Still Life
I walked on to a worn
Gravel path one evening
Last week. On either side were
Few rows of trees.
Above the stars were
Partially obscured by
Slow moving clouds.
I was reminded of a dream;
Felt like I had known the
Place some other time,
Some alternate way.
I felt at home.
It was magical.
That night I slept and
Returned to my home.
I return often.
I walk along the
Compacted gravel;
Silence envelopes my feet.
Trees on my flanks
Rumble rhythms of approaching
Ghost trains, rustling their
Cold leaves while the
Unseen shudders past.
On top of me the clouds
Roll restlessly concealing,
Uncovering the endless universe
Beyond. Suddenly beside the trees,
Upon my commands and gestures,
An orange wall of power shoots
Upwards, leaving me in a tunnel
Surrounded by green leaf and
Flowing walls, crackling
Like fireworks on a cold night.
I like it. I
Am the power.
I am the
Station-master.
I never
Stop
Moving.
� Joseph Tradescent, 29/10/2004
Poems
Home
Add message to Message Board
View Message Board
Contact details!
Review the Terms and Conditions
