|among paint tins and gas masks
tell me again Papi, about the old railway station
the waiting room, the benches, the floor
scattered with sunflower seeds, you a child
suitcases made out of paperboard
the tea strainers, the baskets of welsh cakes
the refugee train from the old smoke --
always late. you'd look at your watch
Samuel by your side, the memories still exist;
that Llanelli railway, that stopped line
of childhood, the line of a life
in your hand, a child's hand-
painting, in an old paperboard suitcase.
27 Apr 07
Rated 8.3 (8.9) by 3 users.
Active (3): 6, 9, 10
Inactive (7): 4, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10
(define the words in this poem)
(154 more poems by this author)
(2 users consider this poem a favorite)
Add A Comment:
that's gotta be a tough
thing to have to do.
someday i'll be doing it
as well. i'll have help though,
and the reminiscing will be
well to you...
i'm trying hard to get a collection of stuff together about it but i get distracted by all sorts of innapropriate subjects like orangutang's wangs and the history of common whores and buttons
lovely poem, lovely. yes.
simple and direct into history.
beautiful images of reminiscence.
this is a lovely poem.
the title sets it all up so well.
10/11 are fucking incredible.
thank you for the inspiration.
This is beautiful...
This is fantastic. A poem from the old country. The story is all too clear, the sentiment staining all that is listed. Visual memory strung into an old man's hand.
Plus the poet has intimate knowledge of the particular things, not just vague references.
a retelling of a memory of someone elses memory, or the other way around.
This is such a sensitive and touching poem. Simply beautiful
No i just don't think so, the first four words make the poem long and tedious, unbelievable, and strange, strange in an unpoetry-like-way. Speech does not work that way and I am certain that poetry will crumble, as indeed it has for me.
Alas, a perfect example of the poet commanding high marks by virture of being a good poet. A good poet does not always create a good poem, although I wish it were so...
I just thought now that your poetry has influenced me also, if you were a regular poet and this were in the top rated I would have said, "You have to be kidding, you are kidding right?"
I'm questioning the syntax at the end of L3 and into L4. It doesn't seem to connect very well or maybe it's the way I'm attempting to read it. You have:
"you a child
suitcases made out of paperboard..."
I'm wondering if there should be some form of punctuation after child before the line break??? Also in L8, who's Samuel? There's only a mention of him but no real explanation. Something seems off here. Plus, the body of the poem is one huge clusterfuck which makes for difficult reading. The images are nice, but the structure seems too congested.
line 3 sort of hangs there, maybe some puncutation?