Class Of Train Station Regulars
1 August, 2004
Author: Red Sarah
Light beams, like tunnels, through holes
in empty three-story ceilings - a rapture
for train passengers, who strut
onyx canes with fourteen-carat knobs.
Two men's top hats tower over a third,
dips his pen, shaking hands over steel-mill deals,
hat-brim shadows hide swindling smiles.
A man spits a wad of tabacco on the dusty ground,
reaches for his emerald-studded flask -
the train to Pittsburgh arrives seven minutes late.
Everyday they wait to be gathered
for Wall Street, for their rapture,
while Teamsters Local 574
defeats the National Guard and martial law.
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Comments on this poem/writing:
Pondering Red (65.93.191.211) -- Monday, August 2 2004, 06:21 pm I like your style and way with words....unique... |
Meridian (64.12.116.200) -- Monday, August 2 2004, 07:34 pm Nice imagery, every single line is visionary! "Class Of Train Station Regulars".... I can see the train choo-chooing on the rail road... Great job Red Sarah! Smiles, -Meri |
Red Sarah (66.125.109.77) -- Tuesday, August 3 2004, 05:09 am Thank you for your comments. I like to try to write very visually |
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