Friday 12 July 2019


Dear all,

Welcome to the station, a place of joy and sadness, missed connections, watching time fly. Perhaps we can all relate to the traveller, a foundation of sand, forever saying goodbye.

I hope you enjoy this short "mini set" accompanied with some images I hope enhance the poems. Make a connection, leave a comment, follow the thread.


The Allure of the station
 
 
In pursuit of perfection 
Beguiled by the tattoo
I watch you running.

Conflating Fantasies
With love and a future
My heart misses a beat.
You board your train.

The allure of the station
Fleeting erotica
Missing connections                                                
Watching time fly.
 
 
My Five a Day
 
 
Fell in love five times today.
I am ahead of schedule.
 
 
Only sixteen more times
For an average week.
 
We board a carriage
At the same time.
 
Repeat sadness;
Different destinations.

 
 
Missed my Train
 
Looking at the
Profile of a corpulent man.

He isn’t waiting for
Anything in particular.

His freckly daughter
Pulls pints

For customers
At the buffet bar.
 
I feign disinterest,
Fall at the first hurdle.
 
If you beckon
I will leave it all.
 
Perhaps a third of my age;
I wake up, miss my train.


Watching You Leave
 
Summer timetable migrant
A swallow on wing
 
Rides a shimmering heat haze
Pauses under my eaves.

A rush hour romance
But no time to build nests.
 
I'm a travel correspondent
You a brief interlude.
 
 

Halved
 
We could have watched butterflies
Spent an hour on the wing
Shared different perspectives
But it wasn’t to be.



All This without You

Timetables
And connections.
 
A few moments spent
Along different lines.
 
You’re leaving
Aren’t you?
 
How I wish
You could stay.
 
The cruel
Whistle blows
 
My heart
Wastes away.



Like Fields of Poppies
 
Your lips red like a poppy.
My heart crash lands
On crimson petals.
Never coming home.



Sat Looking At You
 
The thought suddenly strikes me
Time has called time.
I have become too reticent
To make the first move.
An ageing irrelevance.
Now letting you go.



I wasn’t going To 

It was not my intention
To fall in love yet again.
 
I have grown tired
Of heightened emotions
 
But your beauty dictates
And I must react. 

Desire trumps
Will power.
 
The curve of your shoulder
A fork in my road.



Making me late
 
I’ll catch the next train
That way I can look at you
For a little longer
And dream
As only a lover can.
Beauty is a callous thing.



The Swallow Has Gone
 
 
An Empty Chair.
The waiting room
Barren without you.
 
You left some rubbish
On a table
But made your connection.
 
I tidied up after you.
Carefully placed my heart
In a clear cellophane bag.


Mark Harris has asserted his right under
Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
To be identified as the author of this work.