Best Rooftops Poems

yellow, orange, red, ribbons stretched across…the brilliant sun
the sound of a rooster..,a fiddler on a roof, above Anatevka
where roads are muddy and tradition is a foundation…milky

town comes alive…chop, chop, choppy…and doughy…fish
feathers…generations…heavy bundles and matchmaking
questions, seriously funny with portentous blessing…worship

peace and harmony interrupted by troublemaker, dancing
dragging...

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Here, in the heart of New York
locked within the concrete maze
of buildings, avenues and taxis,
I hear the perpetual cacophony
of noises echoing all around me. 

Looking up, a taste of freedom
Freedom from the masses that
move relentlessly along the streets.
Hints of greenery peak out along
the sides and...

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If Christmas came several times a year
I would surely be a very happy guy
What a true treasure having family near

If Christmas came several times a year
I would enjoy the carols I love to hear
My spirits to the rooftops would surely fly

If Christmas came Several times...

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High above the sidewalks
     Of the city’s concrete tangle
Perched atop the houses
     From a somewhat tilted angle
You may find that there exists
    A great respite from the hustle
A place one may escape
  ...

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Keep it to yourself and keep looking around
Do you need to be there?
Can you see the light under the neon?
Can you read the lips of the gaudy?
Change is sitting there somewhere
With a glass, weary-eyed
Wondering what has become of it.

With every segue, the faces waltz around,
The...

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RUNNING ROOFTOPS TO RUINATION

Long Island had raised me but the island wasn’t long enough
And everyday I had upper-middleclass b******t to rebuff
Day after day I’d stride the stairs to the roof of a building where the wicked would meet
Well not so much wicked as just a...

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I used to live for everything; for the naked trees in the autumn, for the smell of hope in the 
spring. Every time that smell came I would breathe deeper. 
I would look out of my window at night and see the city lights gleaming...

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It’s a year later and the wind has calm.  The hard rain now just sprinkles and the 
rooftops are empty.  Empty of the hands reaching up to sky hoping to be rescued 
from the rooftops.  Empty of the face filled with despair...

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The more I figure something out,
the less the words impact 

When trading dreams for cogent schemes,
the verse comes weak and flat

The more I chase the clouds away,
the clearer are the doubts

That misty haze around my gaze,
whose whisper—now a shout

(Dreamsleep: March, 2021)...

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colour-less bleak sky
                          raindrops murmur on rooftops
             ...

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