Best City Life Poems
They cling, these city dwellers,
to crannied city walls
dusted with the exhaled indifference
of a blindly passing world.
Gasping in the fetid urban exhale
longing for the touch of errant bee.
Escapees of discarded flower pots
surviving on sporadic a/c drips
stretch to catch a glimpse of sunrise.
Rooted in their dreams of being free.
2/18/2020
Come, walk with me in this early dawn
while the darkness fades in solitude
As first light appears, and moon drifts on
we will drink in the quiet interlude
Wet blankets of fog will lift away
wearing soft slippers of slow retreat
We'll greet early risers starting the day
drink fresh brewed coffee, and stroll the streets
The beat, the strand of sidewalk noise
Gains timbre as the traffic mocks
Once more the world regards it's toys
Of cars, and horns, and ticking clocks
Before the bustling city quakes
Let's stroll before the monster wakes
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6/18/16
For Contest: Sounds of the Day
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
If throughout the city you are a roamer,
you will see the word "civilization" is a misnomer.
It looks like a city, but it's a jungle out there.
When walking down the streets, one must take extra care.
There are liars, cheats, and crooks galore.
Nothing has changed. It's the same as before.
What does it take to make a right from a wrong?
Citizens must be street smart and strong.
inspired by another member's poem
Inner cities churn like a dark raging sea
Where fear stalks the rusty broken unchained door
where people wear masks of hunger plastered to skulls
they walk the cold cracked sidewalks of bewildering darkness
and never languish around the corners of shadowed evil
where heat from the streets rise like squirming dragons
as cars packed like rats pass men selling drugs
to the forgotten, some who sleep in wet cardboard boxes
surrounded by shattered glass and tossed empty cans
that lay scattered in the alley's where death moans
despair comes to steal
even the hopelessness held
leaving nothing to be found
in their empty hand
as it becomes a clenched fist
to a world, that doesn't care
10/9/21 contest Let's Mix it Up-"Life"
sponsor Constance La France
its tin metal somewhat mangled
from a moving van that fetched impairment
twisted signage of thin charm
tinged with seasonal blues
battered by brash snow, ice pellets, sombre rain
below a street lamp that nightly courts white moths
in fluttered fury
lofty sign, a perch for sparrows shaking off dust
above the humming hiss of a street
that throbs in summer heat
above the unfurling laughter of children
skipping rope
above the tangled banter of neighbors
who amble home,
pulled by comfort's zone
script of certainty, location defined
by a battered street sign, it's endless gaze
that knows the rhythm and pitch
of life laboring
below
Written July 25, 2021
We see in the country, in Portsall,
things that you don’t see in the city,
A pastry chef who smiles kindly,
A farmer who parks his tractor on the side,
We see polite people like Belgians,
People listening to the bees work,
Trees are seen learning to count,
Churches that ring the morning hours,
We see beautiful things in the country,
Things that you don’t see in the city,
People saying hello to you at the bakery,
People watching the snails think,
You see people looking at you like birds,
Writers wearing pink hats,
Who drank tequila with their chicken breast,
Houses where people will be nice,
We see in the country, on the side of Portsall
Things that you don’t see in the city,
The city often I fear, makes people evil,
We see large houses painted pink or yellow
Which make you think of Sicily or Tuscany.
Well, I moved into town to live like a city slicker,
Loaded my truck, found a place, and here I am,
Though a country boy has a head a bit thicker,
City life is not so hard to understand,
And I've been learnin' how to use a computor,
How to do some picture takin' with a cell phone,
How to get insurance for my truck and motor scooter,
But city life is nothing like back home,
Because where I come from, they call it the boonies,
Dirt roads, back woods, life as country as can be,
Though now I'm mixed in with all the town loonies,
They'll never take the country out of me,
Yea, I can still plant me a nice little garden,
Though not nearly as big as it use to be,
And still listen to country music, Dolly Parton,
She's on my coffee mug for all to see,
And I still get to do some dear huntin'
For those split tails runnin' 'round here,
And I make sure to keep my truck tuned and runnin'
By way of Auto Zone, or I'd run out of beer,
Yea, I livin' in the hood, straight from the boonies,
It's great be an American and free,
Though I'm mixed in good with all the town loonies,
They'll never take the country out of me,
Yea, I moved into town to live like a city slicker,
And I'm doin' the best that I can...
I can drive by Churchill Downs and hear the horses nicker,
I'm just a country boy with a city slicker plan,
I can drive by Churchill Downs and hear the horses nicker,
I'm still a country boy, yea, that's who I am,
Though a country boy has a head a bit thicker,
City life is not so hard to understand.
The Skyscrapers are so high; they seem to pierce the cerulean sky
Transpired by all those neon lights
So many have succumb to the city’s plight
People are distraught by the polluted stench of death in the air
Murder rate ever-increasing; does anyone care?
Concrete high rises and towering buildings form a ghetto
A utopia of poverty where drug addiction has control
The name of the forgotten enshrined by graffiti on the walls
A place where personality and pride stands tall
Cornered lives where fast money is the name of the game
A con, a player, and a hustler is still one in the same
On every street corner there is a church, a carryout, or a bar
A city that’s besieged by police brutality that has gone too far
Sedans and SUV's windows rattle from the loud deep-toned songs of Hip hop
The sound carries for avenues and blocks nonstop around the clock
The city never sleeps, so the crime never stops
Because there are criminal infested streets, policed by even belligerent cops
Weed smoke fumes subtlety filling so many lungs
The futile hum of engines at traffic lights becomes the city song
In this place of indignity there would be no pity
Welcome to SIN CITY
Looking out onto to the glare off the streets, it almost appears as if the asphalt were a
sheet of glass, as the rain pours down on the street. I see them but they hardly even
notice me. Another cold winter has come and gone for me, life in this Big City ain’t for
the weak. They look at me as if I was some kind of freak, as I bundle trying to keep
warm inside my filth laden sheets…I sometimes can’t remember the last hot meal I did
happen to eat. As I dig through a dumpster in the alley behind some old fancy
restaurant whose name I can’t even pronounce. A fifth grade education, if even that…I
see them, but they rarely ever see me. Lost here in the Big City this ain’t no place for a
country born boy to be…yet I see them, but they rarely see me. My bones ache and
sometimes I can hardly see, no refuge from the hot summer’s day heat…Look at them
all riding around in their air conditions cars with the music blasted so loud, I see them
but they rarely see me. Don’t pay me any mind. I ain’t mad at this old world or even
God… just upset with myself because I let the Big City life capture me and still my
youth. Still do what you always do when it comes to someone like me? Stare off at
someone else and just pretend as though you don’t see me standing here, just asking
for some help. Yes, look away…because no matter what you do? I still see you.
The loo enters during summers,
The chill penetrates in the winters
The ceiling leaks during monsoons,
The mosquitoes sting like harpoons
Came to the city with many dreams
From the lands of plains, valleys & streams
Came to the city, to earn a living, with wishes
The mirage of untold, unforeseen riches
(The City) Pulled them into its greedy claws,
Hiding it’s own weaknesses, it’s flaws
What have they become here, now?
Forced to make their heads bow,
As a driver, sweeper or domestic help
Confined to their lowly class, like a slave’s whelp
Ridiculed, raped, beaten, manipulated
Was it in their fate, to be cheated?
Were they not happy, in their valleys, their farms?
What drove them to the city, in great swarms?
Will they ever go back, escape?
Or will the city life forever hold them agape?
Form:
People walking head down staring into their cell phones
In pairs or all alone
Children pushing their children in buggies and prams
Traffic wardens and traffic jams
Zombies trying to walk through you with masses of shopping bags
Gangs of girls gangs of lads
Shop window displays to entice
Everything from ladies knickers
Toys and carving knifes
Shoppers sat in fish tanks having tea
Long queues at the bakery
Pregnant girls in tight fitting skimpy clothes
People with tattoos and rings through their nose
Police officers out for a gentle walk on a summers day
While the robbers elsewhere make a clean get away
Unruly children screaming
Clouds of choking cigarette smoke
People laughing telling jokes
Shoppers taking a rest on a bench
Old men staring at young wench
A busker playing the same song over and over on guitar
For pennies hoping someone passing
Will make them a star
Street vendor vultures prey on the unaware
''Have you had an accident''? money signs in their eyes
Bad accident they don't care
Gangs of people stood in shop doorways
So you can't get in
Lads like me trying to impress the girls
and holding our beer bellies in
Bargain here bargain there
This weeks special offer managers special
A broken chair
Knuckle dragger unshaven smelly men
With model looking babes how on earth do they get them?
Free passes to the gym if you're fat we''ll make you slim
Bumping into people that you know
Hows uncle Howard and his poorly toe
A glimpse of life on a weekend in town
Don't miss a bargain get on down.
Peter Dome.Copyright.2015.May.
No more stars
Bright lights in the street
Gives eyes a hurt.
Market stall sellers, spewing out cheap tat, for bargain hunting peabrains parting with their cash; items disintegrating from one single use.
City traders impress with tall tales of the day, lapping up each others crap enjoying it's scent and taste; not caring for the common man whose lives they have wrecked.
Office workers looking grey, another mundane day. Sitting at their desks, day-dreaming of a different life while listening to bosses drivel on about deadlines.
Shop workers getting by, mastering people skills, satisfying customers; some are born to please but for others it's just painful.
Buskers playing tunes, some are good, some are not. They enjoy what they do, even to an audience unattentive to the soundtrack of their day.
Beggars in doorways trying to prise money from our wallets but who are the genuine needy? Alcoholics, drug addicts or rich Romanian gangs who treat it as a living.
Cyclists whizz past, jumping the red lights. An obstacle for pedestrians and motorists alike; two wheeled accidents waiting to happen.
Motorists zoom past at speed with arrogance and aggression; the survivors way to driving through city streets. A combination with potential for fatal consequences.
Some walk through the streets, head down, oblivious to all around, focusing on getting to their destination. Others soak it all in; buskers, coffee shops, the bustle of life.
If you're in the city, enjoy the city, even with the smog. Life's too short to be annoyed with the things that irritate us. Embrace what's on offer but accept you'll be ripped off!
The lights in the city at night are warm and inviting
Harboring seasonal influence through the core of its being
They swarm with a great brilliance of an orange and red glow
Russell Sivey
Oh God,
The entanglements and complexities
Of our worldly earth
Are overwhelming.
Sometimes its beauty and goodness
Are strangled and hampered
By the webs of civilization.
But most of the time
Your splendor survives
And shines through strongly
Despite the barriers,
For those who want to see and feel
And appreciate.
Grant that we,
Caught in the traps of materialism,
May realize
That we too are rooted
On the earth,
Which was created by your love;
So that we may have the strength
To persevere, and grow and flourish
Despite the entrapments and burdens
Of our times,
To be able to share in and reflect
The beauty and peace in the world,
And the goodness and love
Of You.
November 24, 2015
Premiere Contest: Inspirational Christian Poetry
Sponsor: Regina McIntosch