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From a Window on the 6:15, by joefrey
US

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Description:
my rendition of a train ride to NYC from Poughkeepsie... You can find this poem in my self-published book "Variations"

From a Window on the 6:15

I am mindful that some famous writers
like Sylvia Plath, Amy Lowell and Billy Collins
have, at one time, walked these same platforms
and traveled these same tracks.

I further imagine Plath, at the Poughkeepsie station,
late for the 6:15, grabbing an everything bagel
with cream cheese and a coffee with cream, as I have,
makes me feel like I have something to do with her explosions.

Then I wonder, as I always do:
Did they see the same scenery streaking by through these thick windows?
Windows like movie screens.
And together we separately write our pieces.

Did the writers try capturing a moment as it zipped by like the flash of a camera, to store away in memory banks? To be tucked neatly into poems?
Or perhaps they slumped into slumber while the train took snapshots.

The small, insignificant station stops along the river
bob up like driftwood, then fall back away and fade into an early mist. The tracks follow the swell of the land as the train continues to make stops at stations whose names Ive mostly forgotten.

Was there a sudden rush of imminent muse that
flooded their notebooks influenced perhaps by the Hudson? How inspirational a moment captured as waves careening against the river bluff. Wondering also why there are no backyards in Manhattan.

Debris scattered like discarded poems dot the landscape in vast portions of wasteland hidden away under bridges. Secret areas secluded by beds of thick reeds, like slats on wooden fences
where vagabonds and runaways crashed - storing brown bags of fragmented belongings.

Splintered telephone poles supported by guide wires taut under stress, leaned over chilled swells; dead limbs dipped, puncture an otherwise painted and inspiring countryside. These things I imagine provoked their muse as it saturates mine now.

I wake from my reverie as the train shrieks into Grand Central station. As the train whines to a stop we grab our things from the seat and barely managing our excitement, we make our way through the thick reeds of people into the crisp October air -
careful not to leave anything behind.

Description: my rendition of a train ride to NYC from Poughkeepsie...

You can find this poem in my self-published book "Variations"

Photo Posted: Feb 21,2013 Photo Viewed: 370

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