Cross Country Train Trip (Image challenge), a random Pandora challenge no end date Options

[Cleo_Serapis]

While Pandora's been busy with Clerihews, Cybele talked me into adding another IMAGE for your musing of which she photographed on holiday. Why not have a go at this one?

Your task:
Write about the image below and include in your response:

Where you are going and why.
Make it more challenging and pick a bygone era.

Photograph © Grace Galton

Good luck! There is no announced end date for this challenge.

~Cleo and Cybele    

[Cleo_Serapis]

I forgot to mention that responses to this challenge should be posted right here in this tile as 'add reply'...

:D

[Guest_Nina_*]

Hi Lori

Here is the picture that came into my mind when looking at Grace's interesting photo.

Evacuation

Compartments fill
with chattering children,
clutching gas-masks, suitcases,
brown-paper wrapped sandwiches.

Tearful parents
stand forlornly,
watching precious cargo
depart for safer homes,
far from bomb-blitzed London.

As train steams onwards,
eager eyes scan
horizon for
sights, sounds, smells
never seen before -
cows, sheep, farms,
lush green fields.

Destination reached,
tired youngsters
huddle together,
anxiously awaiting collection
by unknown hosts.

Nina

[Cleo_Serapis]

Wow Nina.  

This is excellent response to the picture!

I never would have thought of warring, but I'll assume you are referring to WWII  in the 40's ?

Every word of your poem speaks volumes (pardon the cliche).

I am in awe this evening.

Well done!
~Cleo  :pharoah2

[Guest_Nina_*]

Hi Lori

This is excellent response to the picture!

I never would have thought of warring, but I'll assume you are referring to WWII  in the 40's ?

Every word of your poem speaks volumes (pardon the cliche).

I am in awe this evening.

Gosh, thanks.    

I am indeed referring to WWII.  Millions of children were evacuated from London and other big cities to the countryside without their parents as it was thought they'd be safer away from the bombings.  The children were taken to railway stations and put on trains. Once at their destination children were chosen to go and live with local residents.  Some evacuees found it a positive experience but for some it was a very traumatic nightmare as they were badly treated.  More info if you are interested HERE

The train in Grace's photo is an old fashioned steam train, which only exist now on special lines.  Looking at the picture, just made me think of it packed with children, many of whom had never seen the countryside.

I couldn't imagine having to send my children away from home and not see them for months on end, having them brought up with strangers, yet having to do it thinking it the best for their survival.

Grace - wonderful photo as usual.  Where was it taken?
Nina

[Guest_Jox_*]

Hi Nina,

Your second fab poem which I've read today - you certainly have full steam up (groan!)

The mass evacuation of children from London in WWII was a sensible precaution but the mass destruction which was feared was less severe to London, thankfully (though that wouldn't help if one was a casualty, of course). HMG also evacuated as part of its programme to make people be aware of the war (the first year was known as "The Phoney War" as little happened in the UK - it was followed by The Blitz and The Battle of Britain, though (Talk about lull before the storm).

I had in mind a simple time-travel idea for my Pandora - where the train is just the vehicle - literal and metaphorical - to transport one back in time. But your poem actually uses the train and the centre-piece of the work and has me wondering about trains. (I have not travelled on that many steam trains).
Just using the train as a transport to the past seems inadequate now so I'm thinking around.

I know this isn't a crit forum but, even if it were, there isn't much - if anything - to suggest here. Lori is absolutely right - each word is beautifully employed... as with your Tempest poem. If I were you I'd write as many poems as I could spare the time for now - you've hit an especially golden patch by the look of it.

OK I'm waffling. I have nowt to say really, apart from this really is brill. I don't feel we're in competition but I do feel you've set the standard very high indeed.

Well done and thanks for the read.

J.

[Cleo_Serapis]

Hi Lori

Gosh, thanks.    

I am indeed referring to WWII.  Millions of children were evacuated from London and other big cities to the countryside without their parents as it was thought they'd be safer away from the bombings.  The children were taken to railway stations and put on trains. Once at their destination children were chosen to go and live with local residents.  Some evacuees found it a positive experience but for some it was a very traumatic nightmare as they were badly treated.  More info if you are interested HERE

The train in Grace's photo is an old fashioned steam train, which only exist now on special lines.  Looking at the picture, just made me think of it packed with children, many of whom had never seen the countryside.

I couldn't imagine having to send my children away from home and not see them for months on end, having them brought up with strangers, yet having to do it thinking it the best for their survival.

Grace - wonderful photo as usual.  Where was it taken?
Nina

Yes, this is a very inspiring poem of yours Nina!  :pharoah2

Thanks for the link too - I shall check it out!  :dance:



~Cleo

[Guest_Nina_*]

Hi J

Your second fab poem which I've read today - you certainly have full steam up (groan!)
thank you  :grinning: (no need for you to groan though)

I had in mind a simple time-travel idea for my Pandora - where the train is just the vehicle - literal and metaphorical - to transport one back in time. But your poem actually uses the train and the centre-piece of the work and has me wondering about trains. (I have not travelled on that many steam trains).
Just using the train as a transport to the past seems inadequate now so I'm thinking around.

Time travel.  yes, go for it!  Why not, it sounds like a brilliant idea.  I want to come along for the ride.  I don't suppose you ever watched Goodnight Sweetheart on tv, with Nicholas Lindhurst.  He accidently found a time portal that took him back to an East End pub in WWII.  He fell in love with the barmaid there and ended up living two lives, his present one and his past one (my turn to waffle)  

Actually I have never been on a steam train in my life.

I know this isn't a crit forum but, even if it were, there isn't much - if anything - to suggest here. Lori is absolutely right - each word is beautifully employed... as with your Tempest poem. If I were you I'd write as many poems as I could spare the time for now - you've hit an especially golden patch by the look of it.

Thank you much appreciated. I will have to see if inspiration strikes, last week my muse was on holiday and I wrote nothing.

I have nowt to say really, apart from this really is brill. I don't feel we're in competition but I do feel you've set the standard very high indeed.

Well done and thanks for the read.
Again thanks and I look forward to reading yours  :grinning:

Nina

[Guest_Jox_*]

Hi Nina,

Thanks for your kind comments.

I don't know that tv programme, no, sorry. Is Lyndhurst that chap from "Butterflies" some years ago - played a son? I best know Lyndhurst as being the capital of the New Forest! (S England) Sounds an interesting concept, though.

I have travelled on steam trains in Cheshire (NW England) when they were in regular service and, since then, on the Rheidol railway (Dyfed, Cymru) and the "Watercress Line" - near me in Hampshire and a few other tourist lines.

They are noisey and smelly things - but I quite like watching the countryside go by - without the push and shove and angst of commuting somewhere -  which one can enjoy on these tourist lines.

J.

[Guest_Nina_*]

Hi J

I don't know that tv programme, no, sorry. Is Lyndhurst that chap from "Butterflies" some years ago - played a son? I best know Lyndhurst as being the capital of the New Forest! (S England) Sounds an interesting concept, though.

yes, he's the one.  I used to love watching Butterflies, brill comedy. Sometimes I can so empathise with Ria (Wendy Craig), though my cooking is not quite the disaster area hers was.

I've been through Lyndhurst on the train on the way to Bournemouth many a time.

Nina

[Cybele]

Hi Nina,

What a great response and I remember so well being on such a train at the age of 5 with my big brother and sister singing "We don't know where we're going till we're there."  When I got there, (Leicester) I hated it, not the place, just being parted from my mum!

I am amazed you didn't immediately get wafted to Platform 9 3/4!

How about it?

[Guest_Nina_*]

Hi Grace

What a great response and I remember so well being on such a train at the age of 5 with my big brother and sister singing "We don't know where we're going till we're there."  When I got there, (Leicester) I hated it, not the place, just being parted from my mum!

How awful for you, that is so young to be sent away from your Mum.  How long were you in Leicester?

I am amazed you didn't immediately get wafted to Platform 9 3/4!

How about it?

ROFL, you know, it didn't even cross my mind, but yes that is a possibility.  Mind you Lori's suggestion of picking a bygone era, took me in a totally different direction.

I will think about it, though I think Hayley would write a better piece on that topic.

Nina

[Guest_Jox_*]

© Mike Gable, 2005. I, Mike Gable, do assert my right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with Sections 77 and 78 of The Copyrights, Designs And Patents Act, 1988. (Laws of Cymru & England, as recognised by international treaties). This work was simultaneously copyrighted in the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and the United States of America. This work is posted as an unpublished work in order to elicit critical assistance and other helpful comment, only.

Ref: MG 0455 AB

The (Failed) Gold Heist of 1950 - Part II
by MG

Our yearly visit
to Dad - who stole gold in transit,
failed his escape to Hermitage.

Journey to Leicester,
have I packed our souwesters?
Mum’s worry whilst squatting a midge.

Businessmen up front,
families behind, bearing their brunt,
so hot we’d love drinks from a fridge.

Rocks in the valley,
travel Scrabble with Aunt Sally,
watching for Indians on the ridge.

Passengers prattle,
our wooden carriages rattle,
as we track along this stone bridge.

(end)

[Guest_Nina_*]

Hi J

You paint a vivid picture of a child's uncomfortable journey to visit his father who I assume is in prison after a failed robbery.  
I love the line:
watching for Indians on the ridge.
a great picture of the boy imagining he is in the Wild West

I enjoyed this

Nina

[Guest_Jox_*]

Hi Nina,

Yes, he's in Leicester nick. These are the days before cars were easily available to take people to visit often.

Thanks very much.

J.

[Guest_Jox_*]

Anyone else care to have a go?

[Cleo_Serapis]

Ref: MG 0455 AB

The (Failed) Gold Heist of 1950 - Part II
by MG

Our yearly visit
to Dad - who stole gold in transit,
failed his escape to Hermitage.

Journey to Leicester,
have I packed our souwesters?
Mum’s worry whilst squatting a midge.

Businessmen up front,
families behind, bearing their brunt,
so hot we’d love drinks from a fridge.

Rocks in the valley,
travel Scrabble with Aunt Sally,
watching for Indians on the ridge.

Passengers prattle,
our wooden carriages rattle,
as we track along this stone bridge.

(end)

Well done James!  :claps:

I'll be along but not for a few days at least (hard to create on weekdays) LOL!

Cleo  :pharoah2

[Guest_Cathy_*]

Seeking Better Life

Worn shoes hurry along,
nearly lift me off my feet;
barely off the boat,
ushered onto rusty train.

Mom grips my hand tight,
it hurts, I know she's scared;
eyes dart from window to window
memorizing everything she sees.

The ride is slow and clumsy
jerking us back and forth,
to and fro,
wheels grind forward on the tracks.

What lies ahead?
Mom says better life;
sold everything when daddy died
just to make this trip.

She strains toward the window,
wan cheeks now blushed,
tears create rivulets;
too choked up to speak.

Out there in the harbor
stands a woman, faded grey;
torch in hand, raised up high
to promise freedom to all men.

Cathy Bollhoefer~
copyright Aug2005

[Guest_Toumai_*]

Gosh, I missed all this cos of being away. I shall have to have a go, but not time just now.

Wow, what fantastic responses. Well done to the three of you (three cheers? lol).

Fran

[Guest_Nina_*]

Hi Cathy

Great response to the challenge.  So many people took the biggest risk of their lives, leaving behind everything they have known, fleeing poverty and oppression for the dream of a better life in America, many not even speaking a word of English.  I can only imagine how they felt on seeing the statue of liberty for the first time, arriving on Ellis Island and then disgorging into the streets of New York.  There must have been a mixture of fear, bewilderment and excitement.

I very much enjoyed the read.

Nina

Fran - thanks for your three cheers  :pharoah2

[Guest_Jox_*]

Hi Cathy,

I think Nina has said what I would wish to, so I'll simply leave a personal "Very well done" here for your poem - muchly enjoyed thank you... very well-written.

J.

[Guest_Cathy_*]

Hi Fran,

Wow, what fantastic responses. Well done to the three of you (three cheers? lol).

Thank you Fran!

[Guest_Cathy_*]

Hi Nina,

Great response to the challenge.  So many people took the biggest risk of their lives, leaving behind everything they have known, fleeing poverty and oppression for the dream of a better life in America, many not even speaking a word of English.  I can only imagine how they felt on seeing the statue of liberty for the first time, arriving on Ellis Island and then disgorging into the streets of New York.  There must have been a mixture of fear, bewilderment and excitement.

I couldn't imagine what they must have felt ... I'm sure I didn't even come
close to describing the emotions they felt at first sight of the statue.

I very much enjoyed the read.

Thank you!

Cathy

[Guest_Cathy_*]

Hi James,

think Nina has said what I would wish to, so I'll simply leave a personal "Very well done" here for your poem - muchly enjoyed thank you... very well-written.

Thank you!

I've never seen the statue but I imagine that I would be very excited
and emotional at my first glimpse.  It has become a symbol of so much
to so many I can only imagine what it must have meant to someone
coming to the states from another country looking for a better life.

[Guest_Jox_*]

Hi Cathy,

Although I have no emotional feelings for thee Statue of Liberty (save my Father looked out from the top in 1966) I can appreciate it is an important icon the United States as both a nation and a cosmopolitan home for global refugees - economic and political. It is, also, a globally-important symbol of the United States - despite being made in France and sitting atop a base made in the USA (something which I have always found ironic).

Many things are symbolic but the Statue Of Liberty is not just a representative monument, it also (literally) embodies fraternity, justice and equality - which, no doubt, explains the French Connection (so to speak!)

Vive la revolution!

Regards, J.

[Ephiny]

The responses to this beautiful picture are amazing!

Cathy, I loved your piece here, especially this last part

Out there in the harbor
stands a woman, faded grey;
torch in hand, raised up high
to promise freedom to all men.

I could just imagine the generations of tired, frightened people, gazing up at it for the first time..excellent :)

Here is one that this picture made me think of..from a few lines I scribbled on a train about two years ago.  It's a bit strange but long train journeys seem to have that effect, I think!!

Thoughts on a train

A pressurised, furious cold
in late January.
Spring circles and streaks past
in strange occasional orange light over
bulbs clinging grimly to hard ground.
Frost pulls a firm grasp.
Grey skies.
Grey faces.

Mothers fling frantic stimulation
at bored children, voices shrill
against fogged glass,
far off lights, wisps of smoke,
and stale scents of coffee.

A nun reads from The Tablet Catholic Weekly-
Life and Death Choices over Iraq.
She hasn't turned the page for over an hour
and I have read the
upside down
paragraph over and over and over and
can't make up my mind either.
At times her eyes glaze over into
a sleepy, mild obscurity.
I cannot read her.
It is one of those days.
Nothing is real and she dozes gently into my thoughts.
Our eyes meet.
I look away first.

She gives up and turns the page at Athlone station,
Approaches to Unity.
This interests her more and she adjusts her glasses.
I remain with Iraq; she has disappointed me.
It floats around my mind with
music on my cd player, an aching tune,

Miserere Nobis, dona nobis pacem

Plea for peace.

It makes the afternoon golden suddenly,
crystallises tears and ends
on a mixture of sixty six versions of the chord C.
Its echo lasts.

Nothing makes sense.

The future drifts ahead but I want to stay
here in the dry air,
hidden, too and hooded,
a fixed gaze outwards.
I want this same blinkered belief.
Colour hurts.
Skin itches and jumps, somewhere
a heart thuds and pulls out air.
Too fast.

Feet tap, she stirs now. Wary glance.
I want to sit here and refuse to move.
until someone comes to pull me
out of my head,
piece by piece.
I get up and walk, like her I have a purpose
I am trying to find.
The mist thickens.
Steam drifts with no breeze to guide it.

She straightens, stretches tired legs into my vacated space.
I wonder what conclusions she drew.
She certainly mixed up mine.

[Cleo_Serapis]

Seeking Better Life

Worn shoes hurry along,
nearly lift me off my feet;
barely off the boat,
ushered onto rusty train.

Mom grips my hand tight,
it hurts, I know she's scared;
eyes dart from window to window
memorizing everything she sees.

The ride is slow and clumsy
jerking us back and forth,
to and fro,
wheels grind forward on the tracks.

What lies ahead?
Mom says better life;
sold everything when daddy died
just to make this trip.

She strains toward the window,
wan cheeks now blushed,
tears create rivulets;
too choked up to speak.

Out there in the harbor
stands a woman, faded grey;
torch in hand, raised up high
to promise freedom to all men.

Cathy Bollhoefer~
copyright Aug2005

What a great response Cathy to the photograph!  :guitar:

Well done!
Clincher ending too!  :pharoah2

~Cleo

[Cleo_Serapis]

Lucie, your poem is really very poignant.

I am in awe by this thought here:

Plea for peace.

It makes the afternoon golden suddenly,
crystallises tears and ends
on a mixture of sixty six versions of the chord C.
Its echo lasts.

This is a keeper for sure!

Thanks for sharing and posting your train(ed) thoughts!
~Cleo :pharoah2

[Guest_Nina_*]

Hi Lucie

A very powerful response to the photograph.

My favourite part has to be:

I want to sit here and refuse to move.
until someone comes to pull me
out of my head,
piece by piece.

Thanks for the read

Nina

[Guest_ohsteve_*]

Take the morning train from Shippea Hill,
and change a Cambridge town to London.
Every nine days for six months I was riding through,
a placid English countryside.

A visitor looking at the backs of houses all scrunched
together wondering what the insides looked like.
Were the people the same way? All scrunched up?
After London bored me and tube rides paled,
On the last train home in the winter I wrote…

Fields of emptiness flash by an open window,
the snow hides them all from view.
Dawn slowly creeps it red fingers into the night,
With gray and dingy skies following.
Bleak bare branches scrape the snow down.

I soon found an auto second-hand,
an Austin A-40, what a find.
It took me on rides to local pubs,
where the drink was well done.
The patrons soon were too.

I left to return to America
with a love of England
and the love of an English wife.

[Guest_Nina_*]

Hi Steve

Well done with this response to the photo. Glad you found love to take back with you from UK.

Nina

[Guest_Jox_*]

Hi Steve -

A well-written response to the challenge - good luck!

An interesting train journey - and I do remember Austin A40s - indeed, a few are still on the roads, owned by enthuiasts - probably cost a small fortune now.

I didn't realise you had married over here whilst you were with the USAF. I would say congratulations - but I imagine I'd be a little late!

There are still many USAF bases here and thousands of personnel. Quite a long tradition now. In fact Britain is sometimes dubbed "The Unsinkable Aircraft Carrier."

Thanks for the train journey.

J.

[Cleo_Serapis]

Well done Steve - I enjoyed your trip muchly!


I mergeed your thread into this one too in case you are wondering where it went....

Cheers
Lori
:D

[Guest_ohsteve_*]

Ah but Jox I was a civilian when I got married... I met her while in the service but i couldnt get married to a foriegn National without my commmanders permission and he said no so i got out  got my pass port went back got married then one year later went back in ... but according to the commander it was only puppy love  32 years three kids and a grandson but its only puppy love... shameful of me  eh?  LOL.

[Guest_Nina_*]

Hi Steve

What a lovely story

Nina