Trains

CRIMSON CONSIDERATIONS ON CARRIAGES KISSING

/ deuxiemepeau / 2 Comments

 

A curious crimson
caressed his cheek
as we crossed
the carriage,

no winding words,

no exchange of the
extraordinary,

only that crimson kiss of curiosity

that blushed upon cheek
and burnt into my hunger

long hostage to painfully pale
and drained out drought,

before pressing passengers
pushed me forward
and him

too far behind…

and soon to fall
out of mind.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

9th poem for National Poetry Month

THE LIGHT THAT SHIFTS THE SHADOW

/ deuxiemepeau / 9 Comments

Day 6: National Poetry Writing Month #NaPoWriMo

Trains used to slip
through these tracks
where runners now train,
old locomotives now relocated
like the light that displaces
the shadow,
but the lines
still linger,
less steam now,
more sweat
and sometimes
that light
that shifts
the shadow,
trains used to slip
through these tracks
that the city now tickles,
threatens with timeshares
to tear up what time still shares
in the corners where that shadow
leans into the light, on the lines where life
once rattled and raced,
before the new towers
knocked the old homes,
before the runners
and the walkways
and the boarders
and the builders
and the cranes
now shifting
into sight,
rising, in the distance,
just a step
beyond
that
light.

All Words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Photograph taken at la Petite Ceinture, an old paris railway line in the 15eme

BITTER BRIDGES

/ deuxiemepeau / Leave a comment

 

Clouds cross the skies
and trains cross countries
while we cross each other
only at jagged junctions
and obstinate intersections,
cluttered with catastrophes
or below bitter bridges
that bridge no boundaries,
basked only in blackness
always shadow, never light,
always almost, never right
here, right now, right moment,

while clouds still cross skies
and trains still trail onwards,
distance never denied to those
on the right track.

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Photograph taken from a moving train somewhere outside of Lisbon, Portugal.

 

 

SNAKES AND SHEEP

/ deuxiemepeau / 3 Comments

 

We slither and snake
in united unison 
past the signals
and the stations
and the beggar
with his chanson,
trying to get
his chance on,
clambering to get
his way on,
chancing his way
on into pockets
of passengers
loosing patience.

We slither and snake
our manoeuvres 
along the carriages
of commuters 
preoccupied by i-tunes
on iPhones and
hand held computers
and fold away scouters
while a girl eyes a guy
in a muscle bound shirt
as another guy notices
the mini of her skirt
and dreams of dessert,
dreams of slithering,
sensual and slow,
along her carriage,
to drive his train
into her station
like he were Spartacus,
the Thracian,
now riding high
on the train’s vibration.

We slither and snake
through the darkness 
on tracks laid and loyal
unlike our own tracks
seasoned to spoil,
we light upon
platforms packed
with people panicking 
fretting about fitting,
fitting on, fitting in,
into trains and tracks 
and skirts and holes,
cyber lives
make us whole.

We slither and snake
and stand closer, 
strangers coming closer
to scents and smells
and stenches 
that choke us,
breaths breathing
on the backs
of tensed up necks
of strangers
struggling,
slithering and snaking 
on tracks that take us
back and forth
to and fro,
to work, to home,
to him, to her,
to passing parties
and improbable
possibilities.

We slither and snake 
as strangers we make
but we follow
the same track,
blind to the future
and who stands
behind our back.

We slither and snake 
and sheep,
baa baa
baa baa…

All Words by Damien B. Donnelly