A brussel's trainstation.

[Pellinore]

Empty rails,
narrow eyes gazing at the clock,
ticking.
Waste fills the cold stones,
Hungry mouths of consumption.
Dead brick buildings,
where once stood mother nature.
Ripped away by the wolves,
Now howling at the ticking clock.
Blood drips on the rusty metal rails.
Tears sip into the hollow earth.
Reunited with our losses.


//I don't know, just felt really sad when standing at the trainstation and looking around, no trees, just brick, concrete and steel.

[Vetty214]

I really like this poem, the feeling it gives you - the coldness of it. I would drop the first line completely since your title says it for you, start with "Empty rails" - it's more powerful. The only line that didn't work for me was "The clock goes by." I wasn't sure if that was a take on "time flies"... or some other reference, just threw me off from the rest of it. This one is solid... do you consider it a draft, will you keep working on it?

[Pellinore]

Yes, you're right, i should leave out the first line, I wrote this poem sitting at the trainstation, and added the clock goes by line afterwards because i felt something was missing there.. but thinking of it, it doesn't makes much sense. Hehe. I'll remove those 2 lines ;).

[Bhaskar]

Interesting take.. I can understand the feeling of disconnect, although I feel a great sense of adventure in train stations and even airports - so many lives intersecting, so many journeys of discovery or homecoming...