Paper Dreams
Paper Dreams.
On a grotty Northern Rail from Manchester to Leeds,
a poet feeds his love for words by
pouring his heart out onto crumpled receipts.
A baby bleats.
The clink of the track as rhythmic as heart beats.
The nasal voiceover floats through the carriage
and bloats the ears of tired commuters;
spiral eyed from a day in front of computers.
Nothing but a coffee cup to see them through.
Feeling as blue as the torn fabric on the seats
where teenagers with scuffed trainers lazily plonk their feet.
Coughing, wheezing, sniffling, sneezing,
your breath dances before your eyes.
The wave of the home time rush
is a sea of washed out jackets and ties.
Lives are interwoven like spider webs on the window,
sparkling through the condensation.
Fate goes about his usual business as you
drift from station to dismal station.
Women juggle designer bags
and children trudge behind.
There's a tango of twisted headphones
as a thousand journeys begin to unwind.
The ordinary, the outcast, the eccentric, the poet
are all much more than they seem.
They’ve a pocket full of ambition
and a notebook of paper dreams.
Martin Elder
Thu 9th Jul 2015 23:34
Great imagery and a lovely flowing pace . I can imagine the ride. I find that Northern rail provides a good stimuli for poems.