06-30-2017, 02:24 AM
Edit 1 (Thank you Richard, CRNDLSM, DukeAlien, Vagabond, Tectak, Achebe for feedback and commentary)
On a mundane monday evening
I’m making my way home
through littered streets,
tin-cans and chit-chat.
I add to the mess
light up a cigarette,
my lips kiss the bud;
smoke numbing my throat.
Moments pass like pedestrians
and I finally reach my station -
a faint rumble from the distance;
Pa-dum-dum, Pa-dum-dum, Pa-dum-dum
That ordinary sound
of going home.
A carriage covered with
tags of graffiti;
zig-zag sentiments overlapping
occasional spots of rust,
grinds to a halt.
A screech and a whir,
gates squeak open,
out steps a guard -
That unmistakable uniform
and oversized hat,
black and blue respectively.
He asks for my destination,
to which I tiredly reply;
“Again, to Nessingway station”
He nods disapprovingly.
My tone that he didn’t like,
I step inside, guard forgotten.
A vacant seat calling me
through a cluttered crowd;
A faux leather couch with
a piece of fabric torn out,
begging for release.
I rest my head against the glass,
staring right through.
the train starts moving,
making that hallmark hum:
Pad-dum-dum, Pa-dum-dum, Pa-dum-dum
Through stained windows
a vague reflection.
A see-through copy of myself,
seeing off the sunset, side by side -
as if credits roll through,
a clichéd title like:
“Another day", starring myself.
The rails carry me home,
no screen turning black.
I step outside,
saying under my breath:
“Goodbye and until tomorrow.”
The train slowly drifts off,
a farewell of its own:
Pa-dum-dum, Pa-dum-dum, Pa-dum-dum
Original
Through streets littered with
tin cans and chit-chat,
I’m making my way home
on a mellow Tuesday evening.
While I wait for a train
that goes my direction,
I decide to add to the mess
by lighting up a cigarette.
I inhale deeply as
my lips kiss the bud;
stale smoke numbing my throat
a feeling like that of a sore love-story.
Moments pass by like pedestrians
when I spot a faint rumble
coming from a near distance;
Pa-dum-dum, Pa-dum-dum, Pa-dum-dum
It’s that distinct sound
of going home,
presented by a carriage
that is marked with graffiti
and the occasional spot of rust.
It slowly grinds to a halt
with a loud screech and a whir.
Its gates squeak open
and out steps its guard.
He dons that unmistakable
silly hat and uniform,
colored black and blue respectively.
He asks for my destination,
to which I softly reply;
“Home, Sir, to Nessingway station".
I show him my ticket
to which he approvingly nods.
I crack an awkward smile
while I step inside.
My eye catches a vacant seat
through the cluttered crowd;
A rugged leather couch with
a piece of fabric tearing out.
I sit down and rest my head
against the glass, staring through.
As the train slowly starts moving,
making that ubiquitous hum:
Pad-dum-dum, Pa-dum-dum, Pa-dum-dum
Through the stained windows
I spot my vague reflection.
Together we see the sunset
accompanied by an ever-changing décor.
As if the credits from the end
of a movie roll through
with a clichéd title like:
“Another day", starring myself
while the rails take me
to the end of my destination.
Instead of the screen turning black,
I get up and step outside,
spotting my reflection in the glass
one final time, while saying under my breath:
“Goodbye and until tomorrow”
The train slowly drifts off
yonder towards a setting sun,
bidding me farewell with that distinct sound:
Pa-dum-dum, Pa-dum-dum, Pa-dum-dum
On a mundane monday evening
I’m making my way home
through littered streets,
tin-cans and chit-chat.
I add to the mess
light up a cigarette,
my lips kiss the bud;
smoke numbing my throat.
Moments pass like pedestrians
and I finally reach my station -
a faint rumble from the distance;
Pa-dum-dum, Pa-dum-dum, Pa-dum-dum
That ordinary sound
of going home.
A carriage covered with
tags of graffiti;
zig-zag sentiments overlapping
occasional spots of rust,
grinds to a halt.
A screech and a whir,
gates squeak open,
out steps a guard -
That unmistakable uniform
and oversized hat,
black and blue respectively.
He asks for my destination,
to which I tiredly reply;
“Again, to Nessingway station”
He nods disapprovingly.
My tone that he didn’t like,
I step inside, guard forgotten.
A vacant seat calling me
through a cluttered crowd;
A faux leather couch with
a piece of fabric torn out,
begging for release.
I rest my head against the glass,
staring right through.
the train starts moving,
making that hallmark hum:
Pad-dum-dum, Pa-dum-dum, Pa-dum-dum
Through stained windows
a vague reflection.
A see-through copy of myself,
seeing off the sunset, side by side -
as if credits roll through,
a clichéd title like:
“Another day", starring myself.
The rails carry me home,
no screen turning black.
I step outside,
saying under my breath:
“Goodbye and until tomorrow.”
The train slowly drifts off,
a farewell of its own:
Pa-dum-dum, Pa-dum-dum, Pa-dum-dum
Original
Through streets littered with
tin cans and chit-chat,
I’m making my way home
on a mellow Tuesday evening.
While I wait for a train
that goes my direction,
I decide to add to the mess
by lighting up a cigarette.
I inhale deeply as
my lips kiss the bud;
stale smoke numbing my throat
a feeling like that of a sore love-story.
Moments pass by like pedestrians
when I spot a faint rumble
coming from a near distance;
Pa-dum-dum, Pa-dum-dum, Pa-dum-dum
It’s that distinct sound
of going home,
presented by a carriage
that is marked with graffiti
and the occasional spot of rust.
It slowly grinds to a halt
with a loud screech and a whir.
Its gates squeak open
and out steps its guard.
He dons that unmistakable
silly hat and uniform,
colored black and blue respectively.
He asks for my destination,
to which I softly reply;
“Home, Sir, to Nessingway station".
I show him my ticket
to which he approvingly nods.
I crack an awkward smile
while I step inside.
My eye catches a vacant seat
through the cluttered crowd;
A rugged leather couch with
a piece of fabric tearing out.
I sit down and rest my head
against the glass, staring through.
As the train slowly starts moving,
making that ubiquitous hum:
Pad-dum-dum, Pa-dum-dum, Pa-dum-dum
Through the stained windows
I spot my vague reflection.
Together we see the sunset
accompanied by an ever-changing décor.
As if the credits from the end
of a movie roll through
with a clichéd title like:
“Another day", starring myself
while the rails take me
to the end of my destination.
Instead of the screen turning black,
I get up and step outside,
spotting my reflection in the glass
one final time, while saying under my breath:
“Goodbye and until tomorrow”
The train slowly drifts off
yonder towards a setting sun,
bidding me farewell with that distinct sound:
Pa-dum-dum, Pa-dum-dum, Pa-dum-dum