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Array ( [sid] => 11526 [catid] => 1 [aid] => Mick [title] => Condensation On The Window [time] => 2003-01-28 22:40:00 [hometext] => A nostalgic poem about travelling as two and then one. [bodytext] => Condensation on the window,
As I sit on the Silverlink,
Camden to Richmond,
Like we used to do so regularly.
Left hand entwined in right,
Fingers engaged in a deadly dance,
Like Japanese fighting fish.
Feet propped comfortably on the opposite seat,
Our soles touching.

Condensation on the window,
In which I’d wipe away a portal,
And we’d stare through,
As the bleary, smoggy atmosphere lifted for a moment,
Revealing trees,
Bare and leafless,
But trees all the same,
Hinting at a luscious canopy of green,
A colour left behind along with summer,
Way back in Camden.

Condensation on the window,
As I sit alone on the Silverlink,
Hands by my sides,
Still as silence,
Feet firmly rooted to the floor,
As the creaking train lurches,
And pulls wearily into Richmond.
[comments] => 5 [counter] => 402 [topic] => 21 [informant] => EndEformEtrancE [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 8 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )

Condensation On The Window

Contributed by EndEformEtrancE on Tuesday, 28th January 2003 @ 10:40:00 PM in AEST
Topic: Lifepoems

Condensation on the window,
As I sit on the Silverlink,
Camden to Richmond,
Like we used to do so regularly.
Left hand entwined in right,
Fingers engaged in a deadly dance,
Like Japanese fighting fish.
Feet propped comfortably on the opposite seat,
Our soles touching.

Condensation on the window,
In which I’d wipe away a portal,
And we’d stare through,
As the bleary, smoggy atmosphere lifted for a moment,
Revealing trees,
Bare and leafless,
But trees all the same,
Hinting at a luscious canopy of green,
A colour left behind along with summer,
Way back in Camden.

Condensation on the window,
As I sit alone on the Silverlink,
Hands by my sides,
Still as silence,
Feet firmly rooted to the floor,
As the creaking train lurches,
And pulls wearily into Richmond.

Copyright Â© EndEformEtrancE ... [ 2003-01-28 22:40:00]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: Condensation On The Window (User Rating: 1 )
by tease_whizz on Wednesday, 29th January 2003 @ 02:55:28 PM AEST
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this is real spillage of the soul...i can totally relate. such depth of emotion put so simply. great write, keep em coming xxx

Re: Condensation On The Window (User Rating: 1 )
by hathaway on Thursday, 30th January 2003 @ 05:37:41 AM AEST
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an excellent piece. there's tremendous vitality in your writing, but you also exercise good control. i like the balance of this and the authority of your poetic voice. a few things i wondered about. the Japanese fighting fish image is a good one, but what is 'deadly' about this holding of hands? and then, if you're sitting next to each other holding hands, surely it's the sides of your shoes that touch, not the soles?

Re: Condensation On The Window (User Rating: 0 )
by Former_Member on Thursday, 30th January 2003 @ 07:59:47 AM AEST
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Poetic license! lol
seriously though, the hands are in a deadly embrace because, well have you ever seen japanese fighting fish? i think that they fight quite slowly and beautifully, so that it may appear as though they are embracing eachother.
In the same way, with this girl, we would sit holding hands, but slowly we were killing eachother.
We did used to sit with our soles touching, it was a bit awkward and uncomfortable actually, but we used to do it because of the sentiment of "soles/souls" touching.
Hope this answers your questions!
PEACE

Re: Condensation On The Window (User Rating: 1 )
by Wrybod on Friday, 31st January 2003 @ 01:02:47 PM AEST
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End E
Liked this immensely. Know the feeling. been there, different line, different time but same railway .
You must read my "Heaven is where you find it " Please do! You will appreciate it better than anyone.
Going back to read some more of yours.

Re: Condensation On The Window (User Rating: 1 )
by TFLM on Friday, 30th May 2003 @ 12:35:17 AM AEST
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What is the end and what is the journey?

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