Best Bronx Poems
Dawn awakens, lets yawn red searing sigh,
summer steams sweltering sweating sunlight.
Street's hot bed of coals smolders in July,
temperatures torch with tropical smite.
Haze humid stir-frying Bronx crispy craze,
housing is tinder, youth straggle sapped streets.
Rainstorm naught, nothing to break basting braise,
community chafing white wicked heat.
Day, baked yellow clay, dust dry makes you swoon...
pool of cool baptizing childrens’ new truth;
Mercy! Water main break floods ‘fore high noon,
thirst quenched, street's fluid, flows fountain of youth!
Liquid color splashes in rainbow spray,
heads happily anointed with prism pour.
Black-white exist - gray day grit washed away,
hearts watercolored in need of restore.
Revelry riots in verdant voices,
sprightliness sings in city oasis!
Eyes excite, smiles shine, refresh rejoices,
joie de vivre, full of life faces!
People all ages on sidewalk's sideline,
wish to beat heat but sadly no swim clothes.
‘Boxing ring’ pool, he imagines round nine,
celebrant boy smiles, strikes Jack Dempsey pose!
Susan Ashley
August 25, 2017
Categories:
bronx, children, city, summer, water,
Form:
Rhyme
The coolest zoo to view
With an all-around great crew
The children are running
Tiger Mountain is stunning
Hear the tigers chuffing
See the parents huffing
At Bird World, people are pouring
To see the birds soaring
Take a ride on the monorail
Around the Wild Asia Trail
In the Children’s Zoo, oh what fun
To visit the farmyard in the sun
The Indian Gharials are basking
While the children keep asking
Little penguins are splashing
The cameras are flashing
The lion pride roars
And the snow owl soars
Ring tailed lemurs leaping
While the Fossas are creeping
A Snow Leopard on the prowl
A Gelada Baboon with a smile
Western lowland gorillas interact
While the Okapi families attract
Sea lions are flipping and diving
Zoo babies are growing and thriving
Monkeys are climbing and swinging
While their little babies are clinging
Categories:
bronx, animal, family, new york,
Form:
Free verse
While I'm reading a poem about it on the previous page
the girls come over to visit their boyfriends and dance
in high shoes and perfume. Their legs are strong and their voices high.
And the guys get high and hard thinking about what the girls are like
behind their eyes.
That says more about me than reality. And it's exactly four lines.
Ken Patchen would say his angel smells sweet and sassy.
I feel the bony fingers of mine who has been working to stay alive.
Enough small poetry. One must conceive of a project--
say a poem about a bridge--or stop writing
and instead walk over the bridge at sunset and see the city in a nuclear
war
the clocks, the Watchtower and the docks gone and no smoke.
I still exist but I'm late for my job. I'm dressed well
in honor of true love and Spring which both outlast the holocaust.
The manager cans me with the cold hard eyes of one who accepts the
rules entirely.
Goodbye to the rows of dead metal desks and goodbye
to those who can take it longer than I.
The guys downstairs do not read poetry and very little prose.
The General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money does not
occupy their minds.
The sex pistils of the mountain daisy is no concern of theirs
and the man upstairs who plays the horn is less than a curiosity but makes
more noise.
When I feel like this nothing matters and this is good--
get warm with wine, turn out the lights and turn up the radio--
if only there were a woman who liked the down and out life too.
In the end someone sticks a gun in my face in the South Bronx.
How I got among the fire escapes in the sooty alley I cannot say
but it is one of my earliest memories. Perhaps it is my grandmother
holding my hand
or one of the clowns. I say Drop that goddamn gun and he blows me
away.
Categories:
bronx, city, dance, jobs, money,
Form:
Verse
she became a new york city
street corner fixture
acted like its the only place to be
acted like its the place for the persecutor to begin
after all all men are guilty
none are forgiven
so she painted false hearted judges
to prop up her proposition
to subvert the natural truth
she lied when it came down to the last hours
but i was unsurprised i had seen her coming
the deception was the rationalization
means to the end
just because you can lie means you should
integrity means so much more when
there is no shame in the game
so once again i ask
just because you can lie means you should
isn't it about change
or was that just part of the lie
i walked away
on a north bronx street corner never to return
no regrets
she had sold herself at every chance
for two bits silver
for a lies chance to shine
but i will not be there to suffer the consequences
just because you can lie means you should
isn't it about change
or was that just part of the lie
Categories:
bronx, anger, angst, conflict, recovery
Form:
Imagism
153 Street Station is clean
Down sturdy metal steps through
old Yankee Stadium field
where Ruth and Gehrig ran.
Pungent in the nostrils piss follows me
Up the hill where supers sweep trash
from yesterday’s deals and conferences
Broom bucket hose black bags.
Mothers pull young children to school
Their Diego Rivera faces
Chisled by want from old world stone
Set in the new world promise.
Adamantine trek no stopping
Climbing past the fortress courthouse
Crowded Social Service building # 145 (meth clinic)
Halal vendors hawking pastries
A lady with a cell to her ear in the lime green tracksuit shouts:
“What the **** is he to me?
If I can do what he do why do I need him to do what he do?”
Two young Black men in braids, swaying gold,
Pants down low wide-striding in step as they go,
“ Nigga says I got to stand a long time in that line. Whose line?
That’s his line not my line.
I ain’t standin’ in no long line”.
“Word”.
Crossing to the bodega on Morris Ave
where mi amor Juana takes my dollar twenty five
for the Schweppes Lemon-Lime
brushing by the bacon-egg-and-cheese-kids
pigeons pecking dirt
Up three flights to room 322 where
Students ask for pencils
while they tinker with the hardware on the windows.
Categories:
bronx, educationworld,
Form:
Narrative
Napping behind bushes at Van Corlandt Park I finally got up on my feet,
and being I was homeless and hungry I started to search for something to eat,
preferring to look for food in the shadow's at night was my objective,
that way I wouldn't be in the spotlight as I hunt around like a detective,
I'd usually go check out all the garbage pails that were put out for the night,
trying to be quiet as I rummage through them for a midnight bite,
finding a lot of leftovers was a cuisine that I'd munch down with delight,
getting all my night time feeding done before the sun light,
Then right before the break of dawn I'd continue on my way,
looking for another park to bed down for a good part of the day,
being a loner I didn't have anyone to give me directions to another park,
so I would just follow my instincts and continue walking on a lark,
Crossing over the Bronx River Parkway I took a chance hoping to find my way,
passing vehicles can tell when they see my coyote carcass which is now decayed.
11-29-16
Categories:
bronx, lost, new york,
Form:
Light Verse
On a sunny August afternoon
I went to the Bronx Zoo,
somewhat feeling blue...
I hurried to get there soon.
Tired of action movies, bowling halls,
long Poker games and silly talks;
I looked for new ways of sheer excitement...
perhaps animals would offer some merriment.
I walked around and observed hungry zebras
sticking out their long necks reaching for my bananas,
but the chimpanzees snatches them while they were distracted by a snake,
then quickly returned for more...Oh, I laughed hard at their stealthy trick!
The Bronk Zoo is located in the Bronx, one
of the five boroughs of New York City.
Categories:
bronx, animals, funny, places
Form:
Rhyme
Trash strewn all over the street
Graffiti every where
A cop walks the beat
Drug dealer ducks back down the alley
He feels the heat
Congested traffic
Honking horns
Homeless lady looking in the trash for food to eat
No shoes
News paper taped to her feet
Shots pierce the night
Sirens wail
Some bodies loved one lies dead in the street
Categories:
bronx, people
Form:
Water in the Bronx
Beautiful night as clear as day
Resting, for I am a believer
Can not wake up, maybe it is time to pray
For what I am about to see, makes me shiver
Walton High school, beside the subway tracks I stand
Is there someone with a cup?
As far as the eye could see, there is water all around me
And I begin to wonder as I look up.
As I survey this watery scene, all is silent and calm
And the water swirls gently on the ground
Something must have happened not unlike a storm
For there no one else around
Three feet deep, I feel as if this is a flood
Or maybe global warming,the land could be sinking
The mighty warrior may be looking for blood
While around me, people sleep, then wake up drinking
William Morrissey 12/23/04
Categories:
bronx, visionary, water, water,
Form:
Rhyme
The Iceman the Bronx/Tony Adamo
I DIG THAT THE ICEMAN’S BACK, HITTING THE SPOKEN WORD STAGES IN THE BRONX AND THE OTHER BOROUGHS IN NEW YORK/AFTER ALL HE IS BORN AND BREAD IN DE BRONX/WORD SPITTER/ JAZZ SCATTER/GOT THE CITY TURNED ON IT’S LITERARY HEAD/AS THE ICEMAN WOULD SAY/ GOT TO REDUCE THE OTHER SPOKEN WORD ARTIST’S TO ASH BEFORE I DIE/ MR. B, THE BRONX BOMBER/THE BRO WHO EVERY ONE KNOWS/YOU CAN DIG THE CONGO STREET BEAT IN YOUR EARS THROUGH HIS WORDS/POPIN’ STORY TELLIN’ BREAK DANCIN’ JAZZY TURNTABLE BREAK DOWN OF WORD PLAY/MAN DIG THIS CAT’S FUSION OF JAZZ MUSIC PUT TO SPOKEN WORD POETRY/ HE LISTENS AND SAMPLES INTO HIS MIND HEAD/ THE GREAT JAZZ HORN PLAYERS SOLO’S TO BE TURNED INTO A SOUND SYNERGY OF JAZZY WORDS/ MAN ,I CAN DIG IT, THAT FLOW THE ICEMAN HAS/ FOR THE RHYTHMIC FEEL OF IMPROVISATION IN AND INBETWEEN WORDS/IS PURE WORD ART, CAN YOU DIG IT?/ ON SOME GIG’S/ICEMAN’S SPOKEN WORD JAZZ COMES OUT LIKE COLTRANE’S SOLO ON GIANT STEPS/ HIS GRAFFITI LACED VOICE INFLECTON ON CULTURE AND SOCIAL ISSUES/ WILL HAVE YOU COLLIDIN’ AND TURNIN’ YOUR THOUGHTS INTO GIANT STEPS/ ICEMAN ON THE DECK OF FREE THINKING JAZZ WORDS/A DJ WORD HIPSTER/ THE SPOKEN WORD KING OF THE BRONX/HE’S GOT THAT LYRICAL CONTROL AND NO CONTROL/ MAN, THAT’S WAY OUT/SYNCOPATED RHYTHMS DROP LIKE PAINTED WORDS SPRAYDED ON THE LEX AVE EXPRESS SUBWAY TRAIN/ HE’S NOT FAR FROM THE BEAT WORLD OF KEROUAC,GENSBERG, AND PHIL LAMANTIA/ BEAT POETS OF THE COUNTERCULTURAL MOVEMENTS OF THE 1960s/ MAYBE THE ICEMAN IS A SPOKEN WORD PLAYRIGHT OR A ABSTRACT PAINTER OF WORDS/ SO DIG THIS/HE’S NOT VINTAGE OR INDIE/ BUT WAY INTO TODAY AND TOMORROW AND GONE/DEEP IN THE CATACOMBS OF NEW YORK CITY’S SOUNDTRACK OF BLOOD ,SWEET, AND TEARS/YOU CAN CATCH HIS VIBE/ AIN’T NO WAY TO HOLD HIM BACK NOW/HIS SPOKEN WORD MUSIC DELIVERY JUMPS ON THE ELEMENTS AND COMBINES JAZZ, FUNK AND SOUL WORD TUNES/ TO LAY THE LISTENER OUT WITH HIS DISTINCTIVE WORD SPEAK, SPOKEN JUMPIN’ WORD/ HIS STORYTELLIN’ POETRY WILL BEND YOUR MIND/ THE ICEMAN BREATHS LIFE INTO THE SOUL OF THE SPOKEN WORD WORLD OF JAZZ SPEAK
Categories:
bronx, spoken word,
Form:
Spoken Word
(To American Protesters)
Let them go on with puppetry and think our life is a game
Or a gambling scene where they win at the cost of our dear name,
Just to heap wealth or fix their steps in more future collusion,
Boasting of serving poor people, seeking to reach their own aim.
Let others sleep or clown around. We know who he had in mind
Who first introduced Republic1 — not these fools who have no shame,
Not lawyers, or politicians, or dealers, sunk in the ditch
Of legal fraud and truthful lies, our dignity to defame.
With these seekers of private wealth in the name of their nation
This fallen world shall not prosper; it shall sure burst into flame.
True devoted scholars we need who rely on native means,
Not robbers looking for riches outside their own inland frame.
Let’s not take part in these fool games. They ‘are not’ the s.h.i.t they claim.
Once we are fooled, for four odd years ourselves we shall have to blame.
10.23.’20
1. See Plato’s Republic.
No comments, please!
Categories:
bronx, america,
Form:
Ghazal
As just about everyone knows,
New York City has five boroughs.
You could be standing in Queens or Manhattan.
Living could also be in Staten Island or Brooklyn.
No other borough has what we have here.
Everybody has heard of the “Bronx Cheer”.
The Bronx is familiar with that infamous sound.
The boys in pinstripes have endured many a round.
Stick your tongue out, put your lips together, and blow.
To voice your disapproval, that is the way to go.
Categories:
bronx, funny
Form:
Rhyme
> holy godless troubadour
>
> saint of beauty's truth
>
> cigarettes and shades
>
> acoustic electric real
>
> all despite himself
>
> wisps words notes for us
>
> tries hard to set us straight so
>
> he can find the keys
>
> slim poet shaded
>
> behind the lenses a world
>
> where what is is all
>
> history's losers
>
> found light hope space or justice
>
> in dashed-off lyrics
>
> lonesome deaths or worse
>
> songs sung and shhh shhh listen
>
> all whispered demands
>
> reluctant poet
>
> his mysterious women
>
> blueprints for Bronx girls
>
> curly hair blue eyes
>
> sliced into green eyes straight hair
>
> across vinyl years
>
> forever aged
>
> his young blood blonde on the tracks
>
> dispense theft and love
>
> his words notes guitar
>
> venomous antidotes cured
>
> some isolation
>
> slim medicine man
>
> without advice or consent
>
> his unknowing salve
>
> highways horses war
>
> spaces between the words tell
>
> nothing everything
>
> museless save for him
>
> behind dark shades and guitars
>
> kids pretend to know
>
> songs of souls' desires
>
> innocent criminal finds
>
> you me and himself?
>
> pissed off cranky faced
>
> chubby baby cheeks tell of
>
> loss more loss and hope?
>
> slim still no wiser
>
> wise enough for forty years
>
> screw the weatherman
Categories:
bronx, life, love, mystery, words,
Form:
Blank verse
HE'S BEEN lied too
CHEATED ON
THE SUBJECT OF
EVERY SAD SONG
BROTHER
NEVER A FATHER AND
DEFINITION OF
A BAD SON
HE CAN'T FIND A REAL
WOMAN
WHO'S BEEN THRU
HALF THE THANGS
THAT HE'S DONE BEEN
SOME WOMAN PLOT
AGAINST GENTLEMEN
TRY TO MAKE THEIR
EFFORDS VAIN
THEY UNDERMINE
AND ARE MEDDLESOME
THEY TAKE THEM
FOR GRANITE
AND TAKE THEIR GAINS
WHEN YOU FIND A WOMAN
AND TRY TO COMPROMISE
THE WOMAN AROUND PLAN YOUR DEMISE
THEY SOUGHT THE PRESSURE
AND STRAM THE STRAIN
LIKE I SAID BEFORE
TO TAKE YOUR GAINS
A REAL WOMAN WANTS
AND WORKS FOR HER TREASURE
SHE STORE IT SO
SHE CAN SHARE WITH YOU
THESE
GHETTO SUSHI'S
I COME ACROSS
THEY
DO NOTHING
AND BLAME
EVERYTHING ON YOU
HE'S BEEN LIED TO
AND TALKED ABOUT
THEY USES HIS WORDS
TO PULL HIM APART
WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE
I'LL TELL YOU FACT
SHE WANTS TO DESTROY
ALL YA'LL KNOW THAT
HE CAN'T FIND A
WOMAN
WHO DONE BEEN THRU
HALF THE THANGS HE
DONE BEEN
Categories:
bronx, betrayal, break up, conflict,
Form:
Ballad
Bronx cheers, muffled in December
‘The Boys of Summer’ have vanished
gone the way of the playground
ghosts of warmer climes
Slants of ice fill the empty stands
Cheers – or boos – reserved
for vagabonds
for drifting wads of paper
Categories:
bronx, december, farewell,
Form:
Free verse