The Night Ride Poem by Kenneth Slessor
The Night Ride
Gas flaring on the yellow platform; voices running up and down;
Milk-tins in cold dented silver; half-awake I stare,
Pull up the blind, blink out - all sounds are drugged;
the slow blowing of passengers asleep;
engines yawning; water in heavy drips;
Black, sinister travellers, lumbering up the station,
one moment in the window, hooked over bags;
hurrying, unknown faces - boxes with strange labels -
all groping clumsily to mysterious ends,
out of the gaslight, dragged by private Fates,
their echoes die. The dark train shakes and plunges;
bells cry out, the night-ride starts again.
Soon I shall look out into nothing but blackness,
pale, windy fields, the old roar and knock of the rails
melts in dull fury. Pull down the blind. Sleep. Sleep
Nothing but grey, rushing rivers of bush outside.
Gaslight and milk-cans. Of Rapptown I recall nothing else.
I want to please Shrek. He roars a mighty roar, as he fills my with his love. My dad walks in. Shrek looks him straight in the eye, and says, " It's all ogre now" . Shrek leaves through my window. Shrek is love. Shrek is life
This is cringe, CRINGE ALERT, CRINGE. This poem is really really cringe
You wanna know how I got these scars? My father was an ancap and a gamer and one night he acts cringier than usual. Mommy takes the PS4 because he's being bad. He doesn't like that. Not. One. Bit. So, me watching, he roundhouse kicks her, laughing while he does it. Turns to me and says " Why so cringey? " Comes at me with the phone. " Why so cringey? " Sticks the phone in my face.
This poems explains about the beauty of your mother, her kindness, her beauty and her love
Rappville, north of Grafton I think, but another school of thought thinks Bargo, near Camden NSW.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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12/5/2024 4:00:03 PM # 1.0.0
this has no good language or grammar