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The "El"
THE “EL”[a memory]
Clickety-clack
trains on the track
flying high to the city
and back
sparks falling from the sky
on the street below
where phantom trolleys go
on rails left behind.
Clickety-clack
sardines in a row
swaying to and fro
white knuckle holds
on worn leather straps
holding on to mamma
for dear life
old men smoking cigars
and pipes
Christmas time
just mamma and I
on the El we fly....
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Comments
Geremia
Fri, 2014-10-24 11:09
I was the last of 4 children,
I was the last of 4 children, My mother lost a child before me. Since my siblings were in school someone in the household had to watch me [as we used to say]. We lived with my father's parents. I was left with my mother and grandmother. If one was busy, the other took over. My mom brought me to visit family or go shopping, My grandmother usually took me to ,many....many wakes with old Italian ladies dressed in black and smelling of fried peppers and eggs.. I was five when I saw my first open coffin, Taking the el downtown to Bloomingdales [which had an entrance just off the station\ was one of my favorite “outings”..
By the way, that “first”wake was that of my maternal grandmother—my mother took me to THAT one.
I sat there looking straight ahead and saw what I didn't want to see from the corner of my eye. A neiighgbor finally suggested that someone take me home.
author commentweirdelf
Sat, 2014-10-25 12:40
an unusual poem for you
works well as verse, though seeming to lack content without your own comment afterwords.
cheers,
Jess
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Geremia
Mon, 2014-10-27 09:08
Well we know it's about
Well we know it's about trains on elevated stations. It is difficult to grasp the full impact of this if you've never ridden on the New York subway :), It stands as it is, But you did make me think about changes,
joe
author commentwesley snow
Mon, 2014-10-27 20:38
This is nothing like what I expect from you.
It's delightful. I love it.
W. H. Snow
A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Geremia
Tue, 2014-10-28 09:57
This is nothing like what I
This is nothing like what I expect from you.
I guess this is a compliment lol
joe
author commentEsker
Tue, 2014-10-28 10:55
Old school Rules!
The El....I have only the very graphic and computer game..Rockstar Gran Theft Auto
but....I would enjoy and do enjoy the same things....The gamers create sensations
of light and nuance of characters employed that I love...So I visit this elevated version
of the real elevated train......I would very frightened as hell ....it would be like a packed
roller coaster....and the fear of getting lost from a parent under such conditions would
be intimidating........And....beneath it all ..the thrill the wonder of finding out something
that I saw my parents did not enjoy that much.....The multitude and excitement of
something ordinary.....We had to go to my grandmothers funeral...My dad s mom..
many people...My mother made my brother kiss grandmother goodbye....All out family
do not talk.....THe people....strangers........Bloomingdale...shopping here I still love
the displays the windows...its a setting...a world from the ordinary.....My parents
handled the city well and all us kids....the four of us...travelled....became thus..
the fear of parents not handling the agressive nature of the bigger world was always
and will be with me......I love the poems description because the game sways..
the cars click....the windows open....the light falls in...below is the dark shadows
like a thick forest lane....
for me the content is bang on.....The poem is not something I have seen from your
hand before like this but works perfectly!!
an Excellent Poem Geremia!!
Peppers and eggs! aha..with some olive oil
carbonic soap and lavender and rose hip...
Thank You!
Geremia
Tue, 2014-10-28 13:02
It is an important memory in
It is an important memory in my life. I livred2 blocks from the El and was often lulled to sleep by the trains pulling into the station.
thanks,
joe
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