hi,
how about writing poetry? i don’t get to many chances to share my poetry/ upon this occasion-i thought i might as per the following entitled “THE INVISIBLE EDWARDIAN TRAIN.” I wrote a book of poetry-unpublished as of yet/ this poem
(copy write pending please) has coincidently-a hint of fashion of an edwardian era…hope you like it, thanks david patrick
THE INVISIBLE EDWARDIAN TRAIN by david patrick
Consider-some out-dated books, unworthy to be shelved for the next
Generation, and only sold a garage sale,
You know those-
1970’s Sociology books? Did they ever pan out?
This book of ‘utopia,’ there reading promises made, not kept;
Such answers to happiness, claimed to be solved with social engineering
With a big-gigantic actions.
Dusty and damp, (I open the pages)
Finding a pleasant antique photo pressed.
An old black and white photo tells how love must have been
(As I hold it for the longest time)
Images awaken-as if a great American-romantic novel, taken from a shelf,
Now a movie playing on the old photo’s surface.
Two characters are in Edwardian dress- on their honeymoon
Two pioneers-born and bred.
A honey moon must record memory for others back home,
Forever captured by the camera man
Who holds the cord and trigger gauge,
To open the lens,
To make the glass and silver oxide film,
To make the paper print;
A photo remembering.
On the right, Mr. Jebahdia Collinsworth;
Offering a ready arm, bent angled inviting for Ms.Collinsworth.
Arm-in-arm, close, side-by-side,
Only in the style of new neat hats,
Tell difference in personality of each man or women,
His hat is worn black and tie conservative,
Yet, you can’t help but notice a lady of the sea-
Ms Collinsworth shows off-bright with attention
Her hat worn-white feather extension,
Crowning in relaxed slant
Higher and higher, all rising,
As if a top cabin of a cruise line ship-upon a sea gull perching;
Higher than the tall man standing next to her.
I see the simple act, the smile of lovers-
I hold the photo that speaks to me,
Typical once people did not smile for photos.
It takes two to smile-
Spontaneous grins being shared with happiness
Emerge from the old photo’s surface.
The steam engine is parked- exhausting busy steam
Near a wheel-hissing,
Expanding in the cool mountain air,
Jumping as if pop corn,
Collecting-into a big imaginary bag,
I hold the old photo and almost hear-
Her smile is so big and loud-that can be seen,
And heard louder than the popcorn steam.
Pop, pop, popping
Drowning out the chorus of flying V
Of Canadian geese-now silent,
Flying free from the old photo’s surface.
The sea is far away.
Trains escape from the sea to the mountains;
So to couples must escape sometimes.
The atmospheric mountain rises in the distant forest,
Home to shy untamed creatures- grizzly and cubs, elk herd, wolf packs-
That cannot be domesticated living there,
The same mountain thought to have been conquered by train tracks,
Natural things can yield the fabric of dress
Cotton plant, sheep, and silk worm; linen, wool, and silk,
Yards-and-yards in only one dress, pleated press,
Long dress, old fashioned and draping to the ankles.
Who has time to worry of the rose garden-barb and briar-that it had been torn?
Even with small-corset waist-(She is comfortable-with herself.)
The train conductor points to luggage compartment.
Jebahdia signals, by hand, to new passengers arriving.
The men walk accidently in the camera-in the background-
Of whom could have been a mystery?
Had they not been captured to toil, grasp, pull, tug on luggage,
From the Spanish armada of trunks with clothes,
It is chosen from all the rest.…one of the best-dress for walking.
Now supposedly, the train stop junction is only for a few minutes
But, shown in the face of the man, to the left-impatiently are the eyes,
Remembering the schedule. .
I grasp the old photo being entertained watching
The conductor takes glances at a pocket watch;
I hear click-it’s closed. He is making sure of his train.
Adding an expression of ‘hurriedness,’
Pacing on wooden planks.
Now,
A ladies’ pocket watch dangles, unobserved from the wife’s waist belt-
Without a care-(the way it supposed to be)
She is not aware of its swing-as the rhythm of a pendulum.
That train’s tonnage of iron and power—
Through the distance of the vale-up the mountain
Train stations are for quick stops
Ms Collingsworth waits for no train.
The train waits for she!
Feminine power is more…
Powerful enough to stop a train.
Looking at the old photo, I am impressed with the absence of fear
Shoulder to shoulder,a husband does hold her.
yet,keep polite space with grace
arm-in-arm
Wife and husband walk mobilize bolder,pace.
Jogging a memory of modern couples who show less affection
The garage sale is open-I bought only the antique photo, readily.
Returning the book of pseudo-utopia, 1970’s social studies,
(Promises were made-unkept).
They still study society.
A big-gigantic action, social plans, sweeping change:
They prefer to visit false places-
They kick a man every time when he is down.
I had seen it with my own eyes, where he had lain…
Not like it used to be, enough love to go around,
Glowingly alive on the old photo’s surface
Wife and husband knew their promise, kept elated!
I hold an intriguing photo, aware of invisible things,
Not a big-gigantic action-rather,
Small things, only a simple act to be accountable –to LOVE.