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Array
(
[sid] => 3656
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Train
[time] => 2002-09-11 06:35:03
[hometext] => An interesting story about a haunted train that travels by once a year and how it began. This is my second poem.
[bodytext] => As black as Satan’s own abyss, the darkness covered all,
And in the empty silence, the people heard its call. A hollow empty, eerie moan filled with death and pain, A misplaced evil spirit that was the summer train. This is the second time the train has passed this way, And all that heard it’s mournful call quickly knelt to pray. Churning hard the clash and clatter of this demon spawn, Has brought a fear that death will come before the train is gone. A year gone by it came before, to everyone’s dismay, And before the engine passed their town, the innocent did pay. Blackened steel churned it way right past their little town, And as it did a deadly fog began to settle down. Cries were heard for but a second before the silence grew, Terrified parents looked around, but didn’t know what to do. Spirits stolen from their sleep, while in their tiny bed, There wasn’t left a single child that wasn’t truly dead. Thinking back two years ago, upon this very night, A train like this came rumbling into the people’s sight. A trap was set, out on the track, and all of them afraid, As quietly they tried to stop the enemy brigade Fire flashed into the air, explosions and debris, Bodies flying everywhere, at last they would be free. When everything had settled, they looked into the mess, But instead of guns and ammunition, they found a tiny dress. Children from an orphanage had been upon that train, In a time of war and strife they had known nought but pain. Lonely and malnourished they thought they’d soon be free, To laugh and run, sing and play beneath a shaded tree. Dreams and hopes ran through their minds as they left the strife behind, To one day be with families that were happy and quite kind. But in their hopes they died, now their spirits never rest, When on the summer evening the train did top that crest. Now each summer, one night a year, an eerie train returns, Smoldering with dark black smoke and screeching as it burns. Restless spirits upon the train are seeking friends for play, And the children of the town nearby are taken if they stay. So if at night you hear the howl of anguished emptiness, A clang of steel, the smell of smoke, a sickened queasiness, Then leave the town I beg of you and don’t you dare refrain, Or you too my friend may well become, a victim of the train. By:Doug Morton http://wordpoet.tripod.com [comments] => 3 [counter] => 160 [topic] => 31 [informant] => WordPoet [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 15 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry )
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