we kill
with ancient dreams and paper knives,
each brick-built works at will.
On my way to Liverpool, feeling wistful. Posted on Poets United.
Wonderful, well crafted poem – the ending surprised me, but I love your phrase, “with ancient dreams and paper knives” – excellent wording! I really enjoyed this. ~ Julie 🙂
A most delightful find, which awakened memories of that which we should all strive to retain…..
“with ancient dreams and paper knives”…beautfully crafted 🙂
Your words are lovely…I feel like I was on the train watching the fields and farm. And your last verse is thought provoking… I always feel there is something I need to dig further in your words ~
Lovely. I have been craving a train trip through the countryside. Through your words, I felt I have enjoyed one.
I enjoyed how this poem swoops back and forth from conceptual to concrete, finding still points along the way, the sublime pause for two walkers and a dog, for lit fields. Actually, those still points were striking in the woodworking poem too, in how it was comforting to have the structure of stanzas ending with different woods being named, yet the particulars of the content were hardly predictable.
thank you for taking me along in your display of beautiful imagery. I actually wrote one titled, “Notes from the Train”… if you would like to read it, there is a search bar at the bottom of my blog 🙂 But, here is my latest attempt at poetry (bleh!)