Best City Poems
I am the weed
Nestled
In a crack in the pavement
Dismantling concrete
Crumbling foundations
In this man made world
Rooted in the earth
Despite the city
I am the seed
11/05/18
Composed for Line Gauthier's
Zen Poetry Contest
We will walk then, you and I
When daylight shuts her weary eye;
Down the streets where beggars sleep
And drug crazed addicts spend their keep.
On streets that wind through thick and thin
Past monuments of broken sin
The painted whores who smile a lot
A rejected child that time forgot.
The evening hymn that sorrows sing
The call to prayer that church bells ring;
The sounds and smells that rape a city
The calls for help that won't find pity.
Do we have time to heal the curse
That captures all the universe
Or would it really be worthwhile
To quell the question with a smile?
But we have walked these streets before
And hoped our ears could dim the roar
Of silence gripping cold nightmares
That come unbidden up the stairs.
We share the night with lesser fools
Who stake their plight without sound rules
For each new challenge finds old pain
That lives to give then comes again.
this non conformist city
breathes a calm but edgy air
through gaps in the graffiti
and the street art everywhere
its face is sometimes brutal
but its heart and soul seem not
and it walks a sexy diverse walk
that’s cold yet somehow hot
(but I know I’m getting older
when those fun thoughts in my head
reject the swinging KitKatClub
for KitKat bars instead)
and all those wearing AirPods
sipping hot drinks on the go
pass tourists taking boat trips
slowly going with the flow
while the 'high tea' of a bratwurst
served from food trucks on the street
is eaten at tall tables
en plein air without a seat
and just like high end stores at home
the windows dress up nice
displaying bling that's priceless
- as it’s shown without its price
note too that no one jaywalks here
by crossing roads at will
not even during rush hour
when the traffic’s standing still
and when it comes to bridges
here’s a fact that crossed my mind:
there are more here than in Venice
and in Amsterdam combined
and by saving time by taking trams
that move berlin about
we spent time taking time in parks
where locals take time out
while the aiming and the shooting
by the wall towards the west
was just us aiming cell phones
shooting selfies with the rest.
but the death camp films and clothes we saw
of the many that were killed
brought tears that drowned a silence there
for the blood that humans spilled
and I cannot start to comprehend
the minds of those who kill
and just because I went there
- and just because I stood there
- and just because I wrote this
doesn’t mean I ever will.
Verse 1
His coat is torn his
shoes are thin
The cold cuts deep beneath his
skin
Little boy coughs small
hands that shake
Winter's breath is much to hard
To hard to take.
Verse 2
Sidewalk echoes silent
prayers
People pass but no one
cares
Cardboard kingdom borrowed
time
Every step is a mount-
Mountain climbed.
Chorus
And the city turns
away
Like they never ever knew his
name
Still he holds his boy so
close
Chorus 1st Ending
Runs through streets to bring him
home. (1x repeat back to beginning of chorus)
Chorus 2nd Ending
Whispers / "Son, we're going
home."
Verse 3
Once had a home once had a
plan
Once held hope in calloused
hands
But fate’s a thief it moves much too
fast
Dreams dissolve like breath on
Stained kissed glass.
Chorus
Bridge
And he sings a lullaby
so low
Soft as the falling falling
Angel snow
A father’s love is his sheltering
Wings of warmth
Even when the nights are
Broken broken and torn.
Verse 4
"Daddy I’m tired my chest feels
tight"
His voice is weak his skin much too
white
Stars above blur in his
sight
The world fades into endless
Endless cold night.
Partial Chorus
And the city turns
away
Like they never ever knew his
name
Still he lifts his boy so
close
Runs through streets…..to bring him
home.
Final Verse
He stumbles down an empty
street
The world is ice beneath his
feet
He kneels beside the frozen
City of stone
Whispers "Son… we’re finally
Finally home."
Chorus
Chorus 2nd Ending
Whispers / "Son
we're finally
home."
Outro
The snow drifts soft the
Sunday morning gray
No one stops and no one
Left to pray
Two souls lost in winter’s
hold
Together now, for-
ever and ever
In a City Frozen cold
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
Monet
Come with me, let us rekindle love –
walk with me over bridges aglow
while rivers magically glisten below.
If you hold my hand,
perhaps, we might spy a magpie
perched from a snowy sky and as night
stirs, then shifts from a full-swing soiree
into muted memories of still life,
I might fear darkness less
than when I am alone and adrift.
If you remember, the city lights
are more beautiful when it rains softly,
but a stormy night without you
takes me by surprise every time.
Tonight, let me be your Camille,
allow me to inspire the artist in you,
if for nothing more than conversation
or passionate admiration. You and I
can chase Pegasus, watch him gallop
across mystical skies in motion,
wings spanning our unabridged story
in unison till we flow into flaxen dawn
of illumination in golden-blues.
Are you only an impression of yesterday's
tearful adieu or more?
Without you, my melancholy song will rise
like smoke puffing from rooftop chimneys.
In an enlightened city, I hear music
from the spirited streets. It haunts me
and still intensifies my desire for love.
When you are gone, I can smile and even laugh
sometimes, but I cannot hide
the pale hues of sorrow in my eyes.
My Monet visions of sunrise awakened by
the warmth of your breath in whispers of morn
will dull to grays when again, you go away.
Tomorrow, I will be left to ponder
my worth, my suffering, my vulnerabilities,
all the colors of my world
while I chase shadows in the sun,
always searching for the perfect one –
a balance of light and dark,
of missing you too much and not enough.
Chase your dreams while I chase time,
infinite turmoil from a speared sky,
and days will remember to turn to night.
Even long after I die,
skies above us will dance in starlight
for someone else’s eyes. Until then,
the perfect shadow may be my own
next to yours, no matter the source of light.
But as I learn to pace footsteps alone,
reaching from a canvas brushed in strokes
of my own light, like stars,
I am loving you from afar.
Written 7/19/20
A cute gentile pig in New York
plays hopscotch over turtle hurdles
which eased her bunny
until a smack talking turkey announced,
'Did you hear how the skunks in bombay
lost a spelling bee - to an
artistic aardvark named clark?'
Around her, muttering mosquitoes
Dear teddy bear, my teddy bear
While a mynah bird confesses
to freeing an elephant
Who stands where dragons roam
dreaming of dinosaurs, as
King Doberman eavesdrops on
Seagulls talking to a sock monkey
Don't have a cow
The little red squirrel told my lioness-
Koalas love a cooling tang.
7/21/19
For 20 Titles from 20 Friends contest
Sponsor: Richard Lamoureux
A cute gentile pig in New York - Gershon Wolf
Turtle Hurdles - Mark Toney
Eased Her Bunny - Rico Leffanta
Smack Talking Turkey - Freddie Robinson Jr
Skunks in Bombay - Pat Adams
Spelling Bee - Line Gauthier
Artistic Aardvark named Clark - Caren Krutsinger
Muttering mosquitoes - sand blown
Dear teddy bear, my teddy bear - Connie Marcum Wong
A Mynah Bird Confesses - Kim Rodrigues
Freeing an Elephant - Suzanne Delany
Where Dragons Roam - P.S. Awtry
Dreaming of Dinosaurs - Jan Allison
King Doberman - Tania Kitchin
Seagulls Talking - Rhona Mcferran
Sock Monkey - Nina Parmenter
Don't Have a Cow - Alexis Y
The Little Red Squirrel - Pixie Dust
My Lioness - Anisha Dutta
Koalas Love a Cooling Tang - M.L. Kiser
The sun set peacefully
as I looked out towards
the distant red horizon
of the calm, oily sea.
A gentle breeze caressed me,
I stood on the edge of the beach
leaving imprints on the fine sand.
I loved this lonely beach,
the silence was broken softly
by the azure wavelets
that brushed the edge of the sand.
So much beauty and wonder
despite the darkness
that, like an old fog, descended
upon that peaceful part of earth.
I looked towards the sky
dotted with billowy clouds
that raced below the twinkling stars.
I wondered if my angel was up above,
looking down on me,
guarding me from my earthly woes.
What could I do without
my heavenly being of love?
I felt immense tranquillity,
the beach shrouded in peace
far away from the noisy cities
to which I would have to return.
The stars appeared: the evening star,
was it that heralded
the birth of my Creator?
It mattered not, for I was safe.
He was taking care of me.
I knew I'd never be forlorn.
Those days have passed.
Now I'm back home
among cold concrete blocks.
Yet in my heart is peace
for I can still hear
the gentle lapping of the sea waves
on the peaceful beach
that is my own.
They are walking! Walking, walking, walking!
Long stretches of walk - hundreds of miles of impossible uncertainty,
in blazing sun, in sweltering, muggy, heat - running away from an Inferno.
Home, sweet home! Villages with shady trees!
Destination!
Thirst, hunger, bleeding.
They trudge, fatigued babies hanging on their shoulders like sandbags,
starving infants clutching hands, tears dry on their cheeks.
Men and women - walk, walk, walk!
Leave cities where cruelty is the only language,
Villages with shady trees -
Home, sweet home, far away.
Burning sun, sweating bodies, dry throat, growling tummies.
Slog beside railroads - follow tracks,
no trains, no buses, no trucks, no vehicles,
only two weary feet to carry them to their destination,
plodding with all their might until the body can not move a step further.
Lie on the tracks - it’s hard, it’s cold, it’s comforting!
Come rest, come sleep, come death -
Blood-stained tracks-
Destination never came.
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 ~
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.
Santa hasn’t drunk cocoa tonight,
and he’s not dressed in red trimmed with white.
In blue denim so cool,
he is toasting the Yule
with a drink surely not mixed with Sprite!
Santa’s drink was a little too red,
and I think we have something to dread,
for he’s now in the sky
and he’s flying “too high”
as his sleigh widely veers overhead.
Had been use for the Humor Contest of Carol Eastman
* Slab City is a snowbird campsite in the Colorado Desert in southeastern California, used by recreational vehicle owners and squatters from across North America. East Jesus is part of its artistic community.
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
Of the Gods own country
of this paradise
where green and blue
merge as one
in the north is a city
that encompass the beauty
where the dream lands meet
lined by kaasaraka trees
where seven tongues are spoken
and a unique lingo was woken
lined by shores and calm beaches
which meets with forts of ancient elegance
who can pass by with no notice
the mountains high and hillocks of beauty
forests green and tranquil rivers
places of worship, unique structures
renowned for coir and handloom
and for its customs varied
The people here, with a smile of warmth
welcoming with open arms
known for their variety dishes
which does prick ones tastebuds
of the sense of fashion
who can beat their passion
and their thirst for knowledge
is to be acknowledged
fame it has know from times of yore
of the arts and culture it beholds
this is the city of budding talents
feel the vibe and do relent
© Nadiya(14 May '15)
*Chosen poem of the day on 16 May 2015
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.