Train horn in the night
it does not ask... it does not see.
but with blackened hands
pulls at silence until it speaks.
it is the confession of silence in
the still of the night.
it is the confession of the married
man starting his car in another drive
way across town.
it is the confession of the builders
faulty pavement that lies cracked
and smells of urine and spilt malt
liquor on lincoln and 5th st.
it is the confession of the red bearded
tattoo artist named saul who loves silk
paintings of jesus last supper.
it is the confession of you and me as
we roll over to the other side of the
mattress, our lesser angels
broken hours before..
nathan martin's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Train horn in the night by nathan martin )
- All are mine, gajanan mishra
- Our Air, Foster Teegarden
- I wear a sweater now, The Princess
- Morning Triku V, Steve Kittell
- To My Love, dr.k.g.balakrishnan kandangath
- Scrutinized As Being Abusive, Lawrence S. Pertillar
- Sting, Foster Teegarden
- Some Ghoul, Foster Teegarden
- the man of christmas, Faith Taylors
- My Description, Foster Teegarden
Poem of the Day
- 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- 1914 V: The Soldier, Rupert Brooke
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)