Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2011

Getting There

by Stephen Beattie

The train devours miles,
suburbia flashes past,
a speeded up slideshow
of 1930’s semi
and faded Victorian villa.
Random patterned gardens
flicker colour, others patches
of bramble strangled neglect.
Then comes red brick terrace
and decaying tower block.
The land of boarded up,
of rusting corrugated-iron:
back walls topped
with teeth of broken glass.
We dip into the tunnel
the vista disappears.
Carriage window becomes a black mirror,
conjures back my reflection.
I smile at the face
that has anticipation in its eyes:
it smiles back.
One stop before the end of the line
I alight; walk through a maze
crafted from steel, glass and new beginnings.
Seeking metaphor I note the hesitation
before sliding doors decide to open.
I step forward and there you are, waiting,
my destination.

Added: 27.04.2011

Judges' comments on this poem


Really enjoy the feelings of anticipation you captured in this poem, maybe could make the first two stanzas into one to make even better.