When the whistle blows far ‘way at night
And those tracks rumble with fright
The rusty wheels squeal at the station
Sweat rubbed from their foreheads
Lots of hard work without automation
Weary feet dragged to their creaky beds
And up before the sun does rise
Heavy shovel loads of coal to the engine
Filled with yawns and tired eyes
Every day begins with intention
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Author:
Cheesencrackers (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 14th, 2026 21:53
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 22
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange, Demar Desu
Offline)
Comments3
I remember those days, tired eyes, early to arise, steam engines, laying track with a spike mall, yes I'm that old.
Thank you for putting in the hard work to lay the foundation for our country, and for commenting as always. You’re very much appreciated Soren.
You are most welcome Allie
Allie, this really took me somewhere, my friend. I could almost hear the whistle and feel the weight of the work behind it all. There is a quiet respect woven through these lines that I very much appreciated. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Thank you so much Tristan! I’m really glad you enjoyed it.
Movement with intentions! Is there anything sexier than consciousness? Great poem Allie… I wish the world were more aware and maybe we won’t have any trolly problems to begin with…
Yes haha agreed Demar! I wish it was as well, glad to see you’re back my friend.
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