Station Poems - Poems about Station

A woman at the gas station is unremarkable besides her name tag reading Clarity and her teeth, saying never mind. She asks if I need a receipt. I say no, like I'm not collecting evidence in the glovebox of a car that only drives in reverse. The smell of ethanol summons June bugs: last summer, I siphoned moons from my mother's...

Continue reading...

Sticks and stones are physical objects They can be used as a blunt weapon But a lack of encouragement can lead to neglect Which can lead to self harm and bad places we step into It’s demeaning and undermining, it’s a spell unseen Serpent like wave function, words can be deceitful and unclean To call somebody fat and ugly isn’t just...

Continue reading...

STATION MEETING The time has come years depart I slap your stomach You throttle me for my gems I have none my gems are the stars sardines swim towards me chains rattle loose to the children in the Wilderness I flee verse2016 ...

Continue reading...

Midnight in my darkest hour The radio turned to nowhere, n nothing The night is open to static, unknown A vice of something from silence moans Its whispers are lost in the either of night Cold moonlight settles on my floor Its liquid form is translucent and unformed I draw the air of midnight, misty cold Feeling dead stations...

Continue reading...

Dead station of soul, cold a cuneiform of heavenly hosts on a cathode ray tube, born shadows of forgotten sliver gods roam digital tears, a broken modem's wail, fear the hollow shell of the sky, cracking nightshade fingernails fawn lost in the echo chamber waiting for a mechanical dawn ...

Continue reading...

Dead station of soul, static old phantom frequencies crackle n fade wraiths, tuning into the echoes of forgotten dreams, decades channels of fractured memories dust motes dancing in moonlight a language lost to time signs and shadows wax on a dying flame into a twilight rain with the pulse of the divintity of silence and static casting secrets to an empty room, void...

Continue reading...

Imagine if there was a brain station for souls Plug in a rhyme magic would pop out no controls With patience sooner or later Writing thousand word essays And the literary world would begin to explode ...

Continue reading...

Life is a slow moving train with many stations along the way. Some stations will be filled with joy some stations we'll encounter pain. Life's journey is a one way ticket as onwards through life we go. Every station whispers secrets at each stop a dream unfolds. Before we reach our destination they'll be many...

Continue reading...

Joint pourings of nations, All from different nations. Funnel of diversity, Cultures melding in. The station holds the might of nations. Flowing round pillars, Through the gates to the station. Different dress from all the rest. ...

Continue reading...

To all of my loves, I'm nothing but a greying power station. They're not interested in me or my well being I'm not sure if they ever were. They come at me with endless barbed babble have little need for dialogue or advice I'm just a chew toy for their mental mice... when their confusion evolves into a vice They have their smart...

Continue reading...

Turning the pages backward I find pressed flowers in my old diary from the day we saw lavender growing in the woods. The sun was swallowed by clouds that were halfway to a metaphor and you told me the eye color of love was dark hazel, the very depth of my own. In a packet of handwritten letters I find polaroids...

Continue reading...

Our oldest light goes by the name cosmic microwave background radiation— CMB for short. She's everywhere: fluorescent birdsong of modern offices, hum of corner store ice cream cases. Have you heard of her? This gal was born screaming into freedom from the expansion of a bang so big we're still talking about it. Expelled from the...

Continue reading...

An hour dissolves Into endless waiting While buses fading Into grey haze Leave me gazing Through downcast eyes At phantom swirls Of mounting fears That chain my feet From homeward paths Where comfort dwells In memories sweet Of shared times' past Till diesel fumes And echoed calls Fade like ghosts Through station walls -...

Continue reading...

Life with you has always felt like waiting at a train station. I’d curl up on the cold benches and wait on you forever, I think. When you finally get off, I’m so excited that I feel tears of joy stinging my cheeks. I race over to hug you and you give me a smile...

Continue reading...

sits well and nearly out of reach unless. A spell is when it's open dirty, but is closed. Oil soaked around the bend the elbow is. The smell around the bushes how they do. A little stunted here and there you know because. Oil-soaked, where gas is sold, soaked coal oil rags. Patches on the asfhalt black translucency. Pumping, pumping, pump the...

Continue reading...