How unusual no notes. This poem is therefore open to interpretation. Iron horses, steam trains across the landscape of the Native American. This poem speaks to me of struggle. Clambering , digging, dirt tell me so.
epitaph
chiseled ghosts upon stone
is haunting
forgotten smiles
I saw natives on horseback looking at the steam clouds, listening to the clickety clack of the train on track with dismay.
Powerful images here of how change comes and decimates lives and living
LOVE in capitals
I don’t think there is much love in this poem.
I see death and bloodshed and sadness. I am touched by the imagery I see.
How unusual no notes. This poem is therefore open to interpretation. Iron horses, steam trains across the landscape of the Native American. This poem speaks to me of struggle. Clambering , digging, dirt tell me so.
epitaph
chiseled ghosts upon stone
is haunting
forgotten smiles
I saw natives on horseback looking at the steam clouds, listening to the clickety clack of the train on track with dismay.
Powerful images here of how change comes and decimates lives and living
LOVE in capitals
I don’t think there is much love in this poem.
I see death and bloodshed and sadness. I am touched by the imagery I see.
Imagine how your ancestors must have felt at the first sight of a train. Demons, they must have thought. And for them they ended up being demonic. Carrying their oppressors with haste to destroy their way of life. And most didn't even get a chiseled stone. Just became dust from dirt as they were treated. Your poem took me to some powerful sad history.
I write a lot and I paint a lot. I think just enough that I believe I am a very crazy person at all times. I am very friendly to a fault and find life very very short. I write in bursts with each p.. more..