1018 - Trainspotting

Another trip up north to Newcastle
Another chance to see some scenery
Another chance to see girls and ogle
On yet another long slow train journey
But the nice girls they never sit by me
They walk past empty seats and sit elsewhere
Then, after they have passed, immediately
Some guy sees nothing wrong in sitting there
And I think to myself, a wasted fare
No-one to stare or glance at (all subtle,
Out of the corner of my eye, quickly)
Why do girls do this? It seems so unfair
And silly, since it’s so predictable
Some other guy will sit by them, not me
Thur 18 June 2009

969 - Hotel bed

I’m writing this here on my hotel bed
So that I can go out and drink my fill
And, when I get back, can empty my head
And bladder, hop in bed, exit the real
Scenic train ride to York, hill after hill
Until, after Leeds, Yorkshire land turns flat
A pleasant spring walk, Minster’s clanging bell
Celebrating or warning, but of what?
Our meeting, as expected, filled with chat
Big mouths that mustn’t be interrupted
Big and small thoughts, it all made John feel ill
But still, that long agenda has been brought
Close to the end, and that’s what we wanted
Tomorrow’s session all gently downhill
Thur 30 Apr 2009

947 - Life in a day

This little man has had a busy day
Was dreaming about cricket on the beach
And I chased the ball in a lazy way
By driving my car after it, but each
Time I need rest someone always must reach
My eardrums with a shout or song, and so
It proved at 3:15 am, some French
Drunkard woke me up! I drifted back slow
Into a doze, then up at six; you know
I had to catch a train and plane today
To Northern Ireland to see Martin; such
A long meeting, then home. I said I’d go
To Hebden Bridge music night; saw Deb play
Her flute, I sang, and spoke in rhyming speech
Wed 8 Apr 2009

901 - Transports of delight

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my good God
I so, so nearly missed that bus back home
Been down to London again; things seemed good
Plenty of time after the Millwall game
To reach Victoria coach station again
But at Stockwell I chose the wrong platform
Not Victoria, but a Northern Line train
Is what I hopped on to! With some alarm
I instantly knew my mistake: the harm
Done, had to stay on till Oval, but would
There be time to catch the coach, my mind groaned
Like metal wheels on metal tracks, forlorn
Ran through Victoria… Arrivals! No good!
Departures…Gate 20... Wave driver down!!!
Sat 21 Feb 2009

878 - Poetry can be fun

It’s late, and I’ve had one or ten whiskies
Been to a poetry night, read some stuff
By God, it was a bit cold, felt I’d freeze
But now I’m back home, feel a bit more tough
Read two poems I wrote on the chuff chuff
That took me home from Glasgow yesterday
Not too bad, since both were quite off the cuff
One about Burns Night, one at close of day
As train sped through hills heading England way
The whiskies made me laugh, it was a wheeze
As guys read poems, stifled the odd laugh
I’ve not had much to laugh about, so hey
Why not? It’s cheaper than stand-up, and these
Nights can be fun with wordsmiths spouting guff
Thur 29 Jan 2009

873 - Trouble with my tubes

Took the Megabus, Manchester-London
Five quid to go, and five to come back home
Saw Louis, and a match at Dagenham
But missed the first goal, as we had to come
The long way round because, this weekend, some
Repairs were being done on certain lines
Such as the District & Circle: so glum
Through West Ham, East Ham, Barking, as these signs
Kept passing oh so slowly, and the time’s
Past kick-off time, and I’ve let down my son
Waiting at Dagenham East. But the sum
Total of goals was five: they scored four times
At our end, in the end. Dagenham won
Beating Rochdale 3-2 (by aching gum!)
Sat 24 Jan 2009

813 - Scottish angels

I finished reading Shadow of the Wind
On the train home from Glasgow in the dark
The sun shone all day. First, we tried to find
Queen Street station, on George Square. Hearing talk
From my colleague about the angels: ‘Look!’
I saw four buxom goddesses of love
Made of stone, holding up buildings. We walk
Away from love, from those girls up above
In the cold morning air, senses removed
Showing the boobs that no hearts beat behind
Got places to go, people to see, work
(In this case, tax talk.) Northward the train drove
Through green fields, orange hills, blue skies, a kind
Vision of Scotland, beautiful and stark
Tue 25 Nov 2008

812 - Sketches from the east coast mainline

The train took us north through pretty Yorkshire
Hills green and rolling, yellow towns nestling
Historic Durham Cathedral, higher
And therefore nearer to God, its choir sings
Plenty of eye candy, pretty young things
Sharing the ride, some jumping off before
Saying goodbye with eyes, pulling, dragging
Their cases elsewhere, gone forevermore
Alternate rain, hail, sun, cloud and much more
In windy Newcastle, but they don’t tire
Schoolkids leap and shout, homeward journeying
Back up to Edinburgh, then change for
Glasgow Central, eighth floor, Thistle. Try a
Japanese sushi. Now TV watching
Mon 24 Nov 2008

805 - Edinburgh Choo-Choo

It’s been a busy month for travelling
I went to Paris earlier, you know
I’ve just got back from York, recovering
From that while also preparing to go
To Edinburgh: up there tomorrow
And then, the following week, Newcastle
And on from there to sink pints in Glasgow
Then back home at long last, perchance to chill
I love to travel but my wallet’s ill
Paris was leisure but the rest’s working
Nonetheless, pleasure can still smoothly flow
From pumps in pubs on work trips, so let’s fill
The glasses and drink to more journeying
(And promotion prospects, though they’re quite low :(
Mon 17 Nov 2008

794 - We are sorry for any inconvenience this may cause you

Public transport, like public school, can be
A slight misnomer, and for a roamer
Highly dramatic, traumatic maybe
Let the train cause the strain, make you phone the
Person waiting: “Sorry, I’m late home, a
Railwaymen’s strike. Looks like a taxi which
Will tax me.” Strikes me that you’re a goner
If public transport fails the poor man. Rich
And you’ll get there, no scare… but you’ll still twitch
In your first-class plane seat. The meeting’s three
And take-off’s delayed till two. Bemoan your
Fate to be late: this thick fog’s got you stitched
Uptight as night draws in, gate twenty-three
This airport scare’s taught me to stay home more
Thur 6 Nov 2008

726 - In philanderer's fields

On foreign land you took my hand and then
We kissed for hours among the flowers of snow
I flew back home but knew, the facts were plain
I’d miss your land, your hand, but had to go

On foreign sand your dark hair hung down low
Adorned with flower, I scorned your powerful bloom
We sailed, homebound, no fire down below
I missed my chance of romancing your womb

On foreign train your sandy hair and soon
You’re standing there, careful to show the men
Here is your town, step down, forever go

I softly sigh as I send out this tune
Still you adorn a corner of Britain
Within my mind that’s foreign through and through

Sat 30 Aug 2008

697 - Stop that train

So tired. I hardly slept last night. Bottles
Of beer to blame, three before turning in
Which made me wee a lot, jimmy riddles
Heard all those poems in that collection
On CD, s’posed to bring oblivion
And usually does, but last night, no such luck
After Benjamin Zeph, masturbation
I should have tried pills, Schopenhauer’s book
The graveyard radio discussion stuck
For a whole hour on old steam trains, whistles
And rattling sound effects. Old steam engines
Just count ’em, shiny black sheep on a track
Three hours late - 4 am - my arrival’s
Announced at Sleepytown railway station
Fri 1 Aug 2008

616 - One track mind

Travelled by train first class down to London
On the magnificent Pendolino
The train that bends and twists, a faster run
From north to south, but no coffee! Oh no!
Nothing to wet my mouth, not even though
It was so hot and I’d paid extra for
Those several cups that make you need to go
But make you seem important, that’s for sure
Apart from that I can’t think of a flaw
In the journey - well okay, maybe one
As usual the pretty girls were slow
To sit near me. A pity, but I saw
More in Trafalgar Square after I’d gone
To my meeting. Greetings girls, and hello!
Mon 12 May 2008

561 - Train of no thought

I knew that it would happen yet again,
And sure enough it did: I lay awake
Half the night, because of the early train
To Birmingham I’d to be sure to take
To get to the meeting. Of tax we spake,
Specifically of oils excise duty,
Allowing ourselves a short coffee break,
Scanning the Brum skyline (short on beauty),
The minutes taken by quite a cutie.
My concentration proved hard to sustain,
My interest in their comments largely fake,
But I did my best. Then back to New Street,
Then back to Piccadilly. Tried in vain
To write on the train. (The noise young girls make!)
Tue 18 Mar 2008

384 - Trum trum trum trum, tr-travelling on the train

Trum trum trum trum, tr-travelling on the train,
Trum trum trum trum, the tube train in London,
Trum trum … oh dear, trum, it’s stopping again
In a dark tunnel, and the whole world’s on.
I see two happy men, they’re African,
Hear confident tones of Canuck or Yank;
Unable to phone, East European,
The thick walls of the underground to thank.
Hum hum hum hum, h-headphones, faces blank,
Or young partygoers, the girls so vain,
The men viewing a leg exhibition,
Not eager for the train to get to Bank.
Trum, starting again, trum, they did explain
The stoppage, trum, but were heard by no-one.
Sun 23 Sep 2007

379 - From Manchester to Birmingham return

From Manchester to Birmingham return,
This train trip took me back, and not only
In space, along its track, for me to earn
My corn, discussing oil excise duty,
But also back in time, to a city
I knew when young, but how it’s changed! The names
Of streets are the same, but I would not see;
My eyes rejecting the new, as my brain’s
Picturing old shops, old buses, old trains
From 25 years ago. To relearn,
Retrace, retread (the opportunity
My meeting gave), a search for what remains
Of memories of former things. I turn
Some pages on Proust to pass my journey.
Tue 18 Sep 2007

12 - This morning I've been looking once again

This morning I’ve been looking once again
At pictures that I took in fair July
Of Scarborough beach, Ireland’s greenery,
And Devil’s Bridge, mid-Wales, by steam train.
I wonder, is it wrong to run away
From home, and work, and their long dreariness?
Perhaps, instead, if I could just address
My problems, then I wouldn’t have to say,
How long till, and can I afford, this break?
Something must break: the habit of a life
Almost spent, entirely within my mind.
Now I must board my boat and cross a lake
That deadly fish inhabit. I will cry
For help. In Ireland, England, most are kind.
Sat 16 Sep 2006