Iron Horse
The wind it blows threw me on
this Iron Horse I roam, freedom
is the feeling as it soothes this
aching soul
The road is my life-line it gets me
out of here, a pathway to anywhere
and places i've never been.
A map is for a lost man to afraid to roam
into the horizon I slowly fade
Iron Horse roll-on
roll-on
Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.
Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| Past and Present | 0 | 05/28/2009 |
| Past and Present | 0 | 05/28/2009 |
| Past and Present | 0 | 05/28/2009 |
| Past and Present | 0 | 05/28/2009 |
| The Storm | 0 | 05/27/2009 |
| Iron Horse | 0 | 05/27/2009 |
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.