For As The Final Train Appeared Poem by ANDREW BLAKEMORE
For As The Final Train Appeared
For as the final train appeared
And stopped beside the platform bare,
The last to journey disembarked
Then carried on their way,
Some stayed behind to watch it leave
With heavy heart and saddened tear,
They saw the guard with flag in hand
And looked on with dismay.
For as he closed each carriage door
Those days were gone for evermore.
The Beeching axe of sixty five
That tore the heart out of this place,
And left a void no soul coul fill
The cruellest cut of all,
For when they closed the station down
Then cleared the sit where it had stood,
A way of life was sadly gone
That few can now recall.
Those olden days of coal and steam
Alas they're now a fading dream.
Twas built in eighteen seventy nine
A building of such grace and charm,
That I remember all too well
When I was but a child,
I saw its windows boarded up
And then the slates fall from its roof,
And watched it when reduced to dust
Our village thus defiled.
Across the line a cold wind blows
For here now lies a thousand woes.
Our yesterdays are disappearing, no matter to us how endearing our little world, the life we led, like our ancestor's are now dead i can see the stations windows gleam, trains running under, the power of steam exited voices, tears of joy, memories, when as a boy! thank you for taking me back Andrew
Andrew, you're expression dances around the page with such elegance, beautifully written........you always paint a stunning portrait for the viewer, Thank you Andrew for sharing your amazing gift. Tips hat.....you are a fine poet sir *10* best wishes Jon
Alison has just said what I was feeling, When you give: You give your all! ! Perfect! ! ! Love duncan X
You have a wonderful ear for poetry, Andrew. Your rhythmic inventiveness always pleases. This one has the romantic nostalgia of something written in the last century - you share your regret with warmth and a fine attention to detail. Excellent write. love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
Another wonderfully inspiring write, Andrew. It's always a bit sad to remember, fondly, things from the past, knowing the newer generations will not appreciate their significance.I suppose the last generation probably felt the same way. An enjoyable read, indeed. Thank you. Richard
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/7/2024 3:58:33 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Those olden days of coal and steam, alas they're now a faded dream. Sad and true! ! An elegant poem of days gone by Andrew! ! *10*! ! Best regards, Friend Thad