Best Big Apple Poems
I made a trip to New York
and surely looked like a dork
staring at the sky
scrapery so high
(and sometimes ogled a nork*)
I took a walk to the dock
heard so many kinds of talk
from seething masses
(and some were asses**)
all I could do was just gawk
I went out to Ellis Island
'cause Woodie*** says it is myland
and it is yours too
it just wouldn’t do —
to exclude folks from the high lands
deserts, swamps or wherever.
I think we should endeavor
(since most of us once,
were just immigrants)
to welcome them forever
or give it to first peoples,
tear down our pious steeples.
Stop saying we care
(if it is hot air)
Stop our slaughter of sheeples!
I tend to ramble a lot.
My trip to the melting pot?
Was a WOW I’d say
and maybe one day
I will return at a trot.
Salute to souper Ilene
(a fan of, I’ve always been)
and to that Billy
who is so silly****
They live in that crazy scene!
~~~~
asteriskus explanus:
*aussie slang word (google it)
**not all were asses — overall I found New Yorkers much less rude than I had expected (based on what I’d been told)
***Guthrie - the folksinger
****According to hisself, souper Sillybilly Thekidster
Central Park's cool event in May
Brings the gigolos out to play
Ilene says, "Its true!
They're all over you!"
Its Banana Split & Run Day
When I made my birthday cake wish
A cockroach hopped onto my dish
More frisky than some
It looked rather glum
When it found the cake was not fish
Life is like the ocean,
Vulnerability is your sail,
Hope is the wind that propels you,
To the land that's known so well.
Trees are made of stone and glass,
Stretching high up in the air,
Concrete paths replace the grass,
Their people have no fear.
They walk with all their might,
To a place they do not know,
Peddling their wired wheels,
To a destination untold.
To prosper is their glory,
Their shrines are built so tall,
To stand beneath the mortar,
One can feel a bit small.
Pay no mind to them in a rush,
Their always on the move,
Don't try to slow them down though,
They can be a little bit Rude.
I believe they truly mean well,
In the efforts that they make,
But only the old man in the desert,
Or the famous fortune teller,
Can make that claim.
So if you have a week or two,
And you want to see the sites,
You should raise your sail with glory,
So hope can blow you in tonight.
R.K.H
10/24/2021
Mother's Day in the Big Apple.
While drinking Snapple under
an apple tree.It sort of made
me cry.It sort of made me sigh!
Remembering all the things moms
do for a son,over a lifetime.
Remembering all the things moms
do for a son,in general.Since the
Big Apple has plenty of moms to
speak of.It would be wise to mention
our dads aswell.A dedication by mail.
By sending them a card,from the Big
Apple Farm.And never forgetting we
were sons..
Mother's Day Poetry by Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2010,2014..
All rights reseved
so Bloomberg has no problem
with the coming of the
drones---
that’s right folks,
the mayor of your city
has no problem with invading your lives
to the point where
the swooping
electronic
birds
can come right down & seek you out,
so that the pigs can be
absolutely
everywhere at
absolutely
every
time.
happy to be in the city?
happy to be an american?
happy to be watched in this
“democracy”
like an ant under a
microscope?
feel like a criminal,
even if you aren’t?
let me ask you this---
does it make you feel like you should
give em’ something to watch?
has it gotten to that point yet?
it will.
You walk fast
New York,
Heavy stampede
Steps
The concrete ground
You stand.
I married you
In April,
Costly
Earsplitting
Streets
Awaken me.
Global breath
Aromas
Vibrant
Sparkling eyes
Vanished evermore.
I’m back,
We have matured.
I pictured her milking an udder
And it made my whole body shudder
Then mum piped up,
"Forget her, pup!
She's bound to be some buddy's mudder!"
I gaze upon the Statue of Liberty and think of what she stands for
To give shelter to the huddled masses and hope for the poor
I think we lost focus on what make this country great
I open my eyes before it becomes too late.
There are so many treasures in this city to find
I keep my eyes open so I don’t miss a sign
I start at The Empire State building to catch a view from the top
The view was so breath taking I felt my heart stop.
Down below everything looked so small
Except for the buildings, they were quite tall
You could see all the bridges that connected all the parts
In the center is Manhattan much like the heart.
I go down to the ground and then I stop
The buildings scrape the sky you can’t see the top
The shadows they cast are larger than life
It’s hard to imagine they co- exist with the strife.
I walk to Central park one of my favorite places to be
Surrounded by skyscrapers the trees are like a green sea.
It’s so peaceful and quiet I find a rock on which to rest
I look up in a tree I see some birds in a nest.
Next stop is Strawberry Fields my favorite place
People are here from every country and from every race
Seems that peace and love are understood by all
The rich and the poor the big and the small.
I sit here and write as my inspirations rises
Surrounded by things of all shapes and sizes
Soon it will be time for me to go back home
But for now this feels like my comfort zone.
I see these opposite worlds living side by side
The peace in the park while the world rushes by outside
The contrasts reflect and by the pond I do stand
I seem to discover just who I am...
There is a young woman I met near Times Square;
She's five-foot-eleven with lovely brown hair.
We were both buying tickets at the kiosk that's there
For a show at the Palace that starred Richard Gere.
So she told me she dances, but that landing a gig
There on Broadway's not easy; Competition is big.
And she moves through the crowds with a natural grace;
Watching her's such a pleasure that I must hide my face.
But her style, you know, can scarcely compare
To those twinkle-ing eyes, and what they hold there.
It's to bask in her presence that's the purest of joy;
And I feel like nothing but a lost little boy.
But my feelings for her are not puppy love
Though she seems like an angel sent from above.
But, alas, I'm a pauper, who can't pay the rent
And she merits a man who's much more like a gent.
So I'll have to be happy with watching her dance;
As a husband with family I haven't a chance.
If I only foresaw that I'd meet her one day
My own life would have gone a much different way.
The rooster crows at the break of dawn.
I rise to write a poetic song.
A look through the window,
and I hear someone shout!
What brings' you to the Big Apple.
I say, I came,
by the way of the creator.
Then I replied with a night out on the town.
I look and observed all around.
I seen with my eyes',
even though I was deprived of sleep.
As the crowds gather in the streets.
The crowds begin to applaud.
I joined in and started to clapp,
as these talented brothers and sisters,
was chanting their art of rapp.
I continue to stand,
as the crowds' expand.
What a treat
it was watching
these brothers and sisters
break dance.
I observed and learned
knowing someday it'll be my turn
to express a poetic song.
These brothers and sisters
sure can chant the art of rapp,
and not only that by chance.
These talented brothers and sisters,
can perform the art of the break dance.
I look through the window,
at the break of dawn.
A rooster crows,
as I write a poetic song.
I hear someone shout!
What brings' you to the Big Apple.
I said , I came,
by the way of the creator.
Yellow cabs and pavements they call sidewalks,
Grand Central Station and the Metro too,
Central Park as big as a small city,
The Empire State’s great panoramic view.
A walk through Greenwich Village or through Chelsea,
The Hudson flowing deep beneath our feet,
Madison Square Garden for the boxing,
Musical named 42nd Street.
Take a ferry over to the statue,
That’s situated on Liberty Isle,
Stand at the base of the one World Trade Center,
The tallest u.s. building for a while.
Brooklyn Bridge and Rockefeller Centre,
A symbol of amazing self-made wealth,
Times Square to welcome in a brand new year,
A Macy’s trip to help your mental health!
The yankees stadium lies in the outskirts,
Back to the centre for a Broadway show,
Bloomingdales the height of any fashion,
Museums and Parks everywhere you go.
So get a cycle or hire yellow taxis,
To see most though I’d recommend you walk,
To see sights of a 24 hour city,
The magic and the beauty of New York!
From an awesome fountain, teeming with life
Out of her depths arose a city of lights
Built upon the shoulders of native sons
A place of hope, liberty, and freedom invites
For centuries her gates have been open wide
Welcoming hoards of strangers from afar
Bringing multiple cultures, traditions, cuisines and skills
Now a “melting pot”, a bright, twinkling star
Her people once thought of as cold, and uncaring
On broad streets, and alleys, the death toll was high
Now a change of heart for the better is born in
The world's "Big Apple" reaching to the sky
Pedestrians rule the city
Cross-lights are ignored
Rushing to the neon lights
Above the night-life doors
The middle finger is a common response
To a car horn’s incessant blare
Flashing lights from billboard signs
Reflecting on pink hair
New York City on any night
No matter the day of the week
Not a place for the mild-mannered tourist
Or a playground for the meek
City lights replace the sun
As if it never set
Don’t go home before twelve-o’clock
The party hasn’t started yet
Taxi cabs will run you down
It’s just another dent
You have not been pick-pocketed
That money you have spent
You can repeat Sinatra’s line
“If I can make it there, I’ll make it anywhere”
Just don’t be insulted if we are not impressed
Because New Yorkers don’t really care
New York, NY – Night Time
its where to be
to have the key
to a wonderful night
you seen,was when its right
the
BIG APPLE LIGHTS