Saturday, 11 October 2014

Night Train

Night train's mournful whistle
Ate into my heart
Hypnotized me
No, tortured me
As I remembered you

You were mine once, long ago
Your teasing flesh
Slaking our lust
Where were our brains?
Just like headless chickens

I knew you would leave me
Out of gimmicks
Liquor ran out
Uniform no draw
The machine had clicked stop

So where do I go from here?
Where's the lotion?
Where's the balm?
Just that whistle
As I remember you

Image from


  1. What's gone is horrible that the stars and train fall from the sky and we are left cold and shivering...but at least there are memories

  2. That second stanza is so powerful and true.

  3. Sometimes memories are better than the real thing. Granted not often, but sometimes.

  4. hummmm…..funny what brings on memories?

  5. Ooooh love the sound of this whistle echoing after the poem is read...

  6. Brains and lust don't co-exist too successfully, do they? Ha! Loved it!

    Whirling with Alberto

  7. That train whistle really is symbolic of missing, I think. It is good, yet hard, to remember.

  8. I'm not having much luck posting comments today ... I'll try again. That whistle has a lot to answer for. :D

  9. Lovely, Oldegg! Our lives' learned lessons....but do you really sorry for those experiences?

  10. So true, that blasted whistle is mournful. You have to stop what you doing and just listen it. Knowing it does bring memories forward and you have to deal with it.

  11. Your poem had me humming B.J. Thomas' version of "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry." Haven't thought of that in years. Thank you,


  12. I love the "Where were our brains?" line, and also the last two.

  13. You surely are the master of soulful reminiscence. Delightful - as always!

  14. Excellent poem and great art to go with...a mournful nostalgic all over feel.

  15. Wow, that torturous sound is very vivid. And the chaotic image of headless chickens, wild! I love the cold, haunting end. Bravo!!

  16. There are all kinds of leaving, and they don't all require a train trip. I like the nostalgia of the train, though. Oddly, I've lived most of my life within the range of a train whistle.

  17. Lovely ... reminds me of a sond I once heard long ago ... a poem to read over and over again..