Cold fog wrapped the mourning, waiting,
As the dew rose up in pain.
O'er ocean, land the sailor's body,
Coming home on funeral train.
Sisters three- two aunts and mother,
Huddled on the depot landing.
Look out hard beyond the track bend,
Hearts are weary, tired from standing.
Old black crow comes diving past,
Roosts upon a shattered dream.
Loud steam whistle booms at cattle,
Its drowned out by Dixie's scream.
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This is a haven for thoughts expressed in poetic forms.
Enjoy the road less travelled
your poetry submissions are welcomed and encouraged prof.madmax@gmail.com
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About Me
- Prof.Madmax
- Mount Vernon, Tennessee
- I am an English major graduate with a B.A. from the University of Tennesse. These are my poor atempts to begin to learn how to capture that elusive spark, or the memory of said spark, that is, after all, life.
The Onion
2 comments:
Cold, pain, black, scream. Nice structure. I would be interested to hear your definition of "Dixie." In other words, what is "[...] Dixie's scream" ?
Good stuff, Tim. Believe it or not, we still have "Hay In the Road" stuck to the side of the fridge. I read it occasionally. You should post it here. BCM
"Dixie's Scream" got me too, brought back memories from the good ol' days.
I imagine "Dixie's Scream" is left a mystery on purpose. So this is just a guess, and I would rather it be left a mystery...
Dixie is a sister!
Is sad.
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