Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Whistle Stop

A train whistle sounds in the distance,
smoke rises into the sky.
She stands at the platform and listens
to train whistle sounds. In the distance,
the outgoing train’s headlamp glistens
with raindrops. It’s no use to cry
at train whistle sounds. In the distance
smoke rises into the sky.


Collection available! Knocking from Inside

7 comments:

Crafty Green Poet said...

I like the way you vary the repeating lines, your poem is also very good proof that the triolet needn't be frivolous...

Stan Ski said...

You make it look easy; but quite a difficult discipline - as my first attempt reveals.

my backyard said...

very evocative!

Rob Kistner said...

Excellent! I am taken by your line breaks -- well done... ;)

Dale said...

So that's what they invented the damn form for. So this poem could be written.

Absolutely stunningly fabulous. Wonderful poem.

Ofira Sephiroth said...

Excellent poem

Linda Jacobs said...

I like how deep you were able to get with just these few lines!