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Famous Short City Poems. Short City Poetry by Famous Poets

Famous Short City Poems. Short City Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best City short poems

See also: Best Famous Short Poems | Short Member Poems | Best Short Member Poems | Top 100 Famous Short Poems

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by Carl Sandburg

Fog

 THE fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on.


by Edward Lear

There was a Young Lady of Tyre

There was a Young Lady of Tyre,
Who swept the loud chords of a lyre;
At the sound of each sweep she enraptured the deep,
And enchanted the city of Tyre.


by Edward Lear

There was an Old Person of Troy

There was an Old Person of Troy,
Whose drink was warm brandy and soy,
Which he took with a spoon, by the light of the moon,
In sight of the city of Troy.


by William Carlos (WCW) Williams

The Great Figure

 Among the rain
and lights
I saw the figure 5
in gold
on a red
firetruck
moving
tense
unheeded
to gong clangs
siren howls
and wheels rumbling
through the dark city.


by Edward Lear

There was an old person of Pisa

There was an old person of Pisa,
Whose daughters did nothing to please her;
She dressed them in gray, and banged them all day,
Round the walls of the city of Pisa.


by Wang Wei

Wei City Song

 Wei City morning rain 
dampens the light dust.
By this inn, green, newly green willows.
I urge you to drink another cup of wine; west of Yang Pass are no old friends.


by Robert Louis Stevenson

To Charles Baxter

 OUR Johnie's deid.
The mair's the pity! He's deid, an' deid o' Aqua-vitae.
O Embro', you're a shrunken city, Noo Johnie's deid! Tak hands, an' sing a burial ditty Ower Johnie's heid.


by Li Po

Listening to a Flute in Yellow Crane Pavillion

 I came here a wanderer
thinking of home,
remembering my far away Ch'ang-an.
And then, from deep in Yellow Crane Pavillion, I heard a beautiful bamboo flute play "Falling Plum Blossoms.
" It was late spring in a city by the river.


by Walt Whitman

Walt Whitman’s Caution.

 TO The States, or any one of them, or any city of The States, Resist much, obey
 little; 
Once unquestioning obedience, once fully enslaved; 
Once fully enslaved, no nation, state, city, of this earth, ever afterward resumes its
 liberty.


by Li Po

Leaving White King City

 White King City I left at dawn
in the morning-glow of the clouds;
The thousand miles to Chiang-ling
we sailed in a single day.
On either shore the gibbons' chatter sounded without pause While my light boat skimmed past ten thousand sombre crags.


by Robert Herrick

THE OLD WIVES PRAYER

 Holy-Rood, come forth and shield
Us i' th' city and the field;
Safely guard us, now and aye,
From the blast that burns by day;
And those sounds that us affright
In the dead of dampish night;
Drive all hurtful fiends us fro,
By the time the cocks first crow.


by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Beautiful City

 Beautiful city

Beautiful city, the centre and crater of European confusion,
O you with your passionate shriek for the rights of an equal
humanity,
How often your Re-volution has proven but E-volution
Roll’d again back on itself in the tides of a civic insanity!


by Oodgeroo Noonuccal

Understand Old One

 What if you came back now 
To our new world, the city roaring 
There on the old peaceful camping place 
Of your red fires along the quiet water, 
How you would wonder 
At towering stone gunyas high in air 
Immense, incredible; 
Planes in the sky over, swarms of cars 
Like things frantic in flight.


by Wang Wei

Bound Home to Mount Song

 The limpid river, past its bushes 
Running slowly as my chariot, 
Becomes a fellow voyager 
Returning home with the evening birds.
A ruined city-wall overtops an old ferry, Autumn sunset floods the peaks.
.
.
.
Far away, beside Mount Song, I shall close my door and be at peace.


by Li Po

Parting at a Wine-shop in Nan-king

 A wind, bringing willow-cotton, sweetens the shop,
And a girl from Wu, pouring wine, urges me to share it.
With my comrades of the city who are here to see me off; And as each of them drains his cup, I say to him in parting, Oh, go and ask this river running to the east If it can travel farther than a friend's love!


by Walt Whitman

I Dream’d in a Dream.

 I DREAM’D in a dream, I saw a city invincible to the attacks of the whole of the rest of
 the
 earth;

I dream’d that was the new City of Friends; 
Nothing was greater there than the quality of robust love—it led the rest; 
It was seen every hour in the actions of the men of that city, 
And in all their looks and words.
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by Li Bai

Parting at a Wine-shop in Nan-king

A wind, bringing willow-cotton, sweetens the shop,
And a girl from Wu, pouring wine, urges me to share it.
With my comrades of the city who are here to see me off; And as each of them drains his cup, I say to him in parting, Oh, go and ask this river running to the east If it can travel farther than a friend's love!


by Wang Wei

Mount Zhongnan

 Its massive height near the City of Heaven 
Joins a thousand mountains to the corner of the sea.
Clouds, when I look back, close behind me, Mists, when I enter them, are gone.
A central peak divides the wilds And weather into many valleys.
.
.
.
Needing a place to spend the night, I call to a wood-cutter over the river


by Claude McKay

The Citys Love

 For one brief golden moment rare like wine, 
The gracious city swept across the line; 
Oblivious of the color of my skin, 
Forgetting that I was an alien guest, 
She bent to me, my hostile heart to win, 
Caught me in passion to her pillowy breast; 
The great, proud city, seized with a strange love, 
Bowed down for one flame hour my pride to prove.


by Charles Bukowski

Love and Fame and Death

 it sits outside my window now
like and old woman going to market;
it sits and watches me,
it sweats nevously
through wire and fog and dog-bark
until suddenly
I slam the screen with a newspaper
like slapping at a fly
and you could hear the scream
over this plain city,
and then it left.
the way to end a poem like this is to become suddenly quiet.


by Carl Sandburg

Bilbea

 BILBEA, I was in Babylon on Saturday night.
I saw nothing of you anywhere.
I was at the old place and the other girls were there, but no Bilbea.
Have you gone to another house? or city? Why don’t you write? I was sorry.
I walked home half-sick.
Tell me how it goes.
Send me some kind of a letter.
And take care of yourself.


by A S J Tessimond

Wet City Night

 Light drunkenly reels into shadow;
Blurs, slurs uneasily;
Slides off the eyeballs:
The segments shatter.
Tree-branches cut arc-light in ragged Fluttering wet strips.
The cup of the sky-sign is filled too full; It slushes wine over.
The street-lamps dance a tarentella And zigzag down the street: They lift and fly away In a wind of lights.


by Philip Larkin

If Hands Could Free You Heart

 If hands could free you, heart,
 Where would you fly?
Far, beyond every part
Of earth this running sky
Makes desolate? Would you cross
City and hill and sea,
 If hands could set you free?

I would not lift the latch;
 For I could run
Through fields, pit-valleys, catch
All beauty under the sun--
Still end in loss:
I should find no bent arm, no bed
 To rest my head.


by Walt Whitman

Sobbing of The Bells The.

 THE sobbing of the bells, the sudden death-news everywhere, 
The slumberers rouse, the rapport of the People, 
(Full well they know that message in the darkness, 
Full well return, respond within their breasts, their brains, the sad reverberations,) 
The passionate toll and clang—city to city, joining, sounding, passing,
Those heart-beats of a Nation in the night.


by A S J Tessimond

Seaport

 Green sea-tarnished copper
And sea-tarnished gold
Of cupolas.
Sea-runnelled streets Channelled by salt air That wears the white stone.
The sunlight-filled cistern Of a dry-dock.
Square shadows.
Sun-slatted smoke above meticulous stooping of cranes.
Water pressed up by ships' prows Going, coming.
City dust turned Back by the sea-wind's Wall.


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