THE POETRY TRAIN

 

THE POETRY TRAIN

I like to ride my poetry train

I like its many compartments

In my dreams they are myriad

Some lined with pearl

Others upholstered in stars

Oh you are so gaudy the modern poets say

Don’t care I run this train

Im the conductor and the passenger too

The seats on my train are moss green velvet

While maybe you just make do

With barely a metaphor in view

No hard feelings

On this train we always invite the Romantics

To board

You know the ones in school with which perhaps

You may have been bored

Blake, Wordsworth, Keats and Shelley too

They ride first class

Indeed they do

They don’t spill ash

They don’t bash

They don’t talk trash

They give the clouds dreams to dream on

In the passing scenery

All on board I’d like to say

But it’s just not that way.

Peppermint bay next station

After that, the doll nation.

No cynics here.

This railway’s cleared

To love the lemon drop skies

And not to crack wise

at the Beautiful.

mary angela douglas 20 june 2024