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Poetry Magnum Opus

winter train


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In a carriage I watch a man

with cloud shaped eyebrows

as he sleeps, the movement

of his eyes isn't as accurate

as the groove of the train and

the stain on his shirt isn't as

as deeply red as the patch in

the sky threatening rain. In a

rhythmic incantation he starts to

speak-steam and smoke steam and

smoke, the pitch of his voice

reaches it's peak- he must have

reached the destination of his

first dream, straightening his

eyebrows as he wakes. I start

to unzip my cardigan in the stuffy

carriage.The eyes of passengers

looking out form tracks for the

horizon to run along.

We pass lampposts-the snow dressed

branches of a tree resembles a

chandelier. The call of a thrush

sat on a snow wrapped tree stump

isn't quite clear-he is the fire

in a lamp lighting a candle. A

digger picks up rubble, a man

dithers and has trouble with a

crossword clue, in a field an

owl hovers before targeting

a shrew. A mother sprays

deodorant-outside hundreds of

starlings gather into a murmuration.

The feet of a crow make no impression

at all on black snow, a mother's young

brood try to navigate her dark mood.

The snow-jeweled eyes of a scarecrow

do not offer lies, I watch his

shivering wrist and the passing of

a sheeted mist spread against the

window- a little boy pushes his nose

against the glass and the scarecrow

watches the boys diamond eyes pass.

I finish unzipping my cardigan revealing

an “I love Scarborough ” t-shirt.

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nicely done, got a little long in its current structure but it wasn't too much of a problem.


"Unbearable, isn't it? The suffering of strangers, the agony of friends.

There is a secret song at the center of the world, Joey, and its sound is like razors through flesh."


"I don't believe you."


"Oh come, you can hear its faint echo right now. I'm here to turn up the volume.

To press the stinking face of humanity into the dark blood of its own secret heart."

"There's a starving beast inside my chest
playing with me until he's bored
Then, slowly burying his tusks in my flesh
crawling his way out he rips open old wounds

When I reach for the knife placed on the bedside table
its blade reflects my determined face
to plant it in my chest
and carve a hole so deep it snaps my veins

Hollow me out, I want to feel empty"
-- "Being Able To Feel Nothing" by Oathbreaker


"Sky turns to a deeper grey

the sun fades by the moon

hell's come from the distant hills

tortures dreams of the doomed

and they pray, yet they prey

and they pray, still they prey"
-- "Still They Prey" by Cough


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You seem to have a penchant for trains. ;) I enjoyed this although agree with a.s. re: structure. A rhythm (bearing the train in mind,) would lend itself well to your choice of language. Benjamin

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