![]() The changing landscape, and the rush of speed. There is no connection, once the trains had windows you could open, for the wind, Inside it is constant, outside, we speed and slow and jump from scene to scene. ![]() More the scrabble of the voyeur, to be seen, passed and gone. The exuberant spray of names shout for fame, not for them the high graffiti art, Just once, I would like to pierce the veilĪnd listen, in the silence, for the thin, high wailĪt the track-side of a town, the wheeled life of prams and trolleys comes to an end. I would make my own mark with my own pin. I’d like to find a private placeįor one, small space free from stigmata and then Once, just once, I would like to be the cause I’m told that I don’t have a need to know. ![]() Get on, a few more of the sane and sympathetic goĪnd, on the rare occasion that I’m able to ask That I didn’t even know was on the route.Īt every platform, a few more of the seriously weird It’s like my life is running on someone else’s railsĪnd watch the scenery blur by until I stop To track them back to their secret places. Sometimes I feel I’m not quite here at all Īnd I can’t quite seem to get a grip on things – They sing for that soldier loudly and long. Hawthorn, meadowsweet, haycock and willow.Īnd once where the railway’s thunder and steamĭrowned out on departure the small bird’s song, With bindweed, buttercup, small celandine, The foxgloves stand tall in the hedgerow Yet some things stay as they always have been: – and no soldiers listened for birds anymore. The station had closed, the trains passed right through Wild flowers sprang where he planted his feet.Īnd looked for the station, the train and a seat.īut unlike lost soldiers frozen in youth, Their uncles, their grandfathers, themselvesĪ soldier walked through the Adlestrop lanes, Salting the earth again like their fathers, Love, too, the chuff-chuff of the new-found toyĪll here, grafted for, injured for, without complaint, Who love now the fake memory of the coal,ĭust in the eyes and ears and nostrils and lips,īetween the teeth and in the fingernails, The uber-glorified smoke trains we call steam, Rusted like the line, once complained about, Quite remote from houses, its silent echoes Poem Inspired by Adlestrop by Adrian Brett Poems by Edward Thomas, Joyce Lee, Adrian Brett, Marc Woodward, Kathleen Bartholomew, Rob Evans, Kim Rooney, David R Taylor, Jonathan Mayman, Richard Carpenter, Jim Barron, Ingrid A Murray, Helen Wilson, Pauline Hawkesworth, Timothy Adès, Paul Walker, Denise Bennett, Sue Spiers, Susan Black, Alun Robert, Mark Carson, Diana Hirst, Colin Pink, Anthony Dunston Gardiner, D P Robinson, Riff Poynton, Joan McGavin, Shareen Rouvray, Janet Lancaster, Usha Kishore, Nicky Browne, Doreen Hinchliffe, Stephen Kerensky, Robin Ford, Barry Tempest, Wes White, Richard Davies, TP Stavert, Robert Richardson, Emer Gillespie, Cliff Bevan, Carolyn O’Connell, Miles Burrows, Calida Ally, Martin Pallot, Jennifer Hindell, Merlynda LK Robinson, John Alcock, Joan Michelson, Alastair Lewis, Olivia McMahon, Jo Field, Simon Williams, Patric Cunnane, Cathy Dreyer, Dominic Power, Elizabeth Birchall, Ann Allen, Elvire Roberts, Peter Keeble, Tony Vincent-Isaacs, Catherine Faulkner, William Shawcross, Jill Sharp, Marilyn Daish, Ron Cox, Julie Boden, Cora Greenhill, Gill McEvoy, Raymond Garfoot Adlestrop by Edward Thomas
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