The rumble of passing trains,
going where they’ve always gone
at times we knew
and could set our watches by,
their metronomic clatter,
their iron rail rhythm
remorselessly bending nature
to their will;
Pressing on through the seasons
the rumble of passing trains;
Unfolding the countryside at
which passengers are staring,
watching and waiting
for their destinations to arrive,
as if by magic,
outside of their carriage windows,
Oblivious to the locomotive’s
kinetic brutality beating down
the miles as houses roll past
like a tracking shot in a film,
where the footage repeats in loops
and in time-less labyrinths
of their own purpose and making
and unmaking and remaking,
till the metal leviathan
heaves its last breath
and sighs contentedly,
at ease,
on time,
at the platform,
where no-one disembarks.
This poem takes the reader on a journey through time to a bygone era yet also manages to link it to the present through allusions and similes
The beautiful poem paints the picture of a train rumbling through the countryside and reminds you of how futile life’s journey eventually proves to be.
Evocative and allegorical,the poem takes the reader on a ride(no pun intended) through the countryside of a different era .Larkinesque! A delightful read.
An allegory per excellence,