Thanks Max.
I did look it up, of course, in one of many anthologies I have (as it’s all of them).
Yes: that final line….
Doug
> On Apr 27, 2016, at 11:15 AM, 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]> 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]> 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]>
>>> 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:;>> 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]
>> 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.
Douglas Barbour
[log in to unmask]
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.
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