Best Cityscapes Poems
We the People
Will disagree
On taxation and prosperity
On liberty and duty
We the People
Are every color of Christianity
Every Jewish prayer, every song of Islam
The puritans, the atheists and the Amish
Are neighbors here
We the People
Are Jamaican and Japanese
Swedish and Samoan
Cuban and Cherokee
Moroccan and Mexican
The Irish and the Inuit
And all shades of Africa
We are country hills and cityscapes
Suburban parks and downtown fire escapes
We are singers and stutterers
Daredevils and diplomats
Renegades and redeemers
The leaders and the lone wolves
The suits and the sarongs
We are the gun owners for gun control
The justice for unjust loopholes
We are the hands that struck the iron
And the backs that laid the tracks
Of trails of rails connecting
Sea to shining Sea
We are protesters and poets
The soldiers without peace
The nurses without sleep
We are the straight arrows and the skeptics
The gay and the god-fearing
We are Black Lives Matter
And we are the badges in blue
We the People
Are complicit and complicated
No freedom gave
To chains of slaves
We have conquered and colonized
Sacrificed and stolen
Pillaged and planted
To naturalize a nation
We are teachers of tenacity
Prophicies of pioneers
And the children of second chances
We the People
Speak for our land’s legacy
In every tongue, from every rung
On each stumbled stair, each crumbled chair
We demand democracy.
8/21/20
Poem of the Day
August 23, 2020
In the days of mystic Merlin and captivating Celtic lore
The Ancient Druids danced and exuberantly did explore
The Celtic Circles of cityscapes and festive furthermore
They gathered ritually round their sacred scenic stones
Like super Stonehenge sites of zodiacal zenithal zones
Within the Galic gates of the great universal unknowns
Celebrating the Summer Solstice of Natures living law
Through cosmic energy the Druid Duir of ancient awe
Of Celtic clans with sapiential symbols of a Shangri-La
The Celtic Cross still remains within our scintillant sight
Tuatha De Danann tribes of the gods of ritualistic rite
Their stories and teachings amalgamate in a Wizards night.
May.02.2017
YGGDRASIL ME - Contest
Sponsored by: White Wolf
Illustration by same poet...
Markers on white board...
The sundown shroud of evening fell
To settle on the city's wreck
Of buildings broke by wicked spell
Called by fate's destructive beck.
And from afar they saw the shapes
Stark, bleak against the red sunset
The ruined outlined cityscapes
Unknown misfortune met.
The country folk had little need
And rarely ventured to the smoke
But still they could not but take heed
And wonder how those buildings broke.
So, from afar they wondered at
What strange calamity befell
The city that had been so great
But what they couldn't tell
A strange flock from the west emerged
The sunset blooded red their fleece
Had some uncanny demiurge
A flock of demon sheep released?
But, no, they were just simple sheep
That somehow seemed to be astray
Unanswered though the questions creep
To where the flock had been that day
The strangest tales are oft untold
And sealed before the tale's begun
Since they had sneaked out from the fold
What dark deeds had those sheepies done?
In a world of chaos cascading, calamitous and crude,
Two birds in flight, amongst the vultures breeding brood...
They fly above majestic mountains and seductive cityscapes,
As they avoid predators with elusive elaborate escapes.
They then settle a while on bowing bending branches,
Against the wondrous wind and take comfort in their chances...
Their freedom finds them battling with the grinding grain,
With warring wounds as they fight and flutter to abstain.
The trusting trembling trees sustain a savory silent serene,
As they anxiously await their perching King and Queen...
Like the efficacious eloquent eagle and divine diving dove,
Two birds in passion, binding within their longing lasting love.
(((((Happy Spring Soupers)))))
May.11.2019
Epic Ethereal Poetry
Sponsored by: William Kekaula
Placed 10'th...Thank You
(Spanish poet Rafael Alberti was not happy
when his daughter became a Catholic nun:
here is his poem [translated] on the theme)
For you, I left my woodlands, secret groves,
my sleepless dogs, my exiled cityscapes.
For you, passed over all life’s sweetest grapes,
abandoned steepling cliffs and cool, dark coves.
I left behind a shiver, for your sake. And I left
the savage splendour of wild, untameable fire,
and left behind my shadow on the pyre,
and the hollow, bleeding eyes of the bereft.
I walked away from doves, sad by the water,
abandoned horses stamping on hot sand,
the welcome stinging breeze from off the brine.
For you, I gave up all was ever mine.
So give me, Rome, something at least as grand
as what I lost when I became your daughter.
Enter Bare
Nocturnal screams of voices beamed
Through sacrificial sacred skies
Insanity on a killing spree
With tears crusted crucified cries
On Angels wings flying thin
As the multitudes will divinely divide
Enter bare as we watch and stare
For the world has embraced genocide
Rubble rumbles as structures crumble
Lives are lost within a blink of an eye
Hell awakes as it violently shakes
The cityscapes of Gemini
Evil stays as it laughs and plays
For the demons scream and shout
There’s no escape from the sins of rape
The pain compounds and stingly sprouts
Soulful souls now empty holes
The battalions show their pride
Shall we avenge as we entrench
While the innocent do abide.
Sept.11.2016...^WW^
In Memory of 9/11
Remembering all the poeple that lost their lives...their families, their friends and all the Hero's that came to help...
...illustrated by Winged Warrior...
a flustered tango of Gypsy moths
drumming the porchlight; chalk artists;
the endemic disappearance of farms—silos lost
in unkempt fields; space stations; the sunlit-scent of lemon
oil on cherry wood; birth; the chasm between cultural
appropriation & cultural appreciation; the history in our dust;
loneliness & heartbreak; trivia; funky funerals;
climate change, hurricanes, earthquakes & neglected
victims; heirloom charm bracelets, homemade
wind chimes & the homing sound made by a singing bowl;
masquerade balls; cityscapes hidden in ant hills; fly
fishing; serendipitous skinny dipping; missing children,
teddy bear memorials, forensic identification, monsters
never found in sleepy towns; the horrors of zoos—
elephants gone mad, lions robbed of their pride;
book reviews; civil unrest, bad cops & good cops & young men
gunned down; brand new fire stations; cancer survivors who wear
baldness so beautifully; my favourite pair of jeans; river rocks
found by dearest hands; a letter that can never be
received; joyful celebrations; incandescent dragonfly
dreams; twenty million at risk of starving to death;
wildflowers shaking pretty little heads;
misogyny disguised as religion; forgotten veterans who die
a bit more inside every day; the rainforest, shrinking;
saintly stoners & postulant prostitutes; toxic smog;
madmen with warheads; cheese cake & ice wine;
every personalized Kama sutra move & the God-given
ecstasy of body on body language; holding hands;
why one giggle can change everything; Thanksgiving
prayers; abandoned minefields, boy soldiers & devastating
amputations; the songs of the working poor; lightning
over the lake; his timely phone calls; brotherhood & sisterhood;
love in its every form; old maps; twenty-one gun salutes;
the extinction of the Galapagos Giant Tortoise; being
five, being twenty five, being ninety-five; kites; dogs chawing
on ragged rawhide; church-like museums on a Sunday
afternoon; make-shift picnics; deja vu; thrift store
wedding dresses; long drives with comfortable silences;
fading freedoms; censorship; seamless moonlight;
introspective dalliances with self-acceptance; the power
of purpose; how to be the bigger person; how to go
in a new direction; how to rise above . . .
The most beautiful birthplace? Why, Donegal of course.
Having travelled the world, I have no remorse,
at returning home.
Summer sunshine? I go and explore.
Sea with a sheen of blue. Forty shades of green.
Forest, mountain, stream.
All alone I meander, leaving footprints in the sand.
As if I am Eve, in a magical mystical land.
Searching for Adam.
Back roads with hedgerows, brushing against my car.
Like I had gone too far. Sheep obstructing my way.
Black one in the middle.
Old local on his fiddle, at end of day, in random pub.
Lost in his repertoire. Still I am not far
from my own hearth.
I wish the peace it gives me to all in cityscapes.
Thank God I escaped, back to Ireland and
my kith and kin.
Finding love within.
A semi baked semi colon is neither a seminar nor a seminary session. It is in fact the whirr of wheels from the large overweight apostrophe on a bike. Uphill downhill and all around the picturesque towns, villages and hamlets but not cities for cityscapes' are carnivorous and carnivores can charm even a chalice from a wagon if and when sealed with the juice of a steak. Well oiled grease test then. All in line. Good. Garages grab greenery giving great galloping geraniums. On the phone now are we? Oh good afternoon. Good morning. Good evening. But never a good night in a customer query box ticked. Tickle a ticket to induce laughter. In many many rides on a bus or a train a mandatory mane maneuvers managing mere mobile movements. And always remember that the globetrotting goldfish in the wicker hat can sing mist loudly to a cone. Hahaha Kyu k pass hai saja hai mekhana and a fried onion belches to a melted cheese. *** geomorphologic Z
Deserted financial centre
Ghost town after dark;
Weekend constellations
~~~~~~~~~
Blank myth created
To express a fond wish;
Merlion antiquity
~~~~~~~~~
Old neighbour nods
Smiles in recognition;
Civilised exchange
~~~~~~~~~
Sing-song Good Morning
Little boy entertains;
Proud parent smiles approval
~~~~~~~~~
New journal pages
Awaiting sanguine soliloquy;
Expansive permutations
~~~~~~~~~
Words on a page
Taut revelations;
Insider trading conspires
~~~~~~~~~
Psalm of morning hues
Sunburst meditation;
Light speed aura
~~~~~~~~~
Evening sitcom moments
Scripted melodrama;
Favourite dinner fare
~~~~~~~~~
Poignant sad story
Tear-jerker streaking away;
Pending reconciliation
~~~~~~~~~
By this desk
Lyrics in verse align;
Exfoliated outbursts
~~~~~~~~~
Uncomfortable stress
Chasing that and this;
Organised unease
~~~~~~~~~
Yesterday retires
Today an offering;
Tomorrow perhaps
~~~~~~~~~
Style a fond smile
Sanguine as usual;
Clash of surprise
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
04 November 2014
Singapore
Arsenals of axes brought by the crate
Pedals increasing experimental
Trashy dissections of raw cityscapes
NYC rockers gone transcendental
Static blasts shredding the off-key high pings
Maracas hit toms to keep structured pace
Drum sticks wedged under alternate tunings
Meted by contrasting booms of the bass
Dissonance anteed raises the ceiling
Shaping sound by analog disruption
Searching/defining an urban feeling
Stark layers of beautiful corruption
Sweet ballads sung without being pretty
Growls and screams about something gritty
Early morning agenda
Buzz of Monday surprise;
Ordinary work day styles
~~~~~~~~~
Crowds congregate
Train station congestion;
Sea of mobile handsets
~~~~~~~~~
Heartland playground
Toddlers re-invent playtime;
Happy commotions
~~~~~~~~~
Sea of blank faces
Each a fine story;
Checkmate situation
~~~~~~~~~
Odd one out
Smiling old uncle;
Good morning sunshine
~~~~~~~~~
Muted cacophony
Three old ladies talk;
Hypermart bargains
~~~~~~~~~
Headline news screams
Another war somewhere;
Quirky exhortations
~~~~~~~~~
Obituary page today
Sample faces gone away;
Passage to a new world
~~~~~~~~~
So much sadness here
Suffering outbursts implode;
Quiet desperation
~~~~~~~~~
Neighbourhood police visit
House call noise complaint;
Seeking autographs
~~~~~~~~~
Bougainvillea outburst
Maroon, orange, pink, violet;
Shades of heated arguments
~~~~~~~~~
Rain clears hazy outlines
Skyline now crystal clear;
Original apparitions
~~~~~~~~~
Listen now and hear
Crickets melodrama;
Nightfall by city fringes
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
03 November 2014
Singapore
visions of atmosphere
scattered illuminate
faintly lid, the world is blear
the latitude of nighttime sky
flaunts itself on a silhouette pier
evening gives up to nautical dusk
sightings of air on skin are brusk
still there’s a residue
of eerie mystic hue
covering wet rocks
lighthouses through and through
deserted cityscapes
queues of sea mews
moments of magic
making the time subdue
moments of faraway
mists tinged gold and blue
June conspires
Sun and rain and wind;
Equatorial somnolence
Ways and means
Cluster of conflicts;
Confront life's business
Down winding roads
Cityscapes retreat;
Highrise dwellings clutter
Bus ride to nowhere
New estates emerge;
Road map carbon copy
News flash and highlights
Routine monotony presides;
Celebrate gratitude then
Order in sure fashion
Odd ball roller coaster;
Jolly simplicity
Next year's birthday thoughts:
Celebrate 50 years --
City-state nation
Forged from uncertainty
Precarious transit pains;
Here we are now
Ageing population
New age crisis;
Opportune reminders
The years have been kind
To one and all here;
Confront crises head-on
No need for complaints
There is only one way;
Move forward always
Attitude counts
Work on your gripes;
Excellence takes effort
All in due time
Evidence speaks sharp;
Discern lessons well
Talk feels empty
Do it with aplomb;
Results surmount obstacles
We start, we end --
Let gratitude mindset
Frame sure attitude
Despite constraints
We get along;
Common courtesy works
There is no other place
Beyond our fringes;
Here ample lots farm
A cityscape where
We co-mingle, interact;
Live a common agenda
Home is where
Heart lives sure spark;
Touch weaves new songs
Leon Enriquez
04 June 2014
Singapore
I kissed my little rainbow goodbye today
yet I could not hide my tears
for in my heart I begged her to stay
but she just had to go away
so very far away, across the countryside.
Her light blue eyes were innocent and pure
she did not understand my sad tears
or the dreams I had, of time, of years
when I thought she would be ever near
so very near to me.
Will I ever understand their chosen path
from carefree days and endless skies
to crowded streets and cityscapes
as they take these precious babes away
to such a different life?
And oh, so many miles, with no one in between
the ache of loss, the pain within my heart
for the dream is gone
it is time for my sweet little rainbow
to fly away from me.
Yet, someday I will see my little rainbow again
for I will always hope, as I temper my reality
and though I may see her only now and again
I will celebrate our times together
and be happy, for her sake
for in those times, we will make
new memories
and happy rainbows, together.
11/1/2021