So our travels are over for another Summer. We’ve seen and wrote about many places. Today let’s celebrate the means of our travels. Pick a mode of transportation and write with that inspiration in mind. Sometimes, getting there is half the fun. Take us along however you go!

Take the "A" train!

Take the “A” train!




    She sits on the spur
    with her smoke stack puffing
    as she chokes back the steam.
    A water stop perhaps, or a stop
    on an excursion to yesterday.
    I used to stay at the edge of the field
    yielding all my attention to the
    mere mention of railroadiana.
    And in the early evening dusk
    the musk of bygone years
    cheers you. You inhale deeply.
    You’re as happy as can be!
    Next Stop, Willoughby!

    Liked by 5 people

  2. Kayak

    It’s a solo – glide
    water ripples quietly
    stirs silent lilies.

    Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2015

    Liked by 2 people

  3. […] Rising –PLANES AND BOATS AND CARS (AND TRAINS AND BIKES…)Pick a mode of transportation and write with that inspiration in […]

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Sunday Drive

    singing in the back seat
    of the old green Chevrolet
    sisters learning songs
    their mother loves
    “Hey, Hey, Good Looking”
    and “You Are My Sunshine”
    as miles pass by
    both hoping that Dad will stop
    for ice cream

    Liked by 4 people

  5. William Preston


    The big bus would run
    between the cities
    and always I’d look
    for the roadside ditties.
    Burma Shave.

    NB: Walt may not be old enough to remember the Blue Bus, an intercity line that travelled mainly between Buffalo and Rochester, New York, USA, with a midway stop in Batavia, which was the home base of the line, as I recall. In the early 1950s I used to travel on that bus every summer, and the Burma Shave signs were still posted along roadsides. The signs originated in the U.S. midwestern states, I think, but by the 1930s they were ubiquitous. Those interested might like to review them at

    Liked by 4 people


    Plymouth Duster, powder blue,
    why did I not hold onto you?

    My first car, a hand me over,
    but classic lines, a real mover.

    Had I kept you I’d have painted
    so your rep did not get tainted.

    I had a plan to customize you,
    but rust and primer would disguise you.

    I held you for as long as able,
    but your memory became a fable.

    Yet today I wish I had you,
    more than just a passing fad. You

    gave me joy when I was a lad,
    I wish it didn’t make me sad.

    Oh Plymouth Duster, you were the best,
    A part of you beats in my chest!

    Liked by 2 people

  7. Electric Biking through Victoria

    At first a little bulky
    A little confusing
    A little scary
    Give it a try.
    Now for the ride.
    Pedal along.
    Time for the electric part.
    Put it in gear.
    Zip up the hill.
    Past the tourists in horse-drawn wagons.
    Past the shimmering lake at sunset.
    Watch out peacock.
    Feeling like a pro now.
    Must give it back.

    Liked by 2 people

  8. Flights of fancy
    do not come with
    an airsickness bag.
    Keep your jet lag,
    I hate to fly!

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Boating on the Lake

    We rented a pontoon on Claytor Lake
    spent the day with kids and grandkids
    meandering atop the glittery water
    enjoying a lazy day as the kids jumped
    from the side and swam and splashed
    then yelled that it was time to tube.
    Oh, my, what screaming and laughter
    as they rode the bucking and twisting
    beast but kept their grip till one big
    surge tossed them, arm and legs thrashing,
    into the warm, choppy waves with a
    squeal of let’s do it again.

    Liked by 2 people

    (a shadorma)

    Summer sun
    setting on humid
    horizon ~
    backdrop for
    the little engine that could
    bring you home to me.

    P. Wanken

    I responded to this more as an ekphrastic prompt, using the image from your prompt. Thanks!

    Liked by 2 people

  11. A reprise from early 2013, my response to PB Prompt 109…it came to mind when I thought of planes…


    When our small plane took flight,
    it was mid-afternoon,
    but the sky looked like night.

    Not long into the trip
    we realized the danger,
    the plane rolled and dipped,

    setting off warning lights and bells.
    Our pilot fought for control,
    and our stomachs rose and fell.

    My sister got sick
    losing her lunch. I hadn’t eaten,
    because I couldn’t pick

    out all the chunky tomatoes.
    It’s a good thing, because
    they don’t go well with tornadoes.

    Liked by 2 people

  12. William Preston


    Across the land, on the land
    and sometimes bridging vacant spaces,
    the train would render rock and sand
    as artistry in humble places

    and often offered us new graces
    that made the mundane wide and grand
    and took us, with expectant faces,
    across the land, on the land.

    Liked by 2 people

  13. Time Zoned Out

    There once was a man on a train
    Who traveled across the great plains
    He consulted his watch
    While sipping a scotch
    Were the hours a loss or a gain?

    Liked by 1 person


    emblazoned on the side,
    quite a ride across time zones
    and the “no place like home”
    destination seems eons away.
    To say this was your preferred mode
    would be a misnomer! Requiring
    more wind than an overbearing
    and pompous Wizard could provide.
    You pride yourself on being headstrong,
    but you’d be wrong to say you harbored
    no reservations. Leaving three behind
    to find your way back, a sad fact is
    they’ll remain on your mind and
    in your heart, and if you had the courage
    to start this journey you might just find
    they’ll never leave you the way you have
    left them. The journey’s end.
    You’re not in oz anymore!

    Liked by 1 person

  15. Elegant Express

    In the rich wooden
    parlor cars, curtained
    in red velvet, I dine
    on fine china, drink
    from crystal goblets.
    At times travel is delayed
    by weather, a small hitch
    easily assuaged by scenery
    of mountains and seas.
    Stops occur in exotic places,
    and you say goodbye
    to faces that have become
    familiar. From Paris
    to Istanbul, the Orient
    Express is the finest
    way to travel.

    Liked by 1 person


    Every time it is the same thing
    I am calm to the point of trance-like
    No longer needing actual medication
    I have learned various methods
    of self-talk and the like to quiet
    my racing thoughts and my heartbeats

    And sit, buckled in properly, studying
    the emergency info with real attention
    But still not panicked, noting escape
    routes, the tiny lights that will illuminate
    same should such an unlikely event
    occur – the need to escape that is …

    We are backing out of the hangar
    area and taxiing out to the runway.
    The captain is saying soothing things
    in two languages – it’s Canada after all.
    The flight attendants are going through
    their puppet show with oxygen masks
    and seats as flotation devices, etc.

    When suddenly the captain tells them
    abruptly to sit and buckle up: we have
    clearance and the plane swivels—
    As they say—on a dime—and I can feel
    the engines fire up – all the thrusters
    or whatever they are pushed forward
    ready for take-off and, I am awash

    in sweat, my heart’s thudding.
    There is no way this massive solid
    object is going to be able to resist
    gravity’s pull – there is no way!
    Belief is only a comfort of earth
    and upward of earth, a reality so thin
    the lungs cannot take it, and my
    lungs are burning, gasping for air.

    A kindly woman beside me holds
    an open brown bag out, bids me
    “Here dear,” she motions. “Put this
    over your mouth and nose and breathe.”
    I do what she instructs, close my eyes
    “That’s it, just breathe deeply and
    listen to the bag going in and out.”

    Moments later, without any help
    from me, we are silver soaring through
    the atmosphere and I am amazed
    and so thankful to the fates,
    to this seatmate, to whomever
    it is that allows this miracle to happen.


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