Freedom to Think

The Penrith Behemoth

Sabre rattling giants stand shy at the zenith

of the taut, fraught, caught behemoth.

Waiting on a platform for the steam train to Penrith

gabbling and chattering like locust in a swarm

 

Whispering in a corner two children joined as pair

one with such dark hair, one with skin fair

 

The circus crowd descend as one

the beast groans laden, the engines gun

wheezing like a smoker Penrith pulls away

building up momentum, screeching wheels the price to pay

 

Smeary windows coloured dandys

little girls with waving handys

bowler hats and smart red dresses

parted hair and curly tresses

 

The distress of the beast soon enough abates

now whizzing past those five bar gates

 

Muddy fields, fruit laden copse

nobody looks till the behemoth stops,

All wait for the pebbles, the sea white a' crest

who cares for the countryside, who dares view the rest

 

Back at seven and same time, that's the pattern

The Penrith Behemoth not set to pass the baton

 

 

 

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Journeys of Jackman ..The wanderings, musings, learning and thoughts from one man who woke up

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Tis passing strange but the day I wrote this was not the easiest of days. I have never been to Penrith, nor did I know where it was (in Cumbria, England's northernmost county I now find out). So I wrote a poem, thinking only of the language and feelings that it evoked. I later did some research, and guess what, a history of steam travel abounds, in Victorian times folks caught the train out to  Solway Firth, I had no idea. Kind of makes me wonder about a higher power.............Tis just my thinking

David Jackman

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