Travelling, not arriving

[PrinceMyshkin]

Between stations
one is seldom more
than 3/4 oneself
at best.
When will this train come to rest?

You scurry from one love
to the next, afraid of being too late
or of failing the next test, but
when will this train come to rest?

Some trains are terminus-averse
and slow down proportionately
as the station draws near
while the terminus calls out
its endless, futile request:
when, oh when, will this train
come finally to rest?

[CdnReader]

Yes, my friend.... I couldn't agree more. This is painfully beautiful.

[symphony]

I read it at least 5 times, and now i'll go read it again.

It is after several days that a poem made me think (I guess teenagers like me dont want to think much these days. + a lazy one like me never would.)... It's beautiful and very thought-provoking, Prince.

Anyway, I'll go read it again.

[Sweets America]

Between stations
one is seldom more
than 3/4 oneself
at best.
When will this train come to rest?

You scurry from one love
to the next, afraid of being too late
or of failing the next test, but
when will this train come to rest?

Some trains are terminus-averse
and slow down proportionately
as the station draws near
while the terminus calls out
its endless, futile request:
when, oh when, will this train
come finally to rest?

I love it, Sweet Jer. I love the image of the train, and yes, how it reveals your impatience! This restless state of mind can be consuming, but in a way, it also makes us feel alive. Reminds me of what Sandy told me. I think this poem is going to be one of my favorite of yours, after the wonderful 'Intimations'. I love how this poem can be read through several levels. The train of life, the train bringing you to various destinations, the train of your life which meets the train of someone else's life. The train you took two days ago. God.

[RPMI]

Between stations
one is seldom more
than 3/4 oneself
at best.
When will this train come to rest?

You scurry from one love
to the next, afraid of being too late
or of failing the next test, but
when will this train come to rest?

Some trains are terminus-averse
and slow down proportionately
as the station draws near
while the terminus calls out
its endless, futile request:
when, oh when, will this train
come finally to rest?

This poem is fantastic! I like all of the imagery included within it. It may just be my crazy mind, but i feel that there are numerous meanings and themes related to this poem.

[Sweets America]

This poem is fantastic! I like all of the imagery included within it. It may just be my crazy mind, but i feel that there are numerous meanings and themes related to this poem.

Couldn't agree more! :thumbs_up :banana: :banana: :banana:

[PrinceMyshkin]

This poem is fantastic! I like all of the imagery included within it. It may just be my crazy mind, but i feel that there are numerous meanings and themes related to this poem.


My duty as I see it is to be faithful to some core image or intuition that gives birth to the poem. Perhaps the dominant image is one of those Jungian archetypes, in which case you have a comparable one in your psyche... No, you aren't crazy!

[packersfan]

This poem's great!
How long would it take you to write something like this?

[Virgil]

A nice ittle poem Prince. It sounds like a song with the repeated last line and internal rhymes. I really liked the openinng stanza:

Between stations
one is seldom more
than 3/4 oneself
at best.
When will this train come to rest?
Do you think it's finished though? It seems like there should be more. Could be just me though.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A nice ittle poem Prince. It sounds like a song with the repeated last line and internal rhymes. I really liked the openinng stanza:

Do you think it's finished though? It seems like there should be more. Could be just me though.

Forgive me for looking a gift horse in the mouth, but I chafed a bit at the condescension in "nice little poem." That said, every poem I write is something of a negotiation with myself. Inasmuch as we each contain more than one persona, mine are on the one hand the solitary singer and on the other the Rabbi manque, whom I try to suppress or at least to tone down. If I had gone even one syllable further with "Travelling, not arriving," I anticipated that the Rabbi would have got up on his portable soap-box and I didn't want to allow that to happen.

There was no more song left in me, so I hoped, as I often do, that the listener would hear the rest of the song in him- or herself.

[PrinceMyshkin]

This poem's great!
How long would it take you to write something like this?


Sorry it took me so long to get around to responding to this, but the answer is 72 years and several months...