Thanks, I like oldie worldy words sometimes

It's about the flow of the words, the highs and lows, rather than the meaning.

I never managed to finish a rubik's cube, far too awkward.

Hmmm. I find that more obscure than ever.

I thought it might be about politicians and the trusting (or not) fools they "serve".

Same here

Memoir of a Steam Train

My plume of steam, my whistle’s scream
Impressed when I shot under
The different ridge of every bridge,
A sound akin to thunder
And those who sat in me gazed at
The passing world in wonder.

I crossed a land the stations spanned,
I topped canals and horses,
The birds I trumped as pistons pumped,
Part of the rolling forces,
A comfy ride in countryside
Each passenger endorses.

Then diesel came into the frame,
It hurt to be regarded
Washed up and through, electric too
Made me appear retarded,
Not fast enough and out of puff,
By public choice discarded.

Not one MP would rescue me,
No socialist or Tory
But volunteers repaired my gears,
I’m chugging, what a story!
As coal revives the dream survives
Of steam trains in their glory.


©

Aaahhh yes! The romance of steam and the sound as the train surged over the shorter rails - hinamanoosh, hinamanoosh, hinamanoosh and then clatter, clatter, clatter, clatter over the points, over the points, over the points. No I haven't been drinking.

Have you ever noticed how the countryside moves when you're in a train? It's very curious; the land beside the line and the far distance move in the opposite direction from the train, but the middle distance seems to move in the same direction - if I remember correctly.

Mind you the trains got very grimy with the soot didn't they?

Or alamanoosh, alamanoosh as my old Nan used to say Biz They did get sooty but I didn't recognise the sensation you described. However, at times I've found static trains I'm on feel like they're moving, when in fact it's the train passing slowly by alongside creating the experience. Cripes, we'll be in the Twilight Zone soon

I can't stand political correctness but I'm quite uncomfortable with the word 'retarded'. It's in the steam train poem but only because I couldn't think of another rhyme. Though DS edit time ran out as ever I came up with the solution later on. Some poems are like that. It's lovely when you find the missing piece of the jigsaw though

When diesel came I lost the game
To progress then regarded
Electric lines beat my designs,
Compared to what the car did
Not fast enough and out of puff,
By public taste discarded.

If I should meet the right one

If I should meet the right one
I think somehow I’d know,
A little like Kate Winslet,
Not rich or famous though.

But looks are secondary,
A smile’s the thing that counts
And two’s required for laughter
In plentiful amounts.

Long drives out to the country
And if she’s fond like me
Of friendly village service,
We’d stop by for a tea.

She’d have to be a dreamer
Who lets the world amaze,
She’d have to sigh at sunsets
Engraving autumn days.

While perfect women bore me,
If ever dusk fell right
I'd love to see it shimmer
In hair Pre-Raphaelite.

Then I would write a poem
Announcing from the start
My love to her for freeing
This unrequited heart.


©

I'm feeling a strong sense of déjà vu this morning. I do hope you meet the right one. You never know what's round the corner.

By the way I prefer your original version. I thought retarded was a good word which fitted the circumstances.

Well sussed Biz - it's a repeat poem with a new last verse I should call it a stanza really, but I can't get into that word. I've never had any real education in poetry's form, so all the correct terms and intellectual stuff go over my head.

Thanks for your view on the steam train alteration Biz. I'm totally stuck on what to do I may ask for other opinions

I knew I'd seen it before, pretty last verse Musty.

very nice Musty.

My poem for a writing site's weekly challenge - "what's in the box?"

Lying

In my box of treasured memories they sensationally lie
the garter that slipped sensually from Mata Hari's thigh;
a bullet shot by a foe whose words were never his bond,
tabloid pages recalling the pleasure I had to co-respond.
The place I hide those medals that on my chest can't lie,
Monty gave'em to me, "the full" as I knew him on the sly.
Lying there I can hardly believe such trappings to be true,
or maybe I imagined them to be as writers are wont to do.

I wouldn't worry about that as you obviously don't need them. Verse seems clear enough to me.


I'm probably wrong anyway.

By the way your Nan's interpretation of the rail track's sound also rings a bell.

Ta Sandy - I don't write many love poems but I enjoyed piecing that one together


A very enjoyable tale of an over-active imagination Frank The thought of Monty in the nude is outrageous


Yep, we've pondered on hinamanoosh and alamanoosh before Biz When the decision comes in on 'retarded' or 'car did' I'll inform the thread

Convoluted Histories

Abe Lincoln he was an historical paragon
compared to your King Henry the Eighth;
for one thing he never executed his wife,
nor messed with yer Catherine of Aragon.
He had this incredible unfeasibly high hat,
suspicion is that he kept a pile of pancakes
there and syrup dripped down from his hair.
"Government of the people ... by the people,
for the people" ... Abe paused in his iconic
speech as on his head the stovepipe resolutely
remained, ... "suffering succotash! What rotten
luck! The damned hat's stuck on fast yet again.

blah blah blah


I'm in a desperate state of Equitorial Guinea

got a head full of Honduras

a tongue like Australia

with Canada arms that bind me



Got Chinese eyes

American thighs

and a heart thats in North Korea



Have the soul of Siberia

but thats just my theory yeah

My loves now a Russian winter



Im a Uruguay guy

you're a Greenland girl

we used to be so close

someone else you chose,

you're on the other side of the world



They say the world is your oyster

but the futures your clam...

you're still my miss saigon

I'm not your Vietnam

Good one for the internet age. I liked this.

ta, i write them from time to time with varying degrees of success but its cathartic and something to do

Love does make the world go round in a topsy turvy kind of way.

Priorities


No wisdom, money, position, power

will save us in our final hour

when the sands of time are running low

love wont stop the sands that flow



Those we love with all go away

but will we meet them again someday?



So why are we here?

Whats the point in it all ?

I guess to find some meaning

we have to work at it all



Enjoy the journey

and let love lead the way

coz as one generation comes

another passes away

LMAO, you're really on form Frank Somehow you've topped the vision of a naked Monty - I just know this image is going to creep in when I watch Steven Spielberg's film Bloody hilarious


What a great idea - geography as human emotion. I enjoyed the poem throughout but the ending's superb. Thanks for contributing Justmadeit


Indeed Sandy - all you need is love, as someone once observed


I've been working at finding the meaning since 1986. That's when it first dawned on me that life might mean more than acquiring material possessions and what job you do. I know the search won't stop now. Great poem again Justmadeit.

The thread's rocking

Thanks for the feedback

No problem - and I'm going to check out War Is A Lie tomorrow