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Best City Poems

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Details | City Poem | |

9 11

                                    
                                                               
                             America the Free  ~             America the Brave ~
                           Freedom with price              Capitalism attacked
                            the many taken                   hearts broken still
                              one World                           try to rebuild
                            sadness and tears               fall hard with fears  
                            guilt by association             many accused still
                             souls evaporated                shattered dreams 
                            tears fall on innocence          left with anger 
                             The proud fearless             knew the inevitable
                              policeman fireman             many lives lost
                            grieving does not stop           12 years later    
                               New York city once          proud  & shameless 
                             refusing to let fears in          protecting ours 
                                left in shock still              question's unanswered                    
                               nothing learned                     nothing gained  
                                ready to attack                   many left behind
                              anger greets denial              anger meets rage 
                               unacceptable still                 refusing new love 
                            wanting days to rewind           let us go back in time 
                              acceptance  allowing           the victims leave in peace
                              the brave taken young           leaving us sadly old
                               haunting dreams                     lost spirits dwell
                               no answers to hate            never forgetting that day
                               Evil entered suddenly              unforgiving fate
                                entering our City                we stand with the fallen
                                 How to fix                            how do we Change 




           
            This can be read many different ways ~ This is a poem I am so proud to write ~









          


Details | City Poem | |

I dreamed a dream of You

Yesterday I dreamed a dream,
that had no end.
You in your white gown, and long, black hair flowing.
You were calling my name.
I heard you, but I couldn't reach you!

And when I say your soul was tainted.
You went out in the night life.
You dressed in your black, evening ball gown.
You danced till the Red Sun came out, over the horizon.

You smiled at me.
A flame in my heart burned red hot!
My knees and hands shook with nerves;
Nerves of love and joy.
I blew you a kiss,
but you turned away!
Oh, please don't turn away from me,
for I would die, if it happened again!

Your beautiful and golden heart showed me the truth.
The truth that every gentleman wants to hear.
I've seen you walk the streets,
in the blue dawn of August.
As I followed you, you stopped and looked at me.
You smiled so beautifully, and my heart fluttered into oblivion!

You walked with your friends and I went my way.
I couldn't find a single trace of you that day.
I cried out "Why did I leave her like this?!"
I looked for you, all over the courtyards and town squares!
Yet no sight of your beauty.
... No sight of your golden heart, that I hold so dear to mine.
Where did you go?
Why did you leave?
Why did I leave... that is the question!

I should have stayed by your side,
till the ends of time.

Yet I had left.
Why...?

One gloomy and parish midnight.
I came along a road,
and soon found myself in front of a wayward cafe.
Smiling faces all around me.
I spotted a beautiful face that outstood all the other faces around me.
It was yours.

Your face brought me to sanity and I went over too you!
You spotted me and tried to run!
I caught you in the dirty hallway and pulled you in.

Our eyes met and I fell in love once again.
Sanity re-entered my mind, body and soul.
I kissed you and you kissed back.
You held my hand, and we left the cafe and walked down the street.

The street was gloomy, yet we together brightened the dark street.
We went back to the lit up city streets, of the lands filled with smiling faces,
and we fell in love and slept together.

You lay there in my restless arms and I gave you a sweet kiss,
upon your sweet and soft head.
Your dark hair was sweet smelling and felt of silk.
I closed my eyes and fell asleep with you,
there in my arms and we dreamed together
till the morning came and woke me up,
and took you away from my weak and weary arms.

I dreamed a dream of you.

Details | City Poem | |

Where the City Folk Live

WHERE THE CITY FOLK LIVE

At the confluence of the cultures 
Where the politics ebb and flow
The tide of humanity crashes
Against their collective soul

The spires of religions
And posters of beliefs
Crush against each other
Through the weave of city streets

Registered colours of commerce
And trade mark tags of youth
Line the valleys of glass and steel
On floor, and wall, and roof

The constant clangs of progress
Idle growls of restricted motion
Drift across the green spaces
Invading every moment

The scent of communal sweat
Wafts upon the breeze
From the fires of exotic dishes
And the fumes of commercial needs

Feel free to swim the city
Frolic in the human flow
But be aware of the waves that break
Against your precious soul

Details | City Poem | |

Night Driving

I want to take a drive tonight
through a maze of half-lit roads
paved in onyx shadows.
I want to follow starry streets
that roll in waves of cold concrete
beneath the opal moon.
I want to cruise across the city
through pockets of rose gold light
that bury me in brightness
before throwing me back into night. 
I want to merge with this sea of speed,
hear that feline engine purr,
watch the world fly by in abstraction--
an incandescent blur.
I want to join the glowing ribbon 
of headlight pearls on midnight highways 
that twirl and spin in shimmering arcs 
of taillight rubies.

Details | City Poem | |

House of the Tragic Poet

Two thousand years, a tragedy is past
Yet it's history still leaves us aghast.

On a night, dreadfully dark
A  volcano erupted, leaving it's historical mark

Mount Vesuvius erupted in 79 AD
The first recorded in all of history

The entire city of Pompeii
Defiled and buried that fateful day

On written account of a man named Pliny
can we view this volcano's ignominy

A city in which artist and poets did reside
Everything was not  lost, the day all died

In centuries after, excavation has commenced
The city of Pompeii, antiquities recovered since

The House of the Tragic Poet, one of many unearthed
I will tell you about, from it's peristyle to hearth

Elaborate mosaic floors, frescoes on the wall
An inscription in Latin, from a dog guarding the hall.

The atrium filled with with Mythic Greek nudes
From the peristyle Achilles to be sacrificed exudes

Art along the east wall are of Achilles and Briseis 
and the tragedy of Helen and Paris, all cherished

About the entire house, a living poem depicted
Along with words, owner, an artist addicted.

Two thousand years ago, this home was owned
Loved and nourished by a Popeiian unknown.

The House of the Tragic Poet
If you saw, you would know it.

A. Green

Details | City Poem | |

HOSTEL, QUEBEC CITY, 1978



Pubescent class trip,
and I became enamored with impossibility
 
Vanishing verdigris yet cosseted 
the L’Auberge de la Paix,* a work-in-progress 

Floorboards slowed gawky treads with furrows.
Ten feet above, death-row cherubs 
surrendered frail wings, a plaster molting 
advanced by workmen too eager for the plucking
    
(the curse of romanticism 
is to perceive the imperceptible)

Home was a bungalow with suburb secrets, 
while the hostel’s curving staircase 
openly tattled on former hosts
and guests who had perfumed stale conversations
while carrying dance cards.
I could almost hear each half-note baluster 
and that treble clef handrail, so smooth, 
orchestrating encounters by the front door,
Bonne nuit, mon amour

Once, a Grande Maison owned by une l’artiste,
then, a hostel for students in the core of Quebec City,
the building charmed with its soft dishabille, 
stripped layers of faded wallpaper, pooling;
the pong of fresh paint and sanded wood
hustled the dame into the times
with ever-going modernization

Dorm rooms pouted

I was not interested in the tours
with their corpses of cannon balls,
toy soldiers arranged on miniature plains of Abraham,
narrow streets echoing with battle cries,
remnants of a lost sovereignty...  
the war of 1759
 
Why leave 
those thousand phantom pleasantries,
dusty sofas and freedom halls,
air hockey and air guitar,
new parlour games

Upstairs, bunk beds awaited roommates 
or daydreams
and creaked somewhat like nagging history 

But romance was a trompe l’oile, 
a fading fleur de lys,
and I can easily recall the coy throes 
of noisy pipes, closet confessions,
and giggling, blameless nights
when ghosts dusted every shifting wall,
altering even moonlight

 

* Written Aug 24, 2014

*The Peace Hostel, Quebec City
 31 rue Couillard, Latin Quarter, Quebec City

Grande Maison – estate
Une l’artiste – an artist

Details | City Poem | |

INNER CITY CHURCH PRAYER

Lord, take our FAITH we've kept with care 
And help it grow through work and prayer. 
By serving here in this dear place 
May we reflect your love and grace, 
And let this time of change renew 
A Christian FAITH that sees us through.

No things in life remain the same,
Yet changes have their time of strain. 
Before a butterfly takes flight 
It must endure a darker plight. 
How many winters must there be 
Before the twig's a fruitful tree?

Lord, take our HOPE we've kept with care
And help it grow through work and prayer,
By serving here in this dear place
May we reflect your love and grace, 
And let this time of change renew 
A Christian HOPE that shines anew. 

Do not let yesterday block out
Today's new tasks which we're about.
Help butterflies leave their cocoons, 
With life renewed—spread wings out soon. 
Help ripen too, the needed fruits 
Which grow from common, faithful roots.

Lord, take our LOVE we've kept with care 
And help it grow through work and prayer. 
By serving here in this dear place 
May we reflect your love and grace,
And let this time of change renew
A Christian LOVE, sincere and true.

As brothers, sisters, we are one 
Big family beneath your sun.
All butterflies are pretty things
Regardless of their varied wings.
Though trees bear fruits—some tart, some sweet,
They all are welcomed as a treat.

Lord, take our CHURCH we've kept with care 
And help it grow through work and prayer. 
By serving here in this dear place 
May it reflect your love and grace.
And let this time of change renew
Our sense of being ONE IN YOU.

© Sandra M. Haight 2014 
   All Rights Reserved


(Iambic Tetrameter)

Contest: Structured Forms-Iambic Verse II
Sponsor: Giorgio A.V.
Poet: Sandra M. Haight
Date: September 2014

Details | City Poem | |

the day you flew to Heaven


           We knew , it was if a moment stopped in time 
              hearing the news before most of the World did
           He loved to fly his plane from Colorado to Monterey Bay
           He was a avid golfer at Pebble Beach respected 

           He had loves and passions from many places 
           deciding to fly low through the overcast red sunset
            Not only did he love music and inspire all 
            He loved his Plane , he will always remain a beautiful Soul

              The next day it was confirmed ..all saddened 
             It was John Denver's plane that went down
             Today in Pacific Grove stands the Memorial 
             So Kiss me and smile for me we will ~
              always in loving memory 
               OH babe ,  do we hate you go ~    
                            
    

         Inspired by ; contest in Music and Loss of an Artist
                   "Leaving on a Jet Plane "
             

Details | City Poem | |

Retired

Strolling around town 
At prohibited time 
Ignoring the church bell sounds
While I see people hurrying 
Down the sidewalk
On their way to work 

Think maybe I'll find 
Pen and paper
And have a coffee somewhere 

Or maybe not

Details | City Poem | |

The Safety Valve of the Heart

A woman in rags with beautiful skin
Rusticity seen all over looking for a job 
To her the village sky was too small to win
She wanted to soar in a city sky to probe.

Moved to the city in one-room apartment
With her husband & daughter with wishes.
After some years the life gave a good start,
But her husband was attacked by paralysis.

Lying in a broken bed numb as a wound
She shed me deforming tiles of the rooms.
A life’s funeral procession was on its round
The man who loved her tore her to pieces.
 
She was still a beauty, accepted another
He made her laugh till she with joy me recall 
I gave her the feelings of a summer shower
She was happy that I was at her beck and call. 

As the time passed when her beauty faded
Embellishing her neck and wrists with jewels
Used rouge, kohl and hair artfully combed
No semblance of the beauty she was, Alas!

Heard the heavy steps on stairs in the night
Leading but to the bedroom of her daughter
I ran to help, heart torn, killed him with spite
Again cure for her was my salty taste and sweat.

I'm tear, multi-faceted emotions of heart much stressed
By happiness, grief, and pain when they are in excess.
 

Dr. Ram Mehta

==============================
Tenth place win in:
Contest: Personify a tear sponsored by HGarvey Daniel Esquire

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