Poems about conductor


є 1170151

Conductor of My Dreams

One, Two, Three
Four, Five, Six
Fall asleep and dream with me
I'll take away your sorrow
One, Two, Three
Four, Five, Six
Imagine you're in a field full
Of your favorite flowers
One, Two, Three
The flowers are set flames
No, you cannot run, child
Four, Five, Six
Try to focus on my voice
The floor disappears and you're falling
One, Two, Three
Four, Five, Six
But don't worry, I'll catch you
You'll never know pain again
Trust me with your heart
Leave it in my arms
One, Two
We'll sleep forever and here
All your dreams can come true
Stop resisting me!
Four, Five
This is the only way to be happy
Give up your heart to me!

conductor,  dreams.

Author: Nikki Whittaker
Date: 01/03/2020

є 1158534


Were we made to bear another's burden
I would take all your pain
Rattle it out on piano keys
Show you its frailty
Leaves leaping to freedom inside the funnel cloud

I would take your emptiness
Cut it through cello strings
Show you its beauty
The struggle of fire to get outside of itself

I could hold your fear
Beat it like a drum
Show you its purpose
Just because a wave can't be contained doesn't make it any less beautiful

I would cherish your love
Sing it to the stars
Show you that you belong
We all burn to be in the sun, why be surprised that I would burn for you?


Author: jessiah
Date: 20/02/2020

є 1149410

The Crying Conductor at 3am

The ground rumbles
Under the weight of steel,
Churning relentlessly
Onward through the pitch
As the lone whistle
Trails into the night,
Echoing loneliness.

I lie awake contemplating
How the conductor looks crying
So early in the morning,
Twisting down the tracks
Keeping insomniacs awake
With his constant
Rolling thunder.

And I bet with myself
The rushing wind
Cools his tears.

conductor,  crying.

Author: Jonny Angel
Date: 12/02/2020

є 1076028

The conductor

A thick fog of hyperventilated breath, microwaved dinners, and nail polish remover separates into two halves as my mother breaks through my bedroom
The creaking of the door always, without fail, pierces directly through my ears and into the part of my brain that knows how to be kind and pleasant

No mother, i didn't hear about the wreck on 288 today
No, i don't know if i can go grocery shopping tomorrow
No, i don't fucking care to be a part of this family

Every picture of a sad-looking, round-faced, blonde pigtailed child in any photo album collecting dust on a shelf in my house has "victim" written underneath like a description of a particularly memorable event, photographed to document such a milestone
I never caught any fish
I never won a trophy
There was so much empty space

Mother, i could've been a ballerina
I would have enjoyed learning an instrument
Mother, i wish none of this happened either

I suppose you can't ask why someone is upset when their house burns down because they left an open flame too close to the curtain
It doesn't matter why everything you own has turned to ash, it just matters
When every birthday cake for every year seems like a post card from the future saying "wish you were here" it feels good to blow out the candles

Yes mother, i am the curtains of the family
No, i don't want to be


Author: rodeo clown
Date: 07/12/2019

є 1026109

Train Conductor

The train conductor,
He punched a whole
Funny little man
With the tickets

conductor,  train.

Author: Erica Laughton
Date: 23/10/2019

є 1012576

The conductor

A decade of trains that lost track
Have just turned up in my esophagus,
They are all bile as I am all hands.

This is why I was never frightened by ghosts
And sea specters:

They have been inside of me
The whole time.

Sometimes, hot coal would hit my cuticles,
I could see the steam.
I could feel something like wheels
Spinning a web on my nail-beds;
Something sat in me like I were a flowerpot.

All that remained were the sticks
Of my skin, blood bubbling from below.

But they have been there
The whole time.
I have been a ship in a bottle,
I have been a conductor without knowing.

Fever outlined my spine with its fingers
And I felt I was being kicked by
A fetus.

I was a hallway for phantoms
That believed they still have their limbs
And if not, quills
Or a fish with gills and a fin
Or locomotive. Mechanical movement still.

How could I not realize
They were inside of me the whole time,

Soaking up the nutrition from my throat
Shifting the razor while I shave?
Thousands of train-ghosts
Crawled from me by an engine of vomit.

Not one knows where they are.


Author: Sarina
Date: 11/10/2019

є 951822


I and you are an orchestra,
I use my whole body as my baton, you accompany
Together my instrument, I a director,
You my symphony, my harp my
Harmony, my musician. My composition
Alone is arms waving in air, our collaboration
Is entrance
About to come into destiny count and circumstance,
Twirls we do you on your melodies,
My baton.


Author: wordvango
Date: 16/08/2019

є 825509

The Conductor

He wandered along the Pullman car
As if he owned the train,
And wore the badge of вАШConductor' and
A whistle on a chain,
He carried a block of tickets that
Were printed differently,
With various towns and places from
The inland to the sea.

He'd walk from behind the driver, from
The front up to the back,
His steps in time to the rhythm of
The train, its clicketty-clack,
He wouldn't look at the passengers
Unless their eyes were strained,
But then would pause with his ticket block
To see which ones remained.

And then, as if he divined the stress
Each passenger went through,
He'd tear off one of the tickets, as
He would, for me or you,
And suddenly they'd be on a beach
Or resting in some town,
And making love to a red-haired wench
Just as the sun went down.

The train continued its journey with
Its steady clicketty-clack,
The passenger sitting limply with
His eyes, empty and black,
While ever the train's conductor walked
Along the swaying aisle,
Dispensing the tickets on the block
For mile on endless mile.

Then once at their destination he
Would blow a single note,
Using that tiny whistle hanging
Chained down by his throat,
And all of the passengers would wake,
Their eyes no longer black,
Marvelling at the dreams they'd had
While travelling on that track.

If ever you board that certain train
Be sure to be aware,
And look long at the conductor,
As he walks; No, even stare!
Then if he pauses in front of you
Think where you'd like to be,
And watch as he peels your ticket off,
Your ride to ecstasy.

David Lewis Paget


Author: David Lewis Paget
Date: 24/04/2019