Sometimes the howl of a midnight train

[PrinceMyshkin]

Sometimes the howl of a midnight train
can break your heart. You’re in your bed
beside your sweetheart and you’ve just turned out
the lights. You cosy in for a soft, safe journey
further along the rails you’ve travelled
happily together, and then

––you hear it! Long and low
and with a loneliness
that will not be assuaged,
and you know, against your knowing,
you’re meant to be somewhere else.




Jerry Newman © 04Jan08

[firefangled]

I like this one. It's Wayward Windish, an old song sung by Gogi Grant in the late 1950s

It seems the train that takes us away prevails over the contrary.

It is an interesting archetype to explore.

[blazeofglory]

You have indeed something to present so beautifully in deed, as there are enigmas in life: at one end one is with his heart and at the other the ambience.
How can man manage? kind of maintaining balance.

[PrinceMyshkin]

I like this one. It's Wayward Windish, an old song sung by Gogi Grant in the late 1950s

It seems the train that takes us away prevails over the contrary.

It is an interesting archetype to explore.

Thanks. I'm not familiar with "Wayward Wind" & was intrigued to see that we had trains that followed upon each other. Course there's also "The Midnight Special," "This train" (is bound for glory, this train), "Union Train" (Oh, what is that I see yonder coming, coming...," "Rock Island Line" and the glorious "Wabash Cannonball."

Would that we could assemble a glee-club here to sing some of these great songs together!

[symphony]

Those last 2 lines speak volumes. Even if u cut the whole thing out and just keep the last 2 lines it'd be a fabulous poem in itself.

[quasimodo1]

To PrinceMyshkin: Beautiful poem and I know that balefull sound so well. quasi

[Countess]

The understatement is poignant - leaves one with a sense of empty melancholy. Alas, are you and FF soulmates, both writing about trains?

Personally, I prefer to sing...
Come on ride the train, the choo-choo, ride it...

[ampoule]

and my favorite...I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry...and forgive me Hank baby but I like to listen to Jimmie Dale Gilmore sing your song.

and then there's...500 Miles...

your poem makes me think of all the nights I sit up here listening to the trains howling, about five miles out of town.
you walloped me with those last two lines.

[PrinceMyshkin]

and my favorite...I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry...and forgive me Hank baby but I like to listen to Jimmie Dale Gilmore sing your song.

and then there's...500 Miles...

your poem makes me think of all the nights I sit up here listening to the trains howling, about five miles out of town.
you walloped me with those last two lines.

Zackly my intention! I'd completed the poem then asked myself Isn't there another line or two I can add to wallop the resident redhead?

[CdnReader]

Sometimes the howl of a midnight train
can break your heart. You’re in your bed
beside your sweetheart and you’ve just turned out
the lights. You cosy in for a soft, safe journey
further along the rails you’ve travelled
happily together, and then

––you hear it! Long and low
and with a loneliness
that will not be assuaged,
and you know, against your knowing,
you’re meant to be somewhere else.



Jerry Newman © 04Jan08
Wowowowow. This is fabulously and beautifully sad. I like it very much.

( What's with you and FF and trains? Was there a "train theme" day that I missed out on? ;) )

[TheFifthElement]

Wowowowow. This is fabulously and beautifully sad. I like it very much.

( What's with you and FF and trains? Was there a "train theme" day that I missed out on? ;) )

Yes, I thought this too. And why are trains associated with loneliness? Perhaps this is the conditions of those who don't use trains, trust me, loneliness is not permitted there, you get intimate with the next persons armpit very quickly!


and you know, against your knowing,
you’re meant to be somewhere else.

these are my favourite lines but I ask, where else would you want to be?

[CdnReader]

Yes, I thought this too. And why are trains associated with loneliness? Perhaps this is the conditions of those who don't use trains, trust me, loneliness is not permitted there, you get intimate with the next persons armpit very quickly!

Ah, but Canadian trains (perhaps U.S. too, I can't speak for that) are SOOO different from UK trains, Fifth. I had never stood up on a train, exposed to the next person's armpit, until I came here! LOL! My Canadian train memories are so different as to be of a different breed of animal entirely.

* * * * *


We tried to find a way to sleep
sprawled in a tangle of limbs.

When the porter realized we
had appropriated the two empty seats
facing us, he frowned, clucked,
and shook his head, wordlessly
reminding us that we'd only paid for
two seats, and should only therefore
occupy two seats, and no more.

With my left arm, I pulled you
closer to my side, needing to know
that you were safely asleep,
warm enough, and comfortable.

And I watched the prairie
slip by, in a blur of gold and blue.
I thought about the people who
lived in the farmhouses that dotted
the distant landscape, and watched
as the flaming sun set the fields
ablaze, the dusk turning it all
grey and purple.

I rested my forehead against
the coolness of the window,
and wondered about tomorrow.

.
cdn/06jan08
.

[downing]

Sometimes the howl of a midnight train
can break your heart. You’re in your bed
beside your sweetheart and you’ve just turned out
the lights. You cosy in for a soft, safe journey
further along the rails you’ve travelled
happily together, and then

––you hear it! Long and low
and with a loneliness
that will not be assuaged,
and you know, against your knowing,
you’re meant to be somewhere else.


Marvellous, Prince! I read this over and over again! Just amazing. Of course, the end is amazing, but I also loved this part:

You’re in your bed
beside your sweetheart and you’ve just turned out
the lights.

the description of the daily place where one lives is just great!

I really loved the beginning- about breaking heart... :) Wonderful poem!

Cdn, this is awesome! I like so much the description:


And I watched the prairie
slip by, in a blur of gold and blue.
I thought about the people who
lived in the farmhouses that dotted
the distant landscape, and watched
as the flaming sun set the fields
ablaze, the dusk turning it all
grey and purple.



You guys are so talented! Bravo!

[SleepyWitch]

these are my favourite lines but I ask, where else would you want to be?
hm.. yep, but sometimes you (or at least I) feel as if one should be somewhere else, although you don't know where and when you try to think of a place you should be you can't come up with any. so 'somewhere' = 'not here' but at the same time it's neither 'any old place, as long as it's not here' nor 'a definite place that is not here'. that's the feeling these two lines capture for me.
:confused: sorry.... :blush:

[PrinceMyshkin]

Yes, I thought this too. And why are trains associated with loneliness? Perhaps this is the conditions of those who don't use trains, trust me, loneliness is not permitted there, you get intimate with the next persons armpit very quickly!

The eternal, existential problem of being 5'1" in a world of people who average 5'8"!


these are my favourite lines but I ask, where else would you want to be?

That might be the essence of the loneliest loneliness, don't you think - sensing that there is some other place but not knowing where it is?

I'm reminded of Truman Capote's heartbreaking words during an interview: "There's something about me - something that just doesn't work."

[PrinceMyshkin]

hm.. yep, but sometimes you (or at least I) feel as if one should be somewhere else, although you don't know where and when you try to think of a place you should be you can't come up with any. so 'somewhere' = 'not here' but at the same time it's neither 'any old place, as long as it's not here' nor 'a definite place that is not here'. that's the feeling these two lines capture for me.
:confused: sorry.... :blush:

And then there's the inscription on WC Field's headstone: "I'd rather be living in Philadelphia."

[PrinceMyshkin]

We tried to find a way to sleep
sprawled in a tangle of limbs.

When the porter realized we
had appropriated the two empty seats
facing us, he frowned, clucked,
and shook his head, wordlessly
reminding us that we'd only paid for
two seats, and should only therefore
occupy two seats, and no more.

With my left arm, I pulled you
closer to my side, needing to know
that you were safely asleep,
warm enough, and comfortable.

And I watched the prairie
slip by, in a blur of gold and blue.
I thought about the people who
lived in the farmhouses that dotted
the distant landscape, and watched
as the flaming sun set the fields
ablaze, the dusk turning it all
grey and purple.

I rested my forehead against
the coolness of the window,
and wondered about tomorrow.

.
cdn/06jan08
.

But this is freaking GLORIOUS! I don't know how I happened to miss it!

And may I say, as rich and explicit as everything was up to that "grey and purple," the surprising twist at the end wrenched it into another - and compelling - dimension!

[Pendragon]

You might add to your songs "Midnight In Montgomery"...




Sitting on the edge of the scented bed
Her arm holding me so tight
I had to wonder what was wrong with me--
Just an old train passing by heard many times...
Why should it discomfort my embrace,
There was nothing I was doing that was wrong?
But I felt a chill inside of me so cold I thought death had come...

In my mind's sharp eye I could see a gravestone--
In a graveyard filled with flowers and oaks,
But try as I might I could not read the name upon the stone...
But it seemed I saw another lady
Darkly beautiful as an Elven Queen move slowly away...
Can it be that man can die and relive in another time and place?

Are the memories that haunt me now
Mine or those of another man that I have been?
That train jar loose a memory of that which has already been?
Was I suddenly taken with a feeling of guilt
That I was betraying someone long gone to their reward?
Haunted by a ghostly recollection from a past
That I will probably never fully recall?

Pendragon

[PrinceMyshkin]

You might add to your songs "Midnight In Montgomery"...




Sitting on the edge of the scented bed
Her arm holding me so tight
I had to wonder what was wrong with me--
Just an old train passing by heard many times...
Why should it discomfort my embrace,
There was nothing I was doing that was wrong?
But I felt a chill inside of me so cold I thought death had come...

In my mind's sharp eye I could see a gravestone--
In a graveyard filled with flowers and oaks,
But try as I might I could not read the name upon the stone...
But it seemed I saw another lady
Darkly beautiful as an Elven Queen move slowly away...
Can it be that man can die and relive in another time and place?

Are the memories that haunt me now
Mine or those of another man that I have been?
That train jar loose a memory of that which has already been?
Was I suddenly taken with a feeling of guilt
That I was betraying someone long gone to their reward?
Haunted by a ghostly recollection from a past
That I will probably never fully recall?

Pendragon


Oh, you're on the train, Dude! and travelling FIRST-CLASS! This is hauntingly beautiful.

[Sweets America]

I love your poem, Sweetheart, it is beautiful and very sad.

Edit: the only thing I would modify at your place would be the title.

[Countess]

Well MY trains are gothic, LOL: (I was mad at a very pretty young man when I wrote it)

THE LYING TRAIN

Telling tales of twisted Crucifixion
impale your stake into my ground
wrestling round till blood spews like
rain, like oozing oil from the terrorist
plant east of Afganistan.

You are a terrorist train undercover,
chugging muted by the dark pretense
and protestations that thou art not
a deceiving Ananias.

So blow your whistle loudly my dear,
blow it proudly, cavalier engineer!
Unleash the shrilly horn to
scream its second score!

Maybe another refrain will silence
this screeching inside my brain of
piston brakes and metal on metal

Hot steel like nails on chalkboard
tells the truth of another choo-choo
plummeting to its death on the
other side of the hill.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Well MY trains are gothic, LOL: (I was mad at a very pretty young man when I wrote it)

THE LYING TRAIN

Telling tales of twisted Crucifixion
impale your stake into my ground
wrestling round till blood spews like
rain, like oozing oil from the terrorist
plant east of Afganistan.

You are a terrorist train undercover,
chugging muted by the dark pretense
and protestations that thou art not
a deceiving Ananias.

So blow your whistle loudly my dear,
blow it proudly, cavalier engineer!
Unleash the shrilly horn to
scream its second score!

Maybe another refrain will silence
this screeching inside my brain of
piston brakes and metal on metal

Hot steel like nails on chalkboard
tells the truth of another choo-choo
plummeting to its death on the
other side of the hill.

(Note to self: Do NOT piss off the Countess!)

Very deft, my dear, and how wonderfully you carried the train conceit all the way through.

[PrinceMyshkin]

I love your poem, Sweetheart, it is beautiful and very sad.

Edit: the only thing I would modify at your place would be the title.

My love, you know how happy I am when you appreciate something I have written. About the title, however, I will not budge. To title the poem any other way, I believe, might be to attempt to direct someone in how to read the poem and in this case I don't want to do that.