Poetry by Jeff Green

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Jim’s lover

by cricketjeff on January 4, 2008.  © Jeff Green, All rights reserved

Standing on the platform is a child of eight or nine
And he’s gazing at the monster in the mist.
Nothing in his life has ever given him a sign
That such a beast as this one could exist.

A rush of sound emerges from inside its mighty frame
And explosions of black smoke block out the sun.
He has fallen for the perfect form of engineering fame
And a lifelong lust to touch one has begun.

The monster roars a warning and begins to move away;
A dance of firelight he sees within.
Every fibre of his being screams there will be a day
When the love of such a monster he will win.

On the journey home a silent boy sits dreaming of the sight.
There’s a look of silent rapture on his face
And for all the rest of childhood he is sure that he is right,
That this paragon of power is built from grace.

Transport bosses, sad to say, do not share our hero’s dream
The railways, they say, will have to change
Soulless diesel savages replace the gods of steam
To the poet that’s within me, that seems strange.

The years go by, the small boy grows and nothing goes to plan.
But he’s really very happy with his life.
All the things the small boy loved are hidden in the man
And now he loves his children and his wife.

Returning from a day-trip there’s a road sign on display;
A site of preservation very near.
They all agree a detour would just end a lovely day
So the road that they will take is very clear.

In a moment, there’s a schoolboy, once again he’s under ten.
His own true love is standing there to see
And all around perfection there are other schoolboy men
Who all have found their passion is now free.

Each weekend wife and children chose to go with him or not.
On his journeys to his love from long ago
And just last week he passed out, what he wanted he has got,
The lover of his dreams is his to know.

His hand rests on a lever, and his heart is filled with pride
And the train is filled with those who envy him.
The roar of steam escaping, and explosions from inside
Are now just the song of love from beast to Jim.

Author notes

I wish I was Jim…

I started writing this for this contest, but finished writing it for me. I’ll edit it for grammar etc tomorrow.