the loneliness of train whistles
has been known
to keep us up at night.
when there is moon,
we play hopscotch
on old sidewalks
with chalked silhouettes
of desire. when there is not,
we walk white-footed the rails
by the river, counting
darks between shadows
until the sun
comes and grows and
our backs bend too heavy
so we turn them
from the creosote-soaked
tang of the city
to dig holes in dry dirt,
filling them up
with all the weight
of emptiness.
the tenth muse 
Agh, the exquisite pang of longing – no one does it like you Poetessa. You start on a great sensation (Loneliness of train whistles) and end even better on the “the weight of emptiness.” You’ve been away too long, my dear.
It’s good to be back, Mosk! 🙂 Thanks for not giving up on me.
Lovely!
Oh…indeed a brilliant write with all the ‘pangs’ of loneliness so eloquently embedded in the poem.
digging holes to fill them with our emptiness….really nice close…i love the train whistles and clacks…grew up with them at the foot of the hill…creosote…you gave it smell….that is some nasty stuff, just saying….smiles.
thanks, b.! *smiles back*
Well it’s great to have you back.
And everythings aces as always.
🙂 gracias.
Very evocative and rather tender piece – I enjoyed this and will be back for more…. With Best Wishes Scott http://www.scotthastie.com
I grew up on a blackwater river right next to railroad tracks..whenever I hear a trainwhistledamper it is evidence of the past and always a whimper of regret from past hurts never felt again…
That long sad whistle reverberatesates through me.
Like sneaking out after dark on a summer night. Lovely~
ugh beautiful yet sad, lonely write… weaved in a way that there is a sense of peace that slighty hums throughout…
I love every line 🙂 Welcome back 🙂
thanks, girl! 🙂
“counting
darks between shadows
until the sun”
love love love this
This struck me as a collage of wonderful memories from childhood… I suppose it’s because I had similar experiences growing up. But your last line made me feel a little sad. I so wish I still had those experiences every day, that I didn’t need to grow up. Life is filled with so many different things though. Luckily I am a marauder of life, robbing away memories of those special times. And I keep them locked away in a very special place that only poems and dreams remember…. I think you do too. lovely poem.
a marauder of life… i like that.
I am extremely fond of the sound of trains. There is something beautiful but painfully lonely about a train whistle, and you captured that so eloquently here. I felt and heard every nuance. I loved every word.
…the melancholy is palpable…. i’ve seen some vintage trains when i was younger & i know they sing like that… smiles… loved this!
thanks, kelvin! welcome back any time!
kinda creepy that the moment I clicked on your link and read the title a train passed by blowing it’s whistle! Ha! Anyway, nice job, I loved the opening especially. Thank you for sharing this 🙂
i’m sure it was just coincidence 😉
Ha ha yes. A creepy one lol
living near trains, I appreciate ‘loneliness of train whistle’ that hollow bemoaning in the empty darkness, drawing you from the sleep of numbness to the pangs of emptiness. beautiful poem
The second stanza just blew me away, and I was enthralled thereafter. Terrific.
wow. thanks so much, Misky.
loved it!
Loved this one – I felt your heart.
I seem to recall train related theme present quite often in your poems.
you recall correctly. 🙂 it comes of having them always nearby.
Impresive. Every time I read it I get something new out of it. Impressive.
~CGR.Pink
thanks, CGR. 🙂
It’s always a bad idea to live near the station. But very well written. Its a lovely piece.