The Poetry of Life

The Train Ride

Out in the distance, there it lies
A dark spot in the horizon almost hidden from the eyes.
Clothed in robes of steel and wrapped in foggy clouds,
Its feet march forward, sending sparks of its presence throughout.
And although far away it may seem -

Like a stubborn speck on a well designed gown,
Its arrival will come, to change the plans that we keep
And usher forth a new beginning - a new sound.
Listen carefully! The train is coming!
Look carefully! The train will be here!
Get your ticket ready for the ride.

The ticket has no coding in verbs, or nouns, or words
The only markings on it are some wrinkles due to folds.
It has no numbers on its margin.
Nor some time indicating its coming.
Instead, stamped on it
are the love, the pain, and the fears.
And marked also
 the joy, the laughs, and the tears.
The hands of the clock can be merciless
So, says the smudge, the tare, and the wear.
There is not enough time
So, says the smooth, the new, unaware
That the train ride is for everyone because it is fair.


And so comes the train with echoing blast in the air.
At first it was far and now it is there.
Where it will go? The destination is unknown.
But climb aboard, all must do, for its known
That the choice in most times is not yours.

The Memory Well

Those concrete streets stretch for miles

Sometimes leading you through paths without smiles.

Its paved ground seems to holler

Through the cacophony

Of the artificial wild.

Its red, yellow, and green lights don’t give sight

Its towers seem to offer not delight.

Its light posts only guide

The moving rubber of the night.

Like an assembly line without will,

Us humans take our steps

Moving hesitantly forward to a future that’s unclear.

And so its not enough, sometimes

For the mind and the heart

To venture down pitiless roads

Of empty desires and logic gone wild.

Thus, we step

On the golden foliage of time.

We look up at the sturdiness of wooden arms extending high

- at green leafs sustained by light.

At the river for its refreshing old age

And feel the breeze gently giving us wings.

Amidst all this life, there it is,

The well which we like

To visit sometimes

When we want to escape,

When we want to cry,

When we want to laugh,

Or when we want to just sigh.

And from that deep and dark bottom

We reach for a time that has gone by.

We let down the buckets down that well

And fill it to the rim with memories

And Love.

Oh, that I may take a glass from that well.

That it may quench some of my thirst.

That’s its water can cool my mind

And bring feeling to a numb heart.