Best Metropolis Poems
Tower, buzz and scurry
Oh great resilient city
Ahoy!
Alive. Scramble bustle earth's
ethnicities
On lurid quests--
A pendulum of tantric turmoil and
Blessed harmony
Quixotic city--brash,
Sangfroid merotomized and
Chrematistic--metro nonpareil.
See a myriad melange of
Tortured splenetic
Souls and great spirits
Noble and soothfast
Great city, your hecatombs
Of underground trains
Roar scream in
Hodge-podge graffiti attire
Fat fuming brattling buses
Grunt their huffpuffs,
And nervous cars scissorcut
Impatiently betwixt tarred and
Cemented streets
August and capacious
Ferruminated grey glass and steel
Towers--Aeeries in obeisance to the
Heavens, erupt in anabasis at the azure
Pearly welkin,
Humming diapasons of marvelous
Melismatic tunes
A gallimaufry of cacaphony and
Sweet sounds--the
Great Metropolis persistently
Thrives.
Streets adorned with sylph fashion
Models, conute churls, street
recrement--dazed and forgotten men,
Enticing shuck and jive
Blandishing street vendors,
Natty brujo business gentry
With their helotry on a
Ferris wheel of daily
Triumphs and defeats and
Cheeky mendicants
Shuffle along allegro vivace
Howling chorus songs amidst a
Torrent of raining dollars and
Coins floating in the skies over
The brazen metropolis.
Snuffling restaurants like hives
Humbuzz the grandiloquence,
Pithy slang and sententious
Persiflage of the day.
A truly syncratic parley
Of passions sentient
Of crimes basilic
Of arts sacerdotal and gratuitous
Of fashions arabesque and outre
Of plays frivolous and profound
Of music sericeous and truculent
Of money pursuits solonic
Of loves ascendant and descentdant
Of rejections mournful and joyous
An e'er persisting cha-cha-cha and
Boogie-woogie of the fierce
Bustling bubbling bold city,
Pendulumming pandaemoniums and
Resolutions, day
Upon pertinatious day.
David John Hart 2003 USA
Autos race by as bicyclists
dodge destruction
amidst the heavy traffic
Millions of urban workers
hurry back from lunch
shielding themselves
from the bitter city winds
which are blowing fiercely
this afternoon
Then - someone has a vision
here in the heart
of the teeming city!
She feels the presence
of the one who dwells beyond
before whom there is no pretense
She knows ecstasy
usually reserved for
the holiest of men and women
An unusual occurrence
in the metropolis
She knows now
what she has been waiting for
for her whole life
Urban joy!!
I wish it to everyone reading this poem!
Lost in an urban jungle...
Cannot see the gates to their soul
-to those metallic animals roaming
towards a fictitious destination...
A seagull disoriented
by skyscrapers' blue reflections
The ocean breeze is calling
The upwards is the only escape
Wings heavy with heat and smog
Slap Fate with willpower – mine
I will have to play the "Jungle Game" for now
So they won't steal my take off...
copyright@Iolandascripca2013
There survives a burg, strangled by,
A fume as thick as thieves,
Where soaring glass stalagmites screen,
The adroit aggrieved.
Skyscrapers and broad avenues,
Where vast trains shunt and squall,
Where soaring glass stalagmites screen,
The vestige’s caterwaul.
Where night tide is perennial,
The gargoyles chill and ward,
Aged curves and finials resist,
Thick gnarling walls contort.
Form:
The monopoly metropolis, o'er the mass.
The sun has set 'pon the great pass.
All for one and none for all,
the old grey miser throws a ball;
...no peasants allowed.
Form:
Spent some time
in the country
Forest full of trees,
lakes full of fish
Deer walking by
as hawks hover overhead
Contemplating nature
has its rewards
But now it is time
to return to the metropolis
Crowded streets,
people rushing by
Skyscrapers stand tall
in the summer air
Taxis whizz by
as bicyclists weave in and out of traffic
Beautifully dressed women
and elegant men
dot the urban landscape
In the playground kids play handball
and bounce basketballs
I have returned to the asphalt homeland
where I belong!
A nick on a lamppost,
a curtain tears.
Crushed pieces of glass,
are what this lane of memory bears
This story is like most,
there is joy, there is pain.
Good times, bad times,
a part of history it became.
A time of segregation,
one side black, one side white.
Which could only lead to destruction,
over the course of two nights.
A town that grew and prospered,
when no one thought it would.
As it became a city of industry,
oppression, racism, hatred it withstood.
The ambition to succeed,
to adapt and overcome.
Like all oppressed people
joined together as one.
Although some stood together,
both white and black.
In the end it would not withstand,
hatred’s ignorant attacks.
It is the story of Black Wall Street,
Tulsa to be exact.
How an oppressed people overcame,
how they were able to adapt.
Let us learn from our mistakes,
and not forget the bloodshed in these streets.
So that racism, ignorance and hatred.
do not become things in which we are doomed to repeat.
Co written by: Cilque Brown
Early to rise
late to lay,
business minded people
who barely slay;
best of friends with traffic
who make their day.
Clicking show glasses of Ghana bons
with schoolers ready to buy;
Athletic traffic sellers who could
catch up a bus at 120
A metropolis
coloured with yellow molue and danfo buses
whose drivers are as audacious as the day;
chain smokers with throaty voices
impatient with co-commuters
when they cry "Mile2 Mile2!"
Energetic touts with special anthem
"owo mi da?"
Grubby fighters in yellow
ready to engage any fellow.
Happy market women in their sizes
buying and selling in faded wrappers
in loud cries of "langbe jinó o"
and hilarious children replying "I get belle o!"
Impatient road users in their dusty trekker shoes,
almost bumping into one-way bikers
who would often holler "oloriburuku oshi!"
Loud jaiye jaiye gbedu
with dragging notes
from roadside DJs
who are live for the party
and on Saturdays for the couples
A city with anaconda queues at banks
with sweaty odours from co-standers.
Konfam Okokomaiko pikin
#CeeJay
#BusyPenPoetry
This Empire of Strangers,
This City of Drifters,
A sea of people bobbing about-
Some new, some old, some
Somewhat familiar.
Every night, we dream together,
But our dreams differ;
Everyday, we work together,
Yet never with each other.
And though we dine in the same places
And smile and greet from time to time,
We are all in truth worlds apart.
Lost in our own thoughts and worries,
We're all lonely in crowded company.
The demons and ghosts
of last night
have faded with the morning light
A nice crisp day
here in the metropolis
Sun streaming in
through my window
A new day filled
with possibilities
I take out a pen
and write this ode
The midsummer heat
has faded
Now, city dwellers
can enjoy the fall
The High Holidays, football and
Halloween coming up
Autumn leaves dance downward
onto the pavement
A brief respite
before winter chill
enters our very bones!
She walks ancient canyons
twisted steel monolithic spires.
Racing high her memory clouded
gray sky leadened in pain.
Like someone quietly loosen their hair
Let storms gather along a deserted plain, bring…
How her hands clutches as lightning gathers
Like ravens at a murder, sing…
she rises to meet the rain
From the cold steel day
Light delays in the canyons
of a cold iron metropolis
Metropolis…!
My cousin, Metropolis is jealous of me,
Megalopolis said, at the company tea.
I have more people,
But she has more sprawl.
I think we’ll fix this today.
I have put in a call.
They settled it fast.
They settled it quickly.
Metropolis and Megapolis,
Cousins, comrades, friends,
Settled it smartly and slickly.
And Megalopolis learned there is a lot more hurt
When you bring up in public your family’s dirt.
Lights in the Metroplois(revised version)
As citizens cross
wide boulevards
city lights
dance on the pavement
Ethereal landscape
Created by the
shining lights
speaks to us in it's
own special language
doesn't seem quite right
that all those glowing bulbs
are changing peaceful darkness
into a garish illuminated
landscape
But after a few years
city dweller know the scene
You see - they live here
in this turbulent metropolis
where yearning hearts
have come from many lands
to prosper
If you don't lose your head here
You'll find a slice
of the urban pie
is waiting for you
in the heart of
this temple to humnan
ingenuity
You'll feel much better
after you partake
of the gritty flavor
our city has to offer
First version published in Nomad's Choir
Form:
Run in time to the rhythm
and rage of the metronome grace.
Masses match, I see her fall in time.
Framed in thoughts of rain.
Down she tumbles down
her face frozen in the hall,
I see it all As the shadows wash in.
I feel my fury bury deep
In a nation of dreams broken
In a sea of stone towers.
Fueled by Mechanical Beasts.
Gilded in ancient chrome.
I wage my inner souls gold and rage
to heavens realm to ask why.
I shake the foundations of an artificial iron hell
And cry why, I see this clear
As the world blurs
Ask the lighting rods to heaven race.
My gaze scans across
This sacred power I bleed I quietly plead with
theses monstrosities
I reach and dream as something turns in this city heart
Souls oiled black mechanical parts
Cold is this artificial light
A thorn pricking my tender optics
Burn with faded images of her
I stand and see these monoliths
looming in deep shadowed gloom
I feel the cold of the obelisk
I feel the
thump
and hmmm
Of
This
METROPOLIS!
END
Through the window, I gaze.
Onto a tangled Dead Sea of black towers,
In this manmade night I see you there.
In the silhouette of the dreams and electron streams.
The city sores before me, break like thunder upon these optics.
I focus on the horizons jagged steel and monolithic gears.
Blurred my vision seared, Cold light falls, The city crawls.
Thump and hum, My vision sears, Cold light falls.
And the city crawls, Thump, rattle, and hum.
The steady beat of a city in chaos.
Of immortal work, I see her in passing glances.
Hot intricate stares. They tread daily to and from work. The city masses march in time to the metronome.
A Void built under this glass dome.
All light is cold and harsh in these hard eyes.
The work of the machines grinds steadily on. I watch the helicons fly!
Thump and hum, I see it clear. Order in a sea of chaos.
Delicate light in the darkest shadow. Amidst the mechanical heart, fears.
Feel the cold of rain white light. Eyes blind. I hear her sound. I feel her warmth. Blur in the electron stream. Of data and machine parts. Still in my heart, eyes of once clear blue sky. Now only frozen ice. They are of cold white light. Her face pure innocence. I watch the OIL run in stark contrast.
To her alabaster skin I trace the clear path. I taste the hidden sin.
My head pulses in time to the metronome,
Her smell is soft intricate,
I wonder at her passing.
TO BE CONTINUED...