Friday, 10 May 2024

THE HEAT OF OUR PRESSED BODIES

Travelling is always a great writing stimulus. I find myself much more inspired in new surroundings. I suppose its the novelty, the newness of everything. Here's a poem about being on a train.

the torch singer on the train

belts out another power ballad

with the energy of one

who has nothing else to lose

the carriage smells of weed

combined with the heat of our pressed bodies

he aims to hit that final note

but misses by a mile

smiling he passes around the hat

changes trains at the next station

to be replaced by an old man with a guitar

who plays sixty second versions of songs

that have half his audience singing along

and so we continue on to Barcelona

Yes it really did happen like that. Catalan trains tend to have musicians on them. I heard a good sax player on a train on the same trip. I hope I have struck the right note with this poem. I do not want to mock the singer, he was just trying to get by as are we all. 

Here The Growling Tiger from the 1930s with a song about trying to get by. Some things never change.

Until next time.  

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