Ode to a Train

You held the promise of adventure
In your steam-powered engine,
The lines that traversed the landscape
The coal that pushed plumes to the sky.
You carried dreams 
In your cars that extended for miles,
The sleeper cabins and luncheonettes
The open rows where dreamers sat.
You marked the distance
On your wheels questing for connection,
The destinations like compass arrows
The nations shrinking in your growth.
You stand as pillars of time passed
In museums dedicated to your greatness,
The speed of progress rattling by unstopping
The marks of disuse tattooing your frame.

I have always been fascinated by trains. Where I grew up at my grandmother’s house in New Jersey, we lived down the street from a fairly busy train station. It was nothing to hear trains night and day pass through our town. I also loved to walk the abandoned rails and cross the unused trellises, even with my fear of heights growing as I aged. The minute we came across this train museum in the middle of nowhere in a town full of beautifully painted murals, I knew we had to make a stop. Walking amongst the locomotives, steam engines, and boxcars reminded me of home.

Suspended Childhood


The patina of weathering
Shows the passage of time,
Yet we hope to maintain 
Our innocence
Our delight
Our enthusiasm for life.

Life that consumes our energy,
Hones our ambitions,
Molds our beliefs,
and Hardens our convictions,
Until we dream again.

Dreams of a new-found love
Of people,
Of art, and
Of rest
When our weary souls
Hold onto the vestige of a childhood
Caught in suspended animation…

If only in our minds.

I loved this sculpture when I saw it in Dublin, on the corner across from a grand church with a stone foot bridge over the road that was the inspiration for another poem. It was so whimsical and carefree in its composition, yet showing wear from the years and the weather. It spoke to me of how often we try to hold onto the simplicity of youth as our bodies show the toll life takes.

The Meaning Behind Chasing Sunset

Photo of author and her mother dressed alike in blue Alaska shirts, black caps, and lanyards.

In the summer of 2015, mom and I embarked on a series of roadtrips, turned flights, turned cruises that would take us around the country and into others. The title of this blog, Chasing Sunset, came from our trip to the west coast of the United States where we tried multiple times to catch the sunset over the ocean and missed it in three different states. I said, “It feels like we’re just chasing sunsets,” and tears immediately sprung to my eyes, as I realized that is exactly what we are doing with mom. Mom’s dream (bucket list, if you will), is to see all 50 US states, and I’m doing everything in my power to make that happen. As of this posting, we have only seven states left, including Hawaii.

The ironic part of this whole series of trips, especially the roadtrips, is that we really didn’t have time for much of anything, and yet we saw and did so much. From Niagara to New Orleans, all of New England, the UK and Ireland, the entire west coast, and everywhere in between, we made our way and took lots of pictures. That’s where this page comes from–the sites, yes, but the moments and memories, and emotions that drive my poetry all mixed and mingled during this alone time (well, mostly alone) with my mom. I hadn’t had that in decades, and I didn’t know how much I needed it.

You may find an additional poem/post or two in here for special occasions, but I’m dedicating this blog page to the poems inspired by the photos we’ve taken on these trips. They are emotional and imaginative responses to the photos, not necessarily a log of the trips themselves. That will sooner or later be a memoir.

Poems from England, Scotland, and Ireland
Poems from 16 States in 16 Days
Poems from Our Alaska Adventure
Poems from Our New England Adventure
Poems from our West Coast Adventure

Inside Looking Out

Inside of a dovecot. Photo taken by author.

The sun shines down 
Spreading spirals of shadow
As we nestle close together
Warm and safe.
Safety in numbers,
Yet we wait for the moment of adventure,
The climb and wing spread,
The exhilaration of freedom
Only found in the air.
Here we wait instead
In resting anticipation
For the door to open,
The message wrapped tight,
The author ties a story
To our feet.

I had never heard of a dovecot before we went to Scotland and began our pilgrimage to visit as many ancient castles as possible during our two week stay. While I knew birds were a common form of sending correspondence, my entire knowledge base was from television with birds kept in cages for easy travel or in castle towers already in the sky. I was amazed to find that at most of the castle ruins there were these dovecots kept as individual buildings, and they came in all different shapes and sizes. The photos here were of the largest and most elaborate one I encountered.

Perspective

To me, you’re colossal,
As I approach from below,
Reaching higher than I can dream.
Your stony visage exudes
Safety, strength, and power,
Yet, you’re not unshakeable.
If I rode on your shoulder,
Would I see the world through your eyes,
Or would the height blind my senses?

I took this photo on a wonderful boat tour up and down the Thames River. We were able to sit inside, right at the front of the boat where a huge picture window allowed us to see everything. It was an awesome perspective to look up at the towers on this bridge and be there with my mom. The experience had me thinking about the relationship between children and adults and how perspective shapes everything we see, do, and believe.