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Best Urban Poems

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New Urban Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Urban poems are below this new poems list.

Urban Afternoon Reflection by Anish, Matthew
Urban academy by Burovac, Milan Georges
Joyous Urban Scene by Anish, Matthew
New Reflections on the Urban Scene by Anish, Matthew
Urban Tale by Anish, Matthew
An Urban Species by MrP, Thisis
Urban Tale by Anish, Matthew
Urban Sprawl by Gorelick, Barbara
Flourishing Urban Way by Sangwai, Neelam
Hot Child In The Summer Urban Dwelling by Mills-Kelly, Debbie

View all new Urban Poems

The Best Urban Poems

Details | Urban Poem | |

Industrial Nature

Ride the railway, passing the water tower,
Painted production high like a sun flower.
Howls of the engine, hooting as an owl in the night.
Buildings are the trees that come into sight.
Structured stone the jungle, vines the electric cable,
Survival of the fittest, one must be strong and able.
Wildlife runs on rubber, headlights the hunters eyes,
Camouflage the chaos among the concrete lies.
Chemical clouds collect to make shapes in the sour sky,
Blade of helicopters and wings of airplanes birds fly.
The complexity of industry echoes in the acidic air,
Beast hide in plain sight, protection of their lair.
 There is beauty in the broken, birth in the breathless blur.
 When the railway train passes through the industrial nature.


March 23, 2015

More great poems below...


Details | Urban Poem | |

Who Am I

I am the ring around Saturn
spinning words as particles of ice and dust
with the power to transcend

I am the original chosen to be right here right now
transmitting verbal frequencies 
through speaking my thoughts into existence

I am the heir of omnipotence,
born with a direct connection to profound abundance 
The one whose words will age, yet still have substance;
since there are no boundaries attached to my pen

I am constant energy
Translating personal experience into imagery 
Vulnerable to tyranny,
yet i continue attempting to share some truth
through this abstract language of poetry

I am the core
I am that I am more
I am the Divine Presence that is the Source of my rewards

I am the green you get when you mix too much yellow with the blue
That shade of gold you get when the sun resides into darkness
and when it ascends in the dawn burning dew
I am the transition between the third and fourth dimension of time;
the love you feel when you realize how it feels

I am the poem that is abstractly direct
because I write beyond limits
absorbing frequencies from 3 to 8 hertz
through meditation for several minutes
I am the one bridging the gap between
the analog ascension and the direct connection to spirit
The one who is love
because I am a descendent  of it

I am the rhythm that the wind blows
I am the beginning and the ending of stories told
about the universe and how miracles unfold
I hold the power to accept judgement from those who will do just that
Not knowing that I am them in the absolute reality of me
Judge that

I am knowledge beyond measure because that is my right
So I continue meeting the different parts of me
when I meditate and write
Who am I?
I AM, THAT, I AM



Details | Urban Poem | |

The Carcasses

The Carcasses Their shells remain Picked clean by hungry vultures Ravenous with greed. Gouged-out eyes Now bare hollow sockets Vacant in their stare. Morsels of choice parts Deftly stripped or torn away— And gutted vitals Furtively devoured, Have filled the wanton needs Of scavengers who shared the feast. One carcass rests Flat on bony frame Supported once by plump, round legs On which it mightily ran. There they lie— Those brittle, empty shells— The poor, abandoned clunkers— On the Harlem River Drive. © Sandra M. Haight 2014 All Rights Reserved ~3rd Place~ Contest: East Jesus Sponsor: Roy Jerden Judged: 01/02/2015 Theme Based on Photo

Details | Urban Poem | |

Are There Any of Us Left

The cruel streets I walked made me sad
I looked not at him, nor at her
Those who passed me by, gutter grads
I felt at home among the curs
We were outcasts from hearth and home
Over the land our kind did roam.

Looking here and then searching there
As many as stars in the sky
By foot, by car, sometimes by air
We wanted to understand why
We couldn't go back where we'd been
Burned our bridges and that's a sin.

Some were poets within their hearts
A killer or two in the crowd
And some were like me; a la carte
Doing what it took to be proud
Some chased women, some ran from them
And in the melee some lost a gem.

I sit here writing words of mine
Wondering how many are left
Who write words and sell for a dime
I have escaped death's cold, cold theft 
I have fought the fight and I've won
I'm old yes, but I've just begun 

Details | Urban Poem | |

Granny Panty Annie, the Tranny

Lemme tell ya' about a
*ding-bat skit-zo 
bee-hotch* tranny
named Annie...

I met her one night 
under disco lights 
up at Candies

She was 
starin' at me
grittin' her teeth
aimin' ta' see 
if I wanted a piece
of he 
OR
of she 
by way of flashin' granny panties

She was
shootin' pool
actin' a fool
so I 
took a shot
and one tiny glance 
but got caught

So I
lit up a smoke
and tried to play it off cool
but it was too late
she had pulled up a stool

She slurred,
"Hey young felluh, where ya' been all my life!"

I replied, 
"Sorry to burst yir' bubble, but I got a wife!"

"That don't matter kid, what she don't know won't hurt the girl" 
as she fisted my collar and yelled, "I'LL ROCK YIR' WORLD! Annie the Tranny is what they call me. Bet you been wanted ta' bone me since you first saw me!"

Fear and frustration danced on my face
I begged the bouncer to 
"Get this he/she outta the place!"

My pleas were to no avail, 
and that sea donkey lurked hot on my trail
flailin' it's arms and grindin' bar stools with it's tail

Speakin' of tails...
a shiny blue wale tail crept up her back
Her jeans were mean, but couldn't hold her underwear's elastic slack
but at least it beat feastin' eyes upon her crack
then she... 
wrapped her grimy hands around my neck and asked, 
"You n' me, boy, what the heck!?!"

I screamed,
"Look here lady, you seem real nice for a tranny;
but...
ya' see...
ya' need 
to hit the bricks,
you
and yir' Granny Panties!"

At that point the joint started to really heat up
people were glarin' like they really wanted me beat up
I can't recall how the hell I got out of there 
alive and free
it was like a big manly freight train
headin' dead at me

I'm pretty sure I owe the good Lord a big favor
that beast was the devil
and Jesus was my Savior!

It's a night I thought would never end... 
the night at Candies Bar n' Grill
Granny Panty Annie got a thrill 
tryin' to make me her sexy friend!!!



More great poems below...


Details | Urban Poem | |

Shawty Got Swag

$hawty Got $wag
Shawty got swag, Shawty mad dope. Face all cheesin’, She real turned up. Goin’ to da club, She steppin' wit her peeps, Lookin’ so ratchet, She’s straight up hoochie.
No racks in her pocket, No stacks in her wallet, But she all into bubbly Slurpin’ and burpin’. Lookin for a big baller, Who’ll give her wat she wants, Wildin’ on the dance floor, Tweakin’ an’ freakin’, Shawty actin' so cra cra! She just like da rest a dem, But Shawty real fly, Sure likes a lotta ice, Bling bling, and Benjamins.
Shawty creepin’ to hook up Coz she needs a boo wit finesse, Who’ll give her Yves St. Laurent, 5-star hotels, and 5-star restaurants. Shawty off the chain, Shawty off the hook, She got game and she’s aight! Shawty da bomb - fuh real!!!
Entered in contest “Ebonics – Let’s Do Some Slang" sponsored by Verlena S. Walker (8-18-2014). Some Terms and Definitions: shawty – a young attractive female; dope – cool, nice, awesome; swag – style; turn up – excited; mad – really a lot; peeps – friends, close pals; baller – a thug that made it in the big time; racks/stacks– lots of money; aight – alright; wildin’– to go crazy, acting out of control; cra cra – crazy; tweakin’/freakin’ – dancing provocatively and moving around out of control; cheesin’ – smiling; finesse – man who has swag and can spend a huge amount of money; ratchet – ghetto diva; creepin’ – sneaking about; bubbly – champagne; bling bling – expensive flashy jewelry; Benjamins – hundred dollar bills; boo – one’s lover; da bomb – the best of the best; game – skills; ice – expensive flashy jewelry usually diamonds or jewelry with diamonds; off the chain/off the hook – excellent, fantastic, awesome; fly – cool, in style; hook up – getting together with someone romantically; hoochie – a female who dresses trashy; straight up – absolutely, really.

Details | Urban Poem | |

Exit 7b

1.
they say everything here is
somewhere in the middle of the road
where names get bleached and keys forget about their doors
and there is something we should dig our coated nails into; 
the layers of regret and anger
that our mothers tell us to peel off 

2.
but the sun bakes us too hard and rancid
laying down on styrofoam mattresses
where someone pokes their thumbs through the plastic
watching nothing but empty bubbles reflecting
and life is faded, glossy pages of a magazine
with a worn bar stool with cigarette burns thrown in between

3.
and we all carry this restless, tormented beauty 
that gets up and leaves
as soon as they say
it will settle down 


© Gry W Christensen

Details | Urban Poem | |

A Different Game

Friends and trouble go hand in hand.
Legends of the  neighborhood.
Like statues  and vacant buildings  still stand.

A crime in plain view no one ever saw.
Held hostage in fear.
The mouse sturggles to escape from 
cats claw.

Blood on the bricks  that stains my mind.
Time takes me away.
Yet never leaves the memory far behind.

Summers in the city nights run into days.
We turn are backs to the truth.
But in this game everyone plays.

Heros are villians  depending 
on who you are.
Stories told bout the other night.
Hidden truths  like the bat under the bar.

The players are future tombstones
Men glorified beyond there name.
the citys children caught within her  confines.
Forced to play a different  game.

 


Details | Urban Poem | |

Urban Forest

  All I hear are sirens echoing off tall buildings; a drunk man ranting, a prostitute looking for her next trick, a drug addict looking for his next fix. Young teenage kids who seem to have just learned the art of curse. A young couple fist fighting in the streets---more sirens.  A homeless man pan-handling, picking up cigarette butts and smoking a hole into his neck, gum pushed deeper into concrete marked blacker with every step. All I hear are sirens and I say a little prayer for the person in the back. Trains and boats chiming in the distance, a stray cat limping into an unknown existence...must be nice to have nine lives! Yet, all I hear are sirens in this concrete urban forest, where trees are replaced with buildings and cars are the only waves I hear, street lights in place of the stars, sirens in place of the wind. 

   I close my paper eyelids tight, i can hear in this concrete urban forest of man-nature, for a glimpse, a stolen second in time, the sound of Mother Nature...she still sings and she's crying. She's crying for the people in the back of all those sirens. She cries for her bush the drunk man urinated on; the puddle of blood collecting on her blades of grass that a young man drew from his womans lips. She cries for her branch the teenage kids snapped for fun. She's crying - Mother Nature - is crying, because man - nature takes her place. In this concrete urban forest...all I hear are sirens and I close my paper eyes; i try to reach out and steal the tear off of - Mother Nature's - face. All I hear are sirens and im saddened, man-nature takes her place.

Details | Urban Poem | |

Myself in Urban Chaos

Here I go again, focused on myself.
Remembering, analyzing,
Memorializing tragedy.
Thinking, endless thinking.
Suicides, death of grandmas, past loves.
Pining about passions and losses.
The condo I had to let go.
The jobs I left behind.
And the cemetery lots.
My mind wonders around in circles.
From darkness to darkness, city to city,
Job to job, decision to decision 
My children, I embrace with love.
Those years riddled with joys and pains.
Trying, always trying, 
Yet, still disappointed.
Clinging to religion, remembering God.
Accepting –
Then, the child in me curls up
Safe in my warm cocoon,
And I think of you in the next room.
Life made new, fear subdued.
The touch of your hand, my confidence renews.
That forever love so long wanted, found at last.
The pressures I once knew moved to the past.
To the outside world I say adieu.
I was lost in the hollow of myself.
Outside of myself, I found peace. 
Memories blot out urban chaos
And focus on woodland happy days.
Struggles not so painful anymore.
Peace found its hope in you.
…And then, we spoon.

Copyright January 15, 2014

Written for Poetry Soup member contest: Contemporary Figurative Artiste Stephanie Deshpande in Contemporary Free Rhyme Free Poetry Contest 
Sponsored by Cyndi MacMillan.

Inspired by Stephanie Deshpande’s portrait of a Sleeping Child http://www.stephaniedeshpande.com/porfolio/

Details | Urban Poem | |

Juicy Kaboosey


her derriere in the air high eyes wearing out
Than-Bauk written for Rick Parise's contest

Details | Urban Poem | |

GOOD NIGHT PRETORIA

The sun kneels to kiss the 
skyscrapers
The Darkness floats above like 
clouds
And those homeless become 
accidental campers
Setting their plastic beds on the 
cold flours

These black concrete rivers
Flood with moving lights
And its banks are swarmed 
With men who’s faces lulled 
Locked in deep thought

As the night ages once more
Laddies emerge from the 
Corners of the streets
Clothed with nothing but 
desperation and despair
As they seek an audience with 
men of matrimony,
They sway their hips fishing 
them to their cause 

Good night Pretoria, the city of 
dreams.

Details | Urban Poem | |

Streaking at the Mall

Eddie went to the mall full of spunk
He was always real proud of his junk
While taking a leak
Decided to streak
Suzie yelled, “Mommy, he has a trunk”

Details | Urban Poem | |

Blood upon Pages

As I place the pen
on paper
my soul beings
to bleed
upon the pages
my secret longings
hopes and dreams
of which I hope to be,
how I want to reflect me
transpire into the universe
within my poetic lyricism
the warm sweet smoke
of my vega blunt
swirls about me, flickers
in and out of motion
as the vanilla candle nearby
fights the shadows in my room
the cool summer breeze
from my window
carries dancing sinsemilla 
fog around me, allowing
my mind
to adventure elsewhere
into the nights abyss
of minutes, turned to hours
I write
pages, of words
scribbling my life, struggles
and fears
Bob Marley and Lauryn Hills
“turn your lights down low”
beat inspirational peacefulness
on my eardrums
my small hands delicately pluck
my imaginary guitar strings
as I join her in a solo, Miss Hill's
magical voice cracks
with emotion, and my soul
tingles with excitement
For creativity flows
within my veins
I breath real music, such as
she, as soon as daylight opens
thine dark brown eyes to see
The poetic flowetry, carries me
and speaks to me
the notes capture my inner 
disturbance and desires
until the soundtrack of my day
takes me into Summers night
thoughts of my dreams 
of being a published poet
clearly float
into my sight
Then, I sit
as I place my pen
upon the paper
black and white turn to one
and my soul bleeds
onto pages
into an early sun

Details | Urban Poem | |

Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Nite

Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Nite
I wish we can all die from old age
Life is a book death is the last page
Brave, be brave against the dying of the light

The ignorance of temptation makes desire feel right
Though roses have thornes you thirst to own one
Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Nite

The ones who survive, though gutsy, remember the fright
Be it luck or having blessings from one
Brave, be brave against the dying of the light

Children dive to safety as brids take flight
This affair is normal to some
Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Nite

The young are hard-head, and the elders are right
Live by the custom die by the gun
Brave, be brave against the dying of the light

And to you, my brother, I pray you stay strong
Life is a book, may your pages be long
Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Nite
Brave, be brave against the dying of the light.

Details | Urban Poem | |

blood transfusion





Details | Urban Poem | |

SHINING

     SHINE"ING"

        Shining with my lively smile,
  keeps you in denial with my G-Q style.
  You say it's murder, I say it's a mistrial.
    You misapperehend me to not understand me!
              I can sell ice to a eskimo,
      fire to the devil that lives down below.
         I'm the tower with the infernal powers,
            shining with infinite brightness,
              causeing definitely blindness!
                  I wanna be rich *****!
           Thats why I keep the gun at my hips!
                      My lips soft as silk,
                   body as smooth as milk.
              Your addicted to the way I spit,
              I'm a convict held in comtempt.
                Your baffled by my ego,
                but it just the principal!
                       I'm shine"ing"
         I'm a dependant of the money I make,
             and addicted to the abuse I take,
             prosecuted for the way I think!
             I'm the air that fills your lungs,
      I'm that pill you take when you have a headache.
 Solid as my body that naturally retains the same shape.
            The illest part of my personality,
                   is the identity of me!
          The diversity of being in the streets,
              is truly the best part of me!
                       I'm Shining

Details | Urban Poem | |

Little Coffee House

Little Coffee House 

It’s the coffee counter line-up
A conveyor belt of people 
Ready for their little treat
A little piece of comfort
From their favorite beanery
I strum as I watch them 
My guitar like an old friend
They should say hello to -
But they never do 
   
Little Coffee House
My band’s playing for you
But what do you do
You just want want want your cups
Your little coffee mugs
So move up to the front

Funky-spiked hair dude
Jokes with the worker
He leans on the counter
(I think that he likes her) 
But people are waiting
And he’s hesitating
So all the shoe tappers  
Start to harass him -
Hurry up and pick one fast

Little Coffee House
We’re playing for you
But what do you do
You just need need need your cups
Your little coffee mugs
And that little coffee buzz  

I look around the room
There’s a girl in a red shirt 
Looking out of the window 
She sips on a latte -
I think she’s an artist
She lays out her sketchbook
But she doesn’t start to draw 
She turns to face the wall –
What are we doing wrong?

We don’t have to be inspiration
But how ‘bout entertainment?
Are we a distraction?
I can’t help but asking 
Are we an invasion 
Of the air?

Little Coffee House
We’re playing for you
But what do you do
You just sip sip sip your cups
Your little coffee mugs
Not listening to us

There’s a man on a laptop
There’s a girl reading Sherlock
There’s a guy on a cell phone
A boy eating Jell-O 
I want them to look up
If they’d look up they’d see us
Are we so bad we should shut up?
Because I feel like we just suck -
I feel like we’re not even here
We’re jamming 
To inattentive ears 

Oh Little Coffee House
I feel I’m at a loss
We’re playing here for you
But what do you do
Your busy coffee mouths
Keep sippin’ till it’s out
If only you’d listen
You’d hear what you’re missin’
We’re not
Just another gig 
Someday, we’ll make it BIG

Sip sip sippin’ cups
Those little coffee mugs
Sip ‘em till they’re out
Little Coffee House



Details | Urban Poem | |

Background Music Before Sleep

  In the asphalt homeland 
I lay down to sleep 
   In the background 
a saxophone wails
  and relaxes tired muscles 
Streetlights cut through the darkness
    The day has passed 
as days do 
   This city dweller 
wishes to head off to 
    dreamland 
Jazz in the background 
   lets his mind wander 
through sweet pathways 
     not created 
 by the hands of man 
   My heart beats with a rhythm 
stolen from the heart of the city 
Sax wails, drums beat 
pianist plays lovely riffs
     My dreams will be filled with joy 
 tonight 
for I know 
   there are plenty 
of 
others
in 
this 
city 
   who will join
me in the jazz fantasia  
   which awaits us

Details | Urban Poem | |

----OCCUPY: The Soup -------


Infuriated by greed
so we Occupy city streets
tired of being lied to 
divided by tyranny 
of the Elites
sickened by offshore banks 
ran by gangs 
known as the Fed
while political infidelity 
shakes the White House bed

What happened to the basic foundations 
for which this nation was built?
maybe the people’s aggravations 
will identify our leaders’ guilt

No justice lies within this 
“heads they win; tails we lose”
so now we take a stand 
against their scam
because we’re through with the abuse

Details | Urban Poem | |

Urban Tale

Autos whizzing by 
   streetlights and apartment lights cut through the shadows
TV is off - I pick  up a pen 
Sit down - write another poem
  Tomorrow a poetry walk in New York city 
 Words sometimes leap off the page 
    Find their way into your inner being 
   City poets capture the essence of the asphalt homeland
with a well constructed line 
   There are dangers in this large metropolis 
  But there is also joy 
If you know here to look for it 
Drank an egg cream and ate an egg roll today 
At a Lower East Side festival 
   Saw a klezmer band, a Chinese orchestra 
and the Peking Opera 
   What a panoply of cultures here!
    The sparkling eyes of a child
catch mine for a moment 
  We both smile 
The years leave their mark on the city streets 
and on the inhabitants of this North American Mecca
    But this city has a large heart 
Sometimes it is difficult to realize that
But at times the soul of New York 
   reaches out and grabs you 
Explains, in urban tones, what it is all about

Details | Urban Poem | |

Night in New York

This city demands to be explored
   It aches with the yearning of a living metropolis
The broad masses of the people 
   take sustenance from it 
    One cannot help but believe that 
the city is a living organism 
Does time tell everything? 
   Time is a manic relative of this city 
   If you know this you can survive in this urban homeland 
You can thrive when 
    you know that 
the swift pace of life here 
   keeps you on your toes 
   You can survive 
when you realize 
that the millions pounding the pavement 
are searching for the peace you seek 
The bright lights which shine in the shadows 
are reflected in a million eyes 
Every time you see a smile in this city 
      Treasure it 
for the hectic pace of this asphalt homeland 
allows for only brief moments of love

Details | Urban Poem | |

Dreaming an Electric Reality

Late at night 
    hearts pounding 
heads in the stars
   Three young me 
head over to the local diner 
   Their bodies are in one place 
 but their souls are somewhere else 
    The cloak of night surrounds them 
As they journey to their destination 
   Laughing out loud 
 They light up the darkness
In this Unreal City 
    the taste of unreality
may be just what is needed 
  Auto lights are reflected 
on the asphalt 
    The asphalt homeland 
where these youths 
    are living out their fantasies
and enjoying laughter 
   The laughter of youth

Details | Urban Poem | |

Secretly Obsessed

Obsessed with the thought of you
wondering if it's only me or
if you sometimes remember the sweet things you've said
and if you meant them how I took them
or if I'm just obsessed with what's in your head

Obsessed with your very sentences
Every response I take personal
I know it's selfishness
Have you not noticed my eyes?
They hold secrets that only you can unlock
if you'd just take time to fill the thick juices of my pride
It's just boiling with lust, passion, trust and distrust
and other things I obsess over so much

I find myself writing to free myself from this prison I've created
where only you and I reside
I become confused about what I'm really feeling inside and I 
try to rid the thoughts that are highly debated as false and I
begin to cry and
think of casting love spells so that the universe can deliver this affair
I know it's unfair
but I don't care

I'm obsessed with what hasn't happened between us
I'm obsessed with your heart and that the fact that 
I don't think you've even noticed my selfish innuendos 
and secret undertones that blatantly express my lust
Or maybe you have and you calmly remain in resistance of distrust 
If you could only read my mind by simply touching my fingertips,
I'm sure I'd catch you out the corner of my eye biting your bottom lip
I'm obsessed with the passion and thoughts I think you have
Obsessing over an experience that I may never have....






Details | Urban Poem | |

Battle of the words

Bravery is the father of fears
Dreams are distant cousins of nightmares
Hope is the sister of prayers
Every night shame lays down and gets screwed by despair
Pollution abuses Mrs. atmosphere
It's a battle between personality and reality 
But obviously nobody cares
Maybe it's because big tough is the uncle of little scared
Planning is deeply in love with prepared
Procrastination is the biggest enemy of determination
Ignorance is jealous of realization
Sometimes strength can get sneak attacked by temptation
Silence can never defeat a great proclamation
When the brain disagrees with the heart
The body dies of complications


Love your self...