Standing at the graveside I smell loss
the warm Autumn day turned damp
as the fog danced and swirled about
like ghosts of the past encircling
grieving relatives rend their garments
weeping openly while the children
huddle at their feet.
The rain fell harder
tapping on my shoulders
each drop reminding me
he’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone.
© Rebecca Sanchez 2013
This poem was written about this picture prompt.
Danger Jargon Junction
The gandy dancer inspected
the empty track ahead
seeing emeralds all the way
signaling the okay.
The crew expecting eight and sand
a normal run for hospital train
stuck with sisters for overhaul
left receiving the high ball.
Hobos climb the running boards
ride the deadhead line for free
going through dark territory
drunken lads reliving glories.
The bull and cinder dick
instead of on the watch
were busy going to beans
arguing in the canteen.
Treachery on the bridge ahead
caused to dynamite the train
plunging to their death’s they go
a cold and watery death below.
© Rebecca Sanchez 2017
Most of this is jargon I found in the Glossary of North American Railways and decided it would make a colorful poem. Research and time made this poem possible. I do like to play with vintage words and jargon.
Written with dVerse~Poets Pub.
Time flies without excuses
measured by decrepit faces
the pendulum weighs heavy
moments spent wanting more
in a split second
a reaper’s blade chiming the end.
© Rebecca Sanchez 2016
Written with Imaginary Garden With Real Toads.