Thanks Max. Good to be reminded of this.,Such strong verbs and, as Pat
says, great ending.
Bill
On Thursday, 28 April 2016, Max Richards <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> The Night Ride [layout & punctuation not guaranteed]
>
> Gas flaring on the yellow platform; voices running up and down;
>
> Milk-tins in cold dented silver; half-awake I stare,
>
> Pull up the blind, blink out - all sounds are drugged;
>
> the slow blowing of passengers asleep;
>
> engines yawning; water in heavy drips;
>
> Black, sinister travellers, lumbering up the station,
>
> one moment in the window, hooked over bags;
>
> hurrying, unknown faces - boxes with strange labels -
>
> all groping clumsily to mysterious ends,
>
> out of the gaslight, dragged by private Fates,
>
> their echoes die. The dark train shakes and plunges;
>
> bells cry out, the night-ride starts again.
>
> Soon I shall look out into nothing but blackness,
>
> pale, windy fields, the old roar and knock of the rails
>
> melts in dull fury. Pull down the blind. Sleep. Sleep
>
> Nothing but grey, rushing rivers of bush outside.
>
> Gaslight and milk-cans. Of Rapptown I recall nothing else.
>
> Kenneth Slessor
> On Apr 27, 2016, at 9:59, Douglas Barbour <[log in to unmask]
> <javascript:;>> wrote:
>
> > Well, I like the girl here, but otherwise would take 2 from the first
> set.
> >
> > It is up-to-date, but it also reminds of one of (I think) Australia’s
> most highly thought of poems, Kenneth Slessor’s ‘The Night Ride,’ & that
> sets rather a high bar…(in that its image have stayed with me for years,
> even if I don’t remember the exact lines).
> >
> > Doug
> >> On Apr 26, 2016, at 9:41 PM, Bill Wootton <[log in to unmask]
> <javascript:;>> wrote:
> >>
> >> Thanks, Max, Andrew.
> >>
> >> Unsnappishly, I have had another go. My hesitation with 'no life form'
> was
> >> that trees were obviously about in the area, Andrew. Maybe I have
> addressed
> >> that here. I didn't realise the Anzac connections till afterwards: pine,
> >> uniform. It was more that the rail lounge, counter and toilets were
> closed
> >> but the trains kept running.
> >>
> >> Max, thanks for yours below. 'only life' I might get away with if
> readers
> >> didn't count trees. So, barring ents, my new version might pass muster.
> >> 'ambulatory' might have Anzac associations too I thought, many now
> (all?)
> >> unable to amble if veterans. I do see the structure you have, Max, is
> >> attractive, instructive but I thinks I might stick with the military
> >> precision of the quatrains. I accept your hyphenated suggestion on
> >> rail-straight. Maybe by altering the gender at the end, it might seem
> more
> >> of a chance of being a peace train?
> >>
> >>
> >> On a country railway platform 3
> >>
> >> The only ambulatory life forms here,
> >> scatter-strung-out, ready, we wait.
> >> A pine wind scuffs crisp pin oak leaves,
> >> rustles trousers, riffles skirts. We gaze
> >>
> >> hard into rail-straight distance until
> >> a far-off glint reassures. Anticipatory
> >> milling kicks in. No uniformed presence,
> >> a computerised voice crackles. The 11.55
> >>
> >> from Ballan, stopping all stations to Southern
> >> Cross now arriving. Restrooms and ticket
> >> counter remain closed. Anzac Day.
> >> A tow-haired girl respools her yo-yo, boards.
> >>
> >> bw
> >> 27.4.16
> >>
> >> Bill
> >>
> >>
> >> On Wednesday, 27 April 2016, Max Richards <[log in to unmask]
> <javascript:;>>
> >> wrote:
> >>
> >>> Well, Bill, I favor inclusion, combination and expansion.
> >>> I wouldn’t mind being able to see more on the platform
> >>> than just you and the boy.
> >>>
> >>> Max
> >>>
> >>> On Apr 26, 2016, at 15:49, Bill Wootton <[log in to unmask]
> <javascript:;>
> >>> <javascript:;>> wrote:
> >>>
> >>>> On a country railway platform 4
> >>>
> >>>> Ranged, ready,
> >>> we want out of here -
> >>>
> >>>> we’re the only life in town -
> >>>> we wait to get away.
> >>>
> >>>> a pine wind scuffs
> >>>> crisp, crablike pinoak leaves
> >>>> and rustles trousers.
> >>>>
> >>>> We gaze hard into rail-straight distance
> >>>> till a far-off glint reassures.
> >>>
> >>>> Anticipatory milling kicks in.
> >>>> No uniformed presence but
> >>>> a computerised voice crackles.
> >>>>
> >>>> The 11.55 from Ballan, stopping all
> >>>> stations to Southern Cross is now
> >>>> arriving.
> >>>
> >>>> Neither restrooms nor ticket
> >>>> counter have been open. Anzac Day.
> >>>
> >>>> A tow-haired boy pockets his yo-yo.
> >>>>
> >>>> bw
> >>>> 26.4.16
> >>>>
> >>>> On a country railway platform 3
> >>>>
> >>>> Ranged, ready,
> >>>> we want out of here.
> >>>> A pine wind scuffs
> >>>> crisp pin oak leaves
> >>>> and rustles trousers.
> >>>>
> >>>> We gaze hard into rail straight distance
> >>>> until a far-off glint reassures.
> >>>> Anticipatory milling kicks in.
> >>>> No uniformed presence but
> >>>> a computerised voice crackles.
> >>>>
> >>>> The 11.55 from Ballan, stopping all
> >>>> stations to Southern Cross is now
> >>>> arriving. Neither restrooms nor ticket
> >>>> counter have been open. Anzac Day.
> >>>> A tow-haired boy pockets his yo-yo.
> >>>>
> >>>> bw
> >>>> 27.4.16
> >>>>
> >>>> Bill
> >>>
> >
> > Douglas Barbour
> > [log in to unmask] <javascript:;>
> > https://eclecticruckus.wordpress.com/
> >
> > Recent publications: (With Sheila E Murphy) Continuations &
> Continuations 2 (UofAPress).
> > Recording Dates (Rubicon Press).
> >
> > Transforming once reasonable human beings into gullible idiots is one of
> the biggest businesses we have.
> >
> > Charles Simic.
>
|