Friday, September 7, 2012

Steam Dream

                               Brenda Bryant



Grown men dream
Of the age of steam;
They tend to get romantic
About the hiss 
Of a beast like this,
Overpowering and gigantic.

But I recall
When I was small
And travelling by train
That cinders flew
And foul smoke blew
And soot fell down like rain.

With windows closed
We weren't disposed
To enjoy the passing view!
You may have and hold
And revere the old.
As for me, I'll take the new.


I'm glad I live in modern times;
I can't take too much pain.
If I'm asked to grit my teeth
It goes against the grain.
Approach me with a needle
And I go slightly pale
As though I'm being threatened
With a vicious rusty nail!
I demand to be unconscious
When nasty things are done,
And I've a strong suspicion
That I'm not the only one.
How awful to have lived in times
When pain was just the norm,
Only partially deadened
By a whiff of chloroform!
Imagine all the terror,
All the anguish and the fear,
As the surgeon in his white coat
Decided to appear!
Imagine how he'd pierce you,
And how the blood would flow.
Imagine yourself screaming
'No, no, no, no, no, no!'
He might dose you up with whiskey,
But would that be successful?
The ghastly operation
Would have been so very stressful!
So, next time you're complaining
About the sins of modernity,
Remember how science saves us
From old fashioned surgery.

1 comment:

Margaret Gosden said...

Great photo Brenda - I miss the drama of these trains,
waiting for them at Margate station to go to Victoria....