Showing posts with label unrequited love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label unrequited love. Show all posts

Tuesday, 16 August 2022

“More Out-takes from Ol’ Ameriky” (The Uncollected Songbook Part 1.) There’s a train acomin’


                      There’s a train acomin’
         
                                    a roarin’ down the track
                      Don’t know where she’s goin’.
                       
                     Know she ain’t acomin’ back.

                      Her face is at the window.
                       
                     There’s a wailin’ from the stack
                      ’cos the smoke and cinders
                       
                     know there ain’t no lookin’ back.
       
                      Dreamgirl where you goin’ ?
                       
                     Dreamgirl where you been?
                      Dreamgirl take me with you
                       
                     on our midnight train.

                      Thought you done with smilin’
                       
                     when you slammed the door
                      now you don’t quit smilin’ ’cos
                       
                     that train ain’t stoppin’ here no more.

                      ’Cos, darlin’, you know
                       
                     ’cos, darlin’, you know,
                       
                     you know, you know, you know . . .
                      Sure as hell you know . . .
                        
                    that train ain’t stoppin’ here no more . . .
 
                      There’s a train acomin’
         
                                    a roarin’ down the track
                      Don’t know where she’s goin’.
                       
                     Know she ain’t acomin’ back . . .

                      and, brother, sure as hell, nothin’ll bring her back.

Sunday, 29 December 2019

Juvenilia . . . A Teenage Notebook . . .


A grief ago*

A grief ago
the fire burned itself out
where this small dog now
dares to paw the ashes.
I shall not shout
at one too meagre
to tempt my
 injustices.




In the Manner of Walter Savage Landor.

  O prosper not the past
that we may eat upon
a harvest lost, laid waste
    by our own carrion.**



*A coherent line from a word-salad-poem by Dylan Thomas.

** A reference to overpopulated London and the Thames, polluted since the early 19th Century.
The prince destined to be King Henry IX died, aged 18, from typhoid fever from a swim in the Thames
near Richmond in October 1612.