Best Cities Poems
what grows from these petri dishes?
when will these hives
with their metal monsters
their deceiving smiles
their artistic like visages
stop breeding,
stop growing,
like a virus?
what of the fertile land they cover,
the resources they consume?
what of their ravenous appetite?
and barely
a forest untouched.
17~12~2014
Maurice Yvonne
It was tantalizing, sweet completion
Lines of blue ink filling white space
Tastes of emotions, colors of consonants
Music of vowels, syllables singing
To create, and satiate
Then, time thinned
Responsibility and stress stepped in
Poetry, after all, does not pay the bills
Stop cloud watching and become an adult
They said, and they were right
So I packed her away, that silly girl
relegated to the dusty back room of memory
Gray and wilted, foolish scribblings
Nobody cared about anymore
Years, decades of feigned disinterest
Begins to dissolve in rediscovering
The flash of joy in composing
Ignited by a song-writing friend
Who dared encouragement
Steps sluggish, atrophied, but there
Saved in muscle memory
I hungered for nourishment, for balance
On unsteady limbs - I wanted my silly girl back
And I have her, revived on Soup from
My poetry sisters and brothers
Now, I am gaining
The reach of my wings
Soaring over cities of sonnets
Neighborhoods of roundels and rispettos
A haiku hamlet, an acrostic alleyway
Kingdoms of pantoums and villanelles
To the unfenced openness
Of free verse
I am still the bedrock of me
Stretching to climb taller trees.
2/23/19
I lived in Shenzhen, China, for my 6th and 7th grades - China was AMAZING.
In China, blond hair is unusual, I stood out like neon and touching blond hair was considered good luck.
In a train station, if I stood still, I could draw a curious mob - especially in the provinces like Heubi and Shanxi. I was in more than a few selfies but people were polite and respectful.
China is much more advanced than the U.S..
Everything is new, clean and modern - the Internet is faster. Most trains are bullet trains that travel 325kph (>200mph). There are more than 10 new, gleaming cities larger (and newer) than New York.
An App called WeChat (used on your phone) runs the world. Imagine Facebook, iMessage, PayPal and Uber combined - with that one App you could do anything.
At restaurants, you paid your bill at your table using WeChat from a QR code that the electronic corner of your table displayed. You even paid street vendors with the app - no one used cash.
Cameras are everywhere - if you break a law like jaywalking and BBBZZZZ you get a text and the fine is deducted from your WeChat account - all automatically.
Public TV screens, located on corners, show recent violations with the perps picture and the fine they paid - again, automatic.
Does this sound Orwellian? Well, maybe, but Chinese police don't kill people - or even engage people for minor offenses.
America, you're broke and on the edge of being a third world country.
Yeah, yeah, I know that China is free-market-communist and certainly imperfect - but if you saw China, you'd be impressed and you'd know the ugly truth - America has squandered it's wealth on military macho and forty years of war. China's last, small war was in 1980 (With Vietnam who they beat in 3 weeks and 2 days).
Middle America looks almost bombed-out with closed businesses (even before the pandemic) - but in China, you can’t look anywhere without seeing building cranes - like a forest of trees. A physical illustration of Americas loss of wealth.
I LOVE America - it’s sad to see. We've gotta wake up.
How thrilling was a novel long ago
I read for school: A Tale of Two Cities.
It tells of common people whose great woe
comes from the upper class’ atrocities.
A doctor tortured in Bastille has been released.
To London he returns and regains his health
with his daughter Lucy’s help. To the east,
things get ugly for the French with great wealth.
Two men love Lucy: Sydney and Darnay.
She weds Darnay, who’s lied about his family.
They’d locked her dad up. She forgives him anyway!
But now he has big problems. He’s nobility!
It happens that poor Sydney has a face
much like Darnay’s. Though Sydney’s never been
a man of character, he will find grace
by taking Darnay’s place at the guillotine.
This novel shows the need for reformation
and is a treasure from Great Britain’s past.
It teaches redemption through transformation.
Dickens’ stories through the centuries will last.
Feb. 19, 2017 for Line Gauthier's Life lesson from a favourite novel
A barrister tottering through alleys of London,
Alcohol-shamed when espied;
Slinking home at four in the morning,
To a pillow of tears never dried.
Sidney Carton's the wretch whom others denounce,
He groans at his puffy, ruined face in the mirror;
Daring not to yearn for dreams long abandoned,
Departed down whiskey-dulled rivers.
Still from eye's corner notes he the resemblance
To erstwhile hero, Charles Darnay:
That dashing Frenchman who's captured the heart
Of the woman for whom Carton secretly prays.
So, milking that resemblance for all it is worth,
Carton offers up his life, brutish and mean,
Inserting his own head, instead of Darnay's,
'Neath the knife of 'Madame Guillotine.'
When sure of morality down here on Earth,
We suddenly uncover confusion,
Villains prove heroes and heroes mere villains:
Is Certainty but an Illusion?
Atop a hill of ice and snow
There sits two cities built long ago
One of black, an ominous place
The other of gold and captivating grace
People journey from near and far
To see a view entirely without par
A castle of obsidion, made to last
And an elegant town, of light and glass
Rarely appearing to those that seek
Caring not if they are strong or weak
But if you travel in the frozen waste
You may find yourself eventually faced
With a view on which few mortals have layed eye
Majestic beauty under the endless blue sky
She sent back the last order, as well.
This time, she shook her head
like a dog in the rain,
like a posh-frock woman
having "a spell."
The brimming broth, she said,
had a bitterness that swelled
and stung between her cheeks,
and across her tongue.
It steamed with the scent
of turmeric and sweat,
a lipstick kiss in the basement
of the Red Grotto Used Bookstore,
of a Dominican girl, half her age,
in skin jeans and red sneakers,
pulling her by the hand
during Summer City Lit Festival
last year.
She claimed she craved the
steaming heat of our menu's
Andean soup,
but bones like razors waited
when she raised the brim
of the bowl to her lips.
Just like the wine she sent back,
she said that the broth bit her lip
with a vicious grin
when she closed her eyes,
opened wide,
leaned in,
and tried to love it
with the whole of her mouth.
A dear friend asked me the other day
"Which is the city you call your own?"
I wanted to give a precise answer
But couldn't find out which one
Is it the city where I was born
That still echoes my murmurs
In the whispers of rosy mornings
And spreads my fragrance with the wind
Or is it the city where I went to school
That still preserves my frayed memories
Of broken pencils and faded pages
And the benches where I played along
Is it the city where I had lost myself
That still glorifies my mistakes explored
In all those struggles that it has kept
Hidden between dried petals of my diaries
Or is it the city where I found glory
That still reminds me of beautiful days
Shared smiles with my parents
And moved forward to find my road
Perhaps it is the city where I hadn't lived
It still carries my experiences with strangers
Of a weekend spent to find myself
In the history of a city that wasn't mine
I don't know which one it is
For I belong to every city I have visited
Left a part of me there to blend in the air
Picked another part and dissolved it in me
With the molecules and moments
That create themselves for me
I look back to every frame that was me
And let it unfurl a history of mine
I am not sure if there exists a city
That we humans can call our own
Or why else would we feel we belong there
When we procreate our lives in those cities
May 17, 2020
BRIAN'S CHOICE H,any form,any theme
Winner: Honorable Mention
We should plant more trees
In the cities of the world
Beside the roads
And on the roofs of buildings
To reduce air pollution
Contemplating atop the “Great Wall,” was Neruda comparing similarities of this and “Machu
Picchu?” Was there more commonality beyond stonemasons craft? High stone walls ancient
cities, “great walls,” lesser ones (Berlin) are designated barriers between peoples/ideologies
for protection. Long standing cultural isolation results.
Constructing a fence of wood at Isla Negra afforded symbolic protection. Wooden slats
allowed words over and through pickets to the world beyond. If “Machu Picchu” was “a trip to
the serenity of the soul,” fences and “great walls” lie on opposite sides of that.
Neruda’s prolific poetry rose above politics unencumbered by walls, fences or dogma.
for contest on Pablo Neruda
A letter from Bristol arrived on my doorstep
I knew its contents would cause me such pain
An invitation for a routine mammogram –
My Goodness …two years have flown past again
I arrived at the breast-screening center
And sat down on a bright lime green chair
The x ray room I soon would enter
I’d have to strip off my pink underwear
The radiologist asked me some questions -
Did I have any worries about my breasts…
I replied they were droopy and sagging
And no longer pert on my chest!
The radiologist laughed at my answer
My humour really did break the ice
We discussed the detection of breast cancer
She listened and was so very nice
It was time for the dreaded deed to be done
Each breast squashed as flat as a pancake
Two images were taken of each compressed one
Good grief my boobies don’t half ache!
A few moments discomfort can detect cancer
Soon the pain was gone from my Bristol Cities
Early detection is really the answer
And in two years they will re squash my titties!
09~23~16
(Bristol Cities is cockney rhyming slang for titties)
Athens, quite a place, so full of mythology
Buenos Aires, in Argentina, a place I'd love to see
Canberra, is just antipodean class
Dublin, a pint of Guinness in a glass
Edinburgh, the capital of the Scots
Freetown, a city, now violence is never sought
Georgetown, a place where Jim Jones left a scar
Helsinki, in its mountains, where reindeer herd so far
Islamabad, one of the greenest cities of the east
Jakarta, very close to where the Komodo's live and feast
Kuwait City, the start of Saddam's downfall
La Paz, is the capital, that looks down on them all
Monaco, where the rich and famous live
Nassau, with her golden beaches, where the breakers finally give
Oslo, in the land of skiing and fjords
Prague, with its architectural hoard
Quito, is the second highest in the world
Rome, to the lions, the Christians were hurled
Seoul, in the lands of the 38th parallel
Tripoli, where many an Anzac's fell
Ulaanbaatar, in a country full of steppes
Valletta, amidst the Mediterranean set
Warsaw, the ghetto's in World War II
Xi'an, its all i have to see this through
Yerevan, near the Biblical mountains, of Ararat
Zagreb, escaped being a Balkan War stat
Written 3/1/2010.
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/the-world.php
The sky starts where is the end of the city
Indeed, the villages are growing into cities
Riding the colourful balloons,
country is now really flying !
The picture of a surprising world,
is also really looking nice
Law and protection in one hand
and on the other, the values
will be stabbed in one night
Is there any hero who can fight !
There is the devil and
deep blue sea is also there, right
Looter, splendor, alliance, votes and notes
You can see all of them but you are acting
as if sleeping and do not wake up again
You are not a 'Z' category that before you fall
you will know when it stumbles and where
Always change the colour like a lizard
and you will learn how to mimic and
what is called an adaptation craft
Communication speed will be faster
but parents will be disconnected for ever
Only a few days are left ...
The villages will grow into cities !
The big debate : “What is a city ?” –
A town created by a charter
And often with cathedral church
But sometimes with an ancient abbey.
St David's, Pembroke is the smallest,
Just twelve hundred citizens
And London is by far the largest,
Populous eight million plus.
Many sprawling conurbations
Are the backbone of our nation :
There's Leeds and London, Bath and Bristol,
Canterbury, Sheffield, Hull;
Then Cardiff, Glasgow, Edinburgh,
Norwich, Wells and Peterborough,
Oxford, Cambridge, Manchester,
Swansea, Truro, Chichester,
Worcester, Portsmouth, York and Belfast,
Carlisle, Chelmsford, Perth.
In cities there is entertainment
With cinema and theatre too,
Museum, gallery and concert hall –
A cultured way of relaxation.
A city has a green side too
With parks and gardens to explore,
Pedestrian precincts help us shop
Away from traffic noise and fumes.
I recommend a city visit,
So many secrets are in store.
Leave your car outside the ring-road,
Hop on a bus to start your tour.
Lego Cities
Square blocked infrastructures formed from a meddling mind
engineered and fused together with sticky grape popsicle fingers
the Lego Babylon rises with its hanging gardens
strewn along the carpet floor.
A Mesopotamian oasis of multi-colored plastic struts
carelessly scattered for archeologists to decipher.
All those strange cuneiform residues of fingerprints
left by the sugar filled deity who set them in place.
Catalyst of that industrial architect
whose cubicle fortress of a daydreaming metropolis
sits in the corner of the living room
awaiting its devastation from future gods
armed with vacuums and nap times.
nathan martin 2009