Train

A little early this week, but it’s a bank holiday weekend and I’ve got places to talk to, people to go. I’m even dusting off my golf bats for the first time in a while, so I apologise in advance if you get hit by any long range divots.

I started my writing sessions at the beginning of the week writing about how I didn’t know what to write about, but the irony slowly began to confuse even me and I had to abandon it before my head exploded… Don’t get me wrong, I have a long list of topics I wish to inflict upon you, but none were getting the juices flowing at the time. Normal service shall resume next week. I may even one day post the writing about not writing, if I ever finish it. Good luck understanding it. Think of it as a kind of Sudoku of words - they’re all there, you just have to put them in the right order for it to make sense.

So, my post this week is in the form of a poem. I have many poems to my name, the majority about emotions, in one form or other, but I had an urge to do something a little more mundane, or grounded. What could be more mundane than the daily commute to work? Oh, and in case you haven’t realised it yet from the title of the post, I commute by train. 

I wanted to write something that would perhaps raise a smile, or an eyebrow of recognition. Long distance train passengers (trainers? trainees?) may even weep, huddled in a corner.

train

stand on the platform 

in the same spot every day

standing in the sun and rain

and whatever comes their way

wait for the train to come

to whisk them ‘cross the land

waiting wishing hoping

that they won’t have to stand

watch the same grey faces 

staring into space

watch the personalities

vanish without trace

become the huddled masses

breathe the same stale air

become the tired commuter

grumbling ‘bout the fare

This was at Clapham Junction, immobile. The wheels had been nicked.

scramble for the nicest seats

facing the right way

scramble to cocoon themselves

and shut the world away

squeeze themselves into a seat

not big enough for one

squeeze beside a person whose

smell they can’t outrun

listen as the guard explains

why they’ll be delayed

listen as the other trains

speed by unafraid

boxed in by the cheap headphones

that make their fillings throb

boxed in by the voices

that have no volume knob

see the inconsiderates 

whose luggage blocks the aisle

see the drooling snorers 

headbanging all the while

witness as the guard says thanks

for travelling on his train

witness as the regulars

roll their eyes again

wish there were another choice

to get to where they go

wish that if they raised their voice

the differences would show

see the utter chaos

as the time comes to alight

see the hidden tensions

that don’t quite start a fight

sigh as the train then stops

and they step out through the door

sigh when the evening comes

and they do it all once more