The Reverend Hugh was a mild mannered chap
Never one to be found in a flip or a flap
...
A Poem Is A Train
A poem is a train
Rhythmic lyrics hug together like
the passengers are words, stuck to their seats
some deep in inspired conversation
And others uncomfortable, strangers in the same space
Stacked together in their seats, neat.
Commas hang loosely in the aisles
As the poet, inspects, and strolls down the stanzas
stamping the lyrical travellers in to order
The train heaves to a trundling shuffling legato
Its carriages are cadences
linked by buffered themes
Stopping starting sticking to the tracks
heads to a layby or whips past the inspiration station
missing its purpose.
Procrastinating leaves on each line
Prevent it reaching its inevitable destination
A full stop, a pause to refuel
The writer prepares the journey
Buys the ticket
and hopes the journey, is eventful and beautiful
A running commentary that thrills at each tilt.