Best Ny Poems
Ten mile peninsula in Queens, N.Y.,
nighttime jetties of moonlight white caps,
waves rising and ebbing.
My grandfather walking with me on the
daylight shore so many summers ago.
My dreams of Rockaway unfaded.
Watched the WTC twin towers being built
through binoculars.
Rockaway, in my soul's nostalgia
you still beckon.
Salted lips quenched by Coca-Cola.
The youth within me can still hear
the seagulls calling in the breeze,
and still see the amusement park
under 4th of July fireworks.
Dada, I miss you and Rockaway.
Categories:
ny, 7th grade, 8th grade,
Form:
Free verse
The wind laughs softly
The full moon with the stars
In the sky,
As I lie near the fountain
Gazing at the
Exquisite beauty
Of the nature.
It's the charm of the moon
Opens so many thoughts
And dreams.
The moon
Looks like a beautiful
Ballerina
Dancing with the troop of
The professional stars.
Twisting carelessly with the
Elegance of a swan
Through the lilac beauty
Of the spring time.
The sky seems a bandanna.
A dewy freshness
Fills my heart and soul.
How beautiful is the night,
I captivated, enchanted.
Oh! Gealach,
ben reine ny hoie.
_________________________
"Gealach" means......Brightness,
"ben reine ny hoie" means.....Queen of the night.
The language of the Isle of Man.
_________________________
The moon and the moon poetry
in general seems to dispel the
human centredness that we all
suffer from.
Thank you for reading.
Chitta.
Categories:
ny, nature, moon,
Form:
Prose Poetry
I come from the borough of Queens, New York
My classmates call me a Klutz and a dork
Those names pervaded my soul, taking a toll
Being at the bottom of the totem pole.
Then Dad took me to the town of Tortilla Flat
I walked into a store, bought a ten-gallon hat
I started talking like John Wayne, also bought some boots
It’s funny how a costume can make a mind slip its roots
The ranchers nodded with respect; I looked like them
Cowgirls smiled in my direction, one shone like a gem
She said there’s a rodeo at half past three
Come join us there, my friends and me.
I said sure, I’ll mosey down there
I’ll bring some popcorn that we all can share
When the time came, I walked into the ring
But through the wrong door, that was the thing.
Two guys lifted me onto a horse, and opened the gate
I shouted, “I’m not a performer!” but it was too late
The horse bolted out, then tried a somersault
I held on for dear life, couldn’t them girls call a halt?
They told me later, t’was the worst horse in the west
I flew over its mane, but it was a personal best
The crowd went wild, but I threw the hat on the mud
Dropped all the popcorn, wiped off the blood
The cowgirl looked adoring, said “that was so cool”
I looked at her, but my mood was cruel
Said “I’m a nerd from Queens, don’t want to pretend
Keep that dang hat, this all got to end."
Dad took me home, the worse for wear
He got me a baseball hat so nobody would stare.
I put it on backwards, I don’t really care
Buy the wrong hat, and it’s dangerous out there.
Categories:
ny, environment, girlfriend, humor, pride,
Form:
Lyric
Devotion Poem. Dancing Dream
(Dedicated to my husband Jim, with love)
Like a story’s narrator, I cannot see myself
In life nor in dreams, nor in memories where
My recollection of you comes first
Of your eyes, which I have
Absolutely memorized, especially
All their glistening smiles,
When they look fixed to my own, bringing
Your heart into mine, committed in love,
Creating song where none sang
In the empty minutes just before.
It is the sensing through touch that I treasure,
More than the seeing.
So again, as through all my memories:
Reach with your hands;
Offer your arm; lean in with your chest;
Set your head upon my shoulder
As you speak — with the voice
I’ve always adored — to again say,
“I love you,” just as you did this morning
In the dream that woke me:
I was dancing my ballet for you.
How amazing it was! You even coached
Over the passion of the dance
And the music, until it stopped.
You came to me. Tired, I leaned back
Against your chest, the crown of my head
Fitting straight under your chin.
I did not see me. I did not see you.
But I could feel, yes, feel the motion
Of your chest as you breathed, and
Feel the warmth of your body, your
Chest, firm against my back...
So, I was surprised when I woke
And you were not there. And I was here,
Not having danced the ballet at all,
But, yes, still fully, completely feeling
The warmth from leaning against you.
Your warmth from life,
From memory,
Re-lived in a dream.
*******. ********. ********. *******
(C) sally Young eslinger 12/19/2020
Thanks be toGod
Categories:
ny, dream, feelings, love, memory,
Form:
Free verse
Now I see
that
World Series time
has arrived
Seems to me that something
is missing there
The NY Mets
aren't in it
As a fan from their inception
I remember Mr. Stengel and Art Shamsky(Another Jewish Ballplayer - great)
Kranepool - who never quite lived up to his potential
but made a stout try at first
Banner day - a lot of fun
Holding up a sparkle strewn "We love the Mets" sign
After Ebbets Field
After Shea Stadium
there is now Citifield
Where the New York Metropolitans will
will take over the green fields
Onward O Metropolitans
Your multitude of fans
await your entrance
As spring comes
around again
It brings the scent of flowers
and a thousand, thousand fans - a great multitude
Hoping and praying
for a victorious season
Categories:
ny, baseball,
Form:
Blank verse
New York, New York, the road in the fork
of the events, the places and folks who've buttered the pork
Like Rockefeller, Moynihan and Andrew Cuomo
Frank Sinatra, Louie Armstrong, John Lenon and Yoko Ono
Lenny Bernstein and Lenny Bruce
Cookie Monster, Rocky and Bullwinkle Moose
There's Radio City, Central Park and Carnegie Hall
Coney Island, Yankee Stadium -- Let's Play Ball!
The Brooklyn Bridge on the Hudson River
Lower East Side and the Village, for swingin' livers
Babe Ruth, Mickey Mantle and White Ford
Don't forget Casey Stengel and Yogi Berra -- Oh, my Lord!
Marilyn Monroe, Madonna and Phyllis Diller in curlers
Archie Bunker, the Meathead, Anne Meara and Jerry Stiller
Stooge-mania, West Side Story and Annie Hall
Kramden, Norton and the Honeymooners
You've seen or heard of 'em all
There's Madison Square Garden and the NY Philharmonic
The Times and Wall Street Journal -- news junkies tonics
Malcolm X, Dr. King, and Abe Saperstein
Julius Erving / Dr. J with a case of Afro-sheen
Baldies like Kojac and Yul Brynner, the King of Siam
Sam I Am, Son of Sam, Green Eggs and Ham
Harlem Globetrotters, the Apollo, Kareem Abdul Jabbar
Jay Leno, Ed McMahon and Johnny Carson, the great Jack Paar
There's Broadway, Times Square, Soho and Fifth Avenue
Isaac Stern, Pavoratti, Willie Nelson and Ray Charles singin' the blues ...
Make a list from the Statue of Liberty all the way up to Mars
~ You still might leave out a legacy of constellations and stars!
Categories:
ny, film, music, new york,
Form:
Rhyme
Mineral Baths Saratoga Springs NY
She covers her private
parts at the bath house.
Mineral water fills a tub,
centuries old.
She feels cold until
an old Women hands
her heated sheets...
now, her skin covered.
Brought her clips to lift
her auburn hair.
The sheets cooled as the
tub, now filled.
A stray cat
peers into the window...
purrs, kissing glass.
The old Women
removes the sheet, takes
the hand of a young lady
as she carefully
steps into aged porcelain.
Tiny bubbles
surround her skin.
A soft pillow for her head...
Now, relax. . . she tells herself,
dreaming of the
cat kissing glass. . .
alone, at last.
Nancy Duci Denofio
Categories:
ny, animals, health, introspection, life,
Form:
Narrative
Lancaster, New York
Mid-west town of the East where neighbors are friends and friends are family!
Written 10.04.2016
Categories:
ny, home,
Form:
Monoku
The game continued on TV in the Big Apple
I even talked my mother into watching it
The N.Y. team played well and triumphed!
My team - the Mets - the one I support
I played catcher 45 years ago
If I had focused more - who knows
But one's makes one's decisions in life
You can't turn back the clock
Until a time machine is invented
Until we can roll back the years
pay a visit to Hank Greenburg and Babe Ruth
as they blast the ball over the fence
thrilling the crowd - the masses of people who love baseball
Categories:
ny, baseball, time,
Form:
Classicism
Decades together
Laughter, tears, joys,family
Celebrate hugging
English Haiku
December 31, 2019
Categories:
ny, celebration, love, mother daughter,
Form:
Haiku
my wife went to NY
left a fat beetle for me
a fish for our dog
Categories:
ny, wife,
Form:
Haiku
The NY EBS
There is talk of war.
There is rumor and propaganda.
There is concern and worry.
No one wants to die.
No one wants to die,
for no reason at all.
Where is the positive
in that death,
the "heroic" story... ?
There is none, and will never
be any, except the misery, and pain
without gain for any man, or woman... alive.
Commercials on the air,
New York despair,
put your head down, to the ground...
as you hear the pound, pound, pound!
While you are there...
pray for one another,
and before your last breath include
peace among and for ALL!
Duck and cover in the 50s
seems like child's play now.
All the players are all grown up.
They have become big fish too,
in their small freshwater ponds
scattered around the world.
Size matters because a splash felt there,
will be felt here, before the end of days.
No one will escape.
There are no survivors,
only the remainders,
on their knees before God.
Asking not for mercy,
as they know it is far beyond that point,
racking up the number they killed.
Asking instead for grace, in desperation,
before the nations fall to the dogs.
Categories:
ny, abuse, paradise, perspective, political,
Form:
Free verse
Lightening bugs flash,
like the worn celluloid images of old movies,
I sit beneath a great Greta Garbo moon.
I am the heroine of this short.
The dew point drops,
Mists rise.
Crickets chirp.
Muskwats buzz.
Loons ululate and wail.
My dialogue,
The click and whir of my spinning reel.
The glug-glug-glug of the Hula Popper lure.
To prepare for the climax,
Bring out the proven method acting.
I taste the dirt on my fingers,
Licking and twisting monofilament.
The savory sign of night-crawler trails.
Add the bobber, the weight.
I smell the algae and rotting leaves.
The sweet stew of the lake.
My nose tingles from the life motes it captures.
I cast.
This night, I ad-lib.
There never was a script,
No stupid fish.
Fade to Me,
The Garbo moon,
Clever fish,
Loon interlude.
Categories:
ny, happiness, life, nature, nostalgia,
Form:
Free verse
Their sandwich aesthetic motif
Will thrill the palate beyond belief
Try the pastrami
For a taste bud tsunami
Or order Katz Deli's corned beef
Author's Note: No trip to NY is complete without visiting Katz Deli. BTW, a scene from when Harry met Sally was filmed there.
The food is unbelievable, and the experience is pure NY (a bit chaotic). It is also open 24/7 so there is no excuse to miss this one. I would say, to my friends, that it will be more memorable than the Statue of Liberty, Empire State building, etc. Please do not make a mistake and bypass this multicultural experience if in NY.
Categories:
ny, food,
Form:
Limerick
By Moji Agha
(April 20, 2016--Tucson, AZ)
Chomsky's NY Times Swooning
"I swoon on the NY Times Op-Ed page,
every eleven weeks or so,"
said Prof. Noam Chomsky,
in the sufi monk's (actual) dream.
Around noon of the day after the dream
Ms. Bev S. Stohl replied
to the goofy sufi's appeal for help,
with the possible meaning of the dream--and stuff,
and focused rather seriously
on the number "11" in the dream.
Citing Pythagoras, the Greek math-ilosopher
Chomsky's "guardian angel" assistant said:
[Ummm...in my sufi paraphrase]
"Spiritual messages think like numbers."
So "number 11" (a 1 that stutters)
might be reducing your dream to "number 2,"
so as to avoid being repetitive.
Could it be that she,
repeating her own dreamy "guardian angels,"
might also mean to say
that the "spiritual messages"
hidden in the NY Times Op-Ed page
are usually spread over "2" pages?
Is that why Chomsky swoons there,
repeatedly, every 11 weeks?
Did Pythagoras swoon too?
Is Noam Chomsky
a spiritually angelic repeat of Pythagoras?
(who according to totally unreliable sources,
that often "report" in the NY Times,
was the first person to own
a "number" of vibrational properties in ancient Greece.)
Shouldn't the NY Times be the one
who faints from extreme emotion [swoons]
every time Noam reminds them
of the immorality of propagandistic "reporting?"
Categories:
ny, angel, dream, emotions, faith,
Form:
Dramatic Verse