off rail

off rail

 

 

deserted train station

booths with barred windows

ticket machines in broken pieces

 

i took the train to everywhere

from this old structure

in college days

 

when i read books for nurture

spent long looks at nature

from the passenger car window

saw my reflection

 

a life i would lead in future

nature

nurture

procure a spot on that ghost ride

 

i have learned much

since that station ended

much like the classic novel

 

apropos to nothing

saved on the seat

as i detrained

 

my eyes to look back

i still have the stub

of that ticket

 

i still have that old book

with torn cover

much like the facade

i wear

 

looking out that window

and the blur of scenery

that can only slow down

 

if that old station

reinvents itself

along with my off track

imagination

 

that fell asleep

with the sound of the wheels

on rail.

 

erin-cilberto

9/27/23

Reviews

[Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn..]

Jacob,

Truly, Life as it goes, is quite similar to a Train, that grinds, rumbles, and roars, until we simply cannot discern between yesterday, today, or tomorrow anymore, in having become sensitized to the ever present roar of the grinding wheels going round and round until their sound becomes so much a deafening defining part of our daily reality that they, as noisy sounds of Life's loves, Life's experiences, Life's hurts and disappointments, Life's Losses simply fades from view of our minds brainwashed by the noise that has become the static noise of Life itself, to leave our hearts and minds wandering aimlessly askew ... Yes! ... I enjoyed this Poem ... And, as you can well see, was touched by it as well ...

Marve

Marve

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your kind words, Marve,
j.

[AYVID N]

Stubs of old tickets...and perhaps boarding passes...of such sentimental value for all the journeys taken...with a fresh, young mind and lots of dreams ahead. That old train station feels like an old home that dissolved into time, taking with it all our life's precious impressions, associations and memories. The poet longs for it to return, build itself back up in reverse motion. I felt sad for the poet and myself. I wish we could go back in time, sometimes...

[jacob erin-cilberto]

me too...I feel that pang of longing.
thanks for your understanding words, Divya,
j.

[Vol]

Erin,
Poems like this are the very best, and why it is ingrained in my bones. To sit quietly with eleven verses to contemplate, assimilate, and relate to my own experience, like a conversation where you think of a response to each word as it is spoken. It is why poetry has been the standard means of communicating philosophy, identity, and insight. Which is also why it is in such disrepute in our shallow, mindless 21st century.
Vol

[jacob erin-cilberto]

ah but there are still some poets keeping the real meaning of the genre alive.
AT least we hope that is true.
Thank you, Vol,
j.

[Vol]

Erin,
I have a professor friend who told me some twenty years ago that we are the last literary generation. I have lived during the time of Steinbeck, Faulkner, Frost, Eliot, Sandburg... most of those mentioned in The four or five inch thickness of the Norton Anthology of Modern English... The version that covers the same period of the twenty-first century will be considerably thinner. Is there a poet alive today that almost every "man on the street," would recognize? Actually, I believe we are the last generation of Western Culture...
Vol

[Cherrie Palmer]

The sound of the rails- what a excellent sound and feeling. The slight sway of the car harmonizing with sounds of the train. Funny how seeing the old ticket brings it all back.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I used to ride on the Illinois Central...makes me think of Arlo Guthrie...
the ride to Chicago.
thanks, Cherrie,
j.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Indeed reminiscing is powerful if you let it be. As always you capture the sentiment and display it in a few choice words. The repeated illiteration lent itself well to this thought provoking piece Jacob.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your words, John,
j.

[Maximus]

Well penned my friend, it was a great experience going through this poem which carries deep effective thought... I really enjoyed reading it.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you, Maximus,
j.

[Chris Shaw]

Nostalgic write dear J. I loved steam trains, both for the journey and for train spotting. My brother and I would stand on Roughdown bridge and get lost in a cloud of steam when the trains rattled through. They all had wonderful names like the Royal Scot’s Grey or Lord Kitchener. More recently I would journey the 200 miles to Torquay by train. Loved a window seat and following the coastline round Devon. Thank you for reviving some lovely memories.

Chris

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Those names are very cool...and nothing like a window seat to look out and at the same time see our reflection,
j.

[Chris Shaw]

I prefer the scenery J. Don’t wish to be reminded of the advancing years:)

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

Just loving your metaphors here Jacob
I took a ride with you and didn’t want the train to stop

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you, Julie...as long as we don't go through the little towns too fast.
j.

[Julie McCarthy (juliespenhere)]

Then they blur and fade into a woosh

[redzone]

as we get older, remember, we come to see our train rides and stations in life are now, dilapidated or even gone,,, nature, nurture, all speed by and we are often left with self-doubt and wishful thoughts about what we could have done differently (re-invent).... alas, as we near that last stop, all we can do is be who we have become and continue to learn, and to find the words to spread out on the page...that is, after we wake up from the train ride nap...

your poem combines a taste of nostalgia and melancholy... train rides will do that to ya...

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I always found it easy to sleep on the train...thank you for your words,
j.

[Arundass TP]

Beautiful past scenes created by writing a wonderful poem. Good work 👍

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your kind words, Arundass.
j.