The Night Train

The Night Train short poem

Photo by andrewfhart

It is 11.30 at night-
A night train is appearing into our sight-
Porters are walking up and down the station,
They are keeping watch on train’s arrival with great caution-
They are frantic to the passengers-
who will get down or may be in hurry to get berth of sleepers,
They will call for porters,
With the names written up on the door-
the porters will carry passengers’ baggage on coach-floor,
Berths are cosy with neat counterpane-
From the guard up to the bag-men-
all remain busy with the train.

With the splash of green signal-
the guard confirms, all is normal.
With the supervision of station-master-
the train prepares for its departure.
It is night time, the windows will remain shut,
No scenery of fields and remote hut
will appear or without any access of dust-
passengers will go for a sleep.
Only railway caterers will ask for night meal,
It is passenger’s choice to go with it or remain still.
It is their bed time with newly folded sheet-
The night mail is running on line with a speed of rift.
It is running to capture the morning as fast as it can-
It is waiting for passengers’ tea time in the early dawn.

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Profile photo of bosesoma2010


Signup / Login to follow the poet.
I am an amateur writer, some poems are published with Forward poetry Social.
Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

1 Comment on "The Night Train"

Notify of
Sort by:   newest | oldest

Night Water

Night Water short poem

At the beach, it’s night time about 8.00 p.m. Best time to come few people around. Air is crisp, clean; cool, and the white horses are having such fun. Can sit for hours or gently wade while she softly whispers

Next Night

Next Night short poem

I hate the self-immolation of orange sex. Weather was leaving blue strings on the skin. Redemption was incomplete by sharing the legs Lips will not knead the ears. Like wakng in darkness for a passage to grief. Black moon will

A Somber Night

A Somber Night short poem

A volcanic kiss was becoming ungreen. The shark was coming. All night it was raining. The sap was rising and love-farm was deluged. A blue moon walks on the dry eyes. Why the tears had gone to exile? A mole

Stormy Night

Stormy Night short poem

The dark clouds are rolling in quickly, wild wind blows fast and fiercely Many leaves and twigs start twirling around and circling Feeling like Edgar Allen Poe, In the distance I can hear some echo’s Of many dog’s barking in

Splitting The Night

Splitting The Night short poem

Pillage started, when there were anti-answers. The trapped light- wanted to be released, from brutalism. When you were nearly drowned, in the multitude of questions, joining the palms, you collect the moments of solitude. You drop a key in the