A Poem for Thursday....

I was asked by @neviepiecakes aka Natasha Collins...lovely daughter..if I would post some pics for seven days from the different series that I've taken on camera. Thankyou Natasha.
This photo is one of three from a travel series. It now belongs to a great friend. I'm sure that there are references in this pic from wonderful international photographers...and so I give them thanks for their blogs and hope that I may have learnt from them and their skills.

I often think poetry when I take pics...and this little poem is very apt for the feelings often there when on a long journey...and you are really nowhere!

To Travel

To travel is to be nowhere.

You’re not here

And you’re not there.

So,

If you get the wrong train to somewhere,

Or you get off at

The wrong station for somewhere,

Does that mean

That you have completely disappeared?

And when the train gets to somewhere

Will they find that you are nowhere.

And how will you get back from there?

I'll post the other two in the series for you. 

 The start of the journey

All change at Euston

A Poem for Thursday....Beyond Silence (with many thanks to S. Heaney)

Is it the rhythm of the wheels on the motorway surface or the rapidly changing landscape that stimulates my mind so much when we take long road trips. The radio is on...sharply relaxed in the seat by the potter...watching out for fools on the road. They love roads do fools...learnt that by my father's side as he taught me to drive in my teenage years.

Beyond Silence
Something beautiful happened
On our way down the M6
England's main blood line.
A great flock of starlings
and a murmuration! While
Snow spat down on us and 
The wind struck hard as iron.
Leaving us with only
A holy heavy silence.

Human

At twentyone I left the land
And travelled on the Irish Sea.
I reached a southern port
And taught the children
On the chalky hills.
They thought I was a foreigner

French perhaps.

At twentysix I travelled north
And settled in a smokey town,
Where words were old and beer
Was drunk on Friday nights
In crowded bars.
They thought I was a foreigner.

Scotch perhaps.

In troubled times I went back west
To where the planted people lived.
And dodged the bombs and
Feared the fires where city folk
Still walked and worked.
I felt I was a foreigner.

English perhaps.

Now forty years have come and gone.
And wars are fought and lives are lost,
And fights are won or
So they say though where
Or when I do not know.
And none of us are foreigners.

Human perhaps.

...this is my response to the prompt put up by Marina on DeVerse Poets Pub today.
I have posted this one before but the time seems right in so many ways world wide for it to  be part of DeVerse  this time.....thankyou Marina.

A Poem for Thursday

The Midlanders

..a man was killed on the tracks, today.

I waited on platform two

for the train coming down from Glasgow.

Today... damp,cold,misty day in the north.

This middle England...

(Trains with no drivers)

of semis and trees...

(Drivers with no trains.)

ponies,cows and sheep.

A reassuring voice

reminds us

to take care when stepping down onto the platform.

Patient passengers

gaze silently

through

steamed up carriage windows .

Travelling in timelessness

each cocooned in their own dramas.

Business men,young mothers,grandparents.

Wheels turn almost without noise

over tracks...

and

in the trees

crows await rich pickings.

Going home
this is England
at it's most crowded.
Middle and everything.
All languages, all sizes, all ages.
All trying to get home.
Some get on the train.
Some  abandon the try....
Far from home...
Far from the destination.

Now I believe what they tell me...
...everything in everyway
ends in chaos.

Open Link Night ~ Week 70

Linking up to dVerse this week...it's been a while since I had the time to do it and ....miss it!!!