Best Subways Poems
lately, i have been in this female mood
for some kind of abandon, that
which exhales the tigress fire
out of my lungs digging the veins
from a week's' routine movements
pruned to the barest of a payroll’s droll…
antiseptic cubicles dictate the rags of
chlorine-infected lunch where rooms
i strut around have nothing except
robotic people, same rye snacks, basins
of expired coffee and files of schizoid
folio..
just outside, the sky coughs
of gas masks rendering a paper bag
of humanity to suffocate on clanking bones
along claustrophobic subways: such a
hemorrhaging day waiting for 5pm
to hiss, halt ,and heave…
i need to dance with the arms of a
jazzy moon fondling my back and
whistling the tunes of recklesness
when all but the spirit lusts for is just a slice
of raw breaths spiraling into tangy
punches of rockstar blues... spare me the cranky
claws of a friday so sore; i alight like
a feline dressed in black lace with cabaret wings,
feathers splattered on glitzy cobblestones...
voluptuous legs hot and wild sniffing sultry
lavender scent of friday night’s parade;
and the band notes howl, free like me.
Carol Eastman's Your Favorite Poem
by nette onclaud
Categories:
subways, adventure, woman,
Form:
Light Verse
As I wake up to the dawn of another day
I wrestle with myself and ask why bother
Just another day, without any warmth
There is a chill in my heart, sadly this is true
The coffee pot sings, an attempt to lift spirits
I confess I welcome even this small endeavor
A machine trying to cheer me up,
In this a cold cold cold world
How can this be?
Me so thirsty and cold?
I hypnotically prepare for another day
As I curse Al Gore
I see you all scurry from here to god knows where
Curious I ponder what’s the rush?
Snow falls from a dreary sky
A blanket of white to chill us even more
A child romps happily in springtime meadows
Chasing butterflies and dreams
His heart now filled with Vodka Ice
How did such warmth turn into an ancient glacier?
In the subway deep underground
I see a stranger, a woman, tears falling
Icicles form under her eyes
She too has a frozen heart
I would hug her, with words of comfort
If not for the invisible cold barrier between us
We are many on this subway of desire
So close, yet we all feel the northern winds of loneliness
This world of love and compassion has become frozen
We have forgotten the season of spring
We have been frozen out of emotions garden
We shiver here in the cold together alone
I rise up from the subways depths
I know my heart was murdered by the arctic winds
Something inside of me , cries
Go Go Go melt something, anything
I pass the newsstand selling flowers
I buy one single rose
The woman with icicle tears is nearby
I hand her this rose
I whisper, what this planet needs
Is some global warming
She smiles a sad thank you
As I walk away, hoping
Global warming takes hold
Categories:
subways, butterfly, flower, rainforest, wind,
Form:
Light Verse
Kind of Blue…
Slinking into a still hue of blues
Haunting trumpets dart in and out
Like taxi horns in freeloading traffic
And cling like silk onto full figured rifs
When winsome modal notes wear sleek cobalt
Where soulbeats throb from smoky bars
Blue moods of so what
Sway like humid lovers on rainy nights
To the clink of ice in shot glasses
And afterhours shades of whisky, sweat and old scotch -
Smooth as muted cool
Luxurious tracks of indigo distilled intimacy
Stretch without strict resolutions
Improv exhales unashamed sketches
Of empty barstools and empty arms
As modes of blue undress into serendipity
When newborn sounds wrap limbs around
Old scores of stale melodic staves
Steady bass lines underscore mellow beats
Unperturbed ruminating pulse,
Slow percussive murmurs
Like rhythmic subways of all blues slow walking
With mystic measures of ebb and neap attraction -
A perpetual kiss slides slow into a kind of blue.
Categories:
subways, blue, music,
Form:
Free verse
Rio de Janeiro, a city by the shore:
Home to Ipanema, Carnival and dance folklore.
As a child, of you I read, from books that showed your Christ.
Arms outstretched, He guards your days and lights your sky by night.
And now I’ve stood beneath His feet and breathed the air you breathe.
I’ve viewed the famous Sugar Loaf, seen monkeys play in trees,
visited your fruit stands and drunk from a coconut shell.
I’ve searched for creatures hewn in stone that midnight vendors sell,
and on your soft and clinging sand, I thrust my toes deep in
and glistened under winter sun, brown sugar on my skin.
Along Copacabana, I jumped waves, enjoyed a beach
which, when they cross an avenue, all visitors can reach.
On weekends and on holidays, your several sea fronts teem
with hundreds, no with multitudes, of people who all seem
content to chat beneath umbrellas, lounging in the sun,
while on a road closed to all traffic, others like to run.
And on that winding promenade are folks, most clad in shorts,
thong-bikinied women, sundry shapes and shades all sorts!
Kids whiz by on roller blades; old or young may ride a bike.
Many simply merrily stroll, though dressed as for a hike.
And in your city’s whole, the countless cars and bodies stream;
pedestrians and door-less shops, props in your waking dream.
with taxis veering left and right and people catching buses;
Cacophony of life your subways and your streets encompass.
Children on their mother’s hands; boys in soccer shirts.
Men sip beers at sidewalk bars; girls scurry in their tight skirts.
Portuguese artisans laid the paths your people walk.
What tales immersed in history if cobblestones could talk!
More than a metropolis, you are yourself, unique!
And I have had the pleasure to have sampled your mystique.
For Bic Gi-Sa's Landscape and Towns Contest
Categories:
subways, people,
Form:
Rhyme
To: the “Timeless” One
Like parallel lines that don’t intersect
Like strangers in subways that never connect
Like messages in bottles that never reach shore
Like a drained stream, I don’t try any more.
Because
You’re like a stormy cloud that dampened my light
Like a blank stare in the dead of the night
Like a worn out movie that’s stuck on rewind
You’re that man on the sidewalk, ten steps behind.
Love,
The Hourglass
Categories:
subways, absence, dark, emotions, farewell,
Form:
Rhyme
Our Ancient Prophet
In a city of steel and glass, where neon signs blaze bright,
Our prophet (PBUH) walks among the shadows of the night.
His eyes hold ancient wisdom, his steps a timeless grace,
He moves through crowds unnoticed, a relic out of place.
In alleys dark, he whispers truths that echo through the years,
His voice a soothing balm for those with modern fears.
He speaks of love and kindness, of peace in troubled times,
His words like ancient verses, unfolding sacred rhymes.
He wears the garb of ages past, a robe of woven lore,
Yet in this age of chaos, his message is the core.
He sees the hearts of people, their struggles and strife,
He offers ancient solace in the turmoil of modern life.
Our prophet (PBUH) sees the future in the city lights,
A world of endless Jihad and ever-lasting fights.
He warns of greed and anger, of paths that lead to woe,
Yet offers hope and healing for Muslims who seek to know.
In markets bustling, in subways deep, he finds the weary souls,
He guides them with a gentle hand towards their hidden goals.
A bridge between the epochs, a whisper from the past,
He stands a timeless sentinel, his wisdom built to last.
Though time has tried to hide him, his truth will never fade,
For in the heart of every Muslim, his teachings are relayed.
An ancient prophet, living in the now, his presence still so strong,
Reminding us that in our hearts, his timeless words belong.
Categories:
subways, religious,
Form:
Rhyme
Bullfrogs in the belfry – get it on.
Butterflies sipping tea – get it on.
Bananas making bread – get it on.
Bubbles beyond belief – get it on.
Bare bottoms bumping blue birds – get it on.
Got on it – hair follicles parading past ferris wheels.
Got on it – hungry appetite hurrying onto subways.
Got on it – helpful hints scurrying onto freight cars
Got on it – hilarious hippos stomping through a zoo.
Got on it – hugs all around for the USA, red, white and blue.
Categories:
subways, 6th grade, 7th grade,
Form:
Light Verse
Happiness in a Wrong way – Zamreen Zarook
In the notion of seeking happiness,
I thought of stepping in to nonsense,
I dream I could find success,
But I had only little access.
Every attempt that I lend,
It was an utter failure at the end,
My life was full of difficult bend,
But God is always there as a good friend.
My deeds travel in various ways,
Some times in subways,
Or in times it goes in highways,
But I had the belief, God is there always.
North and south families surrounded,
East and west friends are rounded,
Every time fear on death soughed,
I am trapped, and my merits are loaded.
Categories:
subways, abuse, addiction, adventure, age,
Form:
Rhyme
He was always at the same spot, least everyday I passed
In the snow, rain, cold or really hot his shadow was cast
He never really said much or took people out of their way
But many people he did touch his sign just saying to pray
Some people would stop and talk, some a smile on their face
Others would just continue to walk uneasy in just such a place
Some would toss a wave or a smile and that became everyday
And yet all the while it was the man with the sign just saying to pray
And as the subways roared in and the next wave would pass by
We have all fallen in our own sin as so being one reason why
And there read other reasons too all stenciled neatly on his sign
But today there was something new right there on the very last line
Perhaps you never gave Him a thought each day in passing him by
Up until now you never sought and didn't think that you'd ever try
But it was that last line wasn't it that finally did draw you near
The fact that the old man never quit, to you that finally did adhere
Categories:
subways, beauty, courage, faith, fishing,
Form:
Rhyme
PUBLIC TRANSPORT NATION
AH..the joys of public transportation
The “T”, the “El”, the “Tube”
short trips through hell
wading through the masses of humanity
clinging to the subways lack of sanity
sleeping men and women – homeless
sprawled upon the benches,
the less fortunate among us – “bums”
redefined as “monetarily deficient”.
“Elderly” – strap clutching hangers-on
ignored by the seated “texters and tweeters”
video game players, and “up-skirters”
inhaling the toxic cocktail of perfumes,
colognes, body lotions, hair sprays,
hair gels, and anti-body odor poisons -
choking on the inhaled culture of diversity
Focused on one spot lest eye contact occur
swaying to the music of too-loud ear buds,
strobe lighted rumble through darkness,
flashes of life, of history, never fully known.
John G. Lawless
8/29/2015
Categories:
subways, culture, society,
Form:
Verse
The sun is
shining red as it
descends from the heavens
Outside my window I
see its brilliant light
This city is
where the fate of
man is forged
This city is the hope
for humankind
The musical, theatrical, film
and poetic performances
Can leave one breathless
We have the NY Giants and Jets in football
The Mets and Yankees in baseball
The Knicks and Nets in basketball
In this city one
need never be bored
On the dark side
are desperate men
and women lying on the street and
combing the subways for food
We need to open our hearts
And New Yorkers do have hearts
The red sun is beginning
to set beneath the clouds
This magical city
comes alive at night
Its millions of inhabitants
form the backbone
Of this great - greater than ever
metoropolis
Categories:
subways, city, urban,
Form:
Free verse
the crowds taking the subways
enter the underground
below upon waking
to rise up
to work
in the clouds above
only to go back in the evening
down through the underground
low upon leaving
to home
to family
to final rest
in the underground
or in the clouds above
Categories:
subways, business, death, funeral, funny,
Form:
Blank verse
Many springs have come and gone,
the city roars and wheezes,
concrete monsters block the prospect
and restrict the balmy breezes.
Summers stifle, streets are steaming,
hydrants bring some small relief,
merchants battle with the street gangs,
struggle on in blind belief.
Canyons strangle, subways throttle,
autumn bleeds in red and gold,
chilly now as winter beckons
with its shroud of killing cold.
Jersey beckons 'cross the river,
yet another frying pan,
in the cauldron of convection,
cradle of the modern man.
Categories:
subways, city, environment,
Form:
Quatrain
A scourge on subways is the guy
Whose legs are widely splayed
So those who want to sit won’t try –
They’re shy or just afraid.
His manspread takes two seats at least
As if it is his right,
Though others think this selfish beast
Is more than impolite.
The MTA*’s creating ads
To focus on these guys,
Though likely such obnoxious cads
Will never compromise.
I wish I had the kind of nerve
To challenge such a man
And give him what he does deserve –
A kick right in the can!
*Metropolitan Transit Authority
Categories:
subways, men, urban,
Form:
Rhyme
She sits on a street corner with a teardrop in her eye
Wishing she were in the cars of the people driving by
Her mother left with some john about two months ago
The man with the eviction notice didn’t care she had no place else to go
She carries in her small backpack everything she owns
The coming of the winter colds is in the winds that have blown
The bed she made on a City Park bench can comfort her no more
Her absences in the public school do not entice anyone to go looking for …
… the poor little black girl that nobody cares about
She has potential deep inside of her buried beneath the hunger pains
But nobody in this busy world recognizes what there is to gain
She is doing everything she possibly can to stop from turning tricks
But the only thing her mother taught her was how to hide the bruises from her kicks
The Styrofoam cup she holds out to strangers hasn’t collected any coin
People just leave her looks of disgust as if she is at fault for being forlorn
Shadows cast by the high-rise buildings grow longer with the setting sun
As commuters begin their journeys home she stands up in front of everyone …
… and the poor little black girl lets out a booming shout
“I don’t do this because I want to; being abandoned was not my choice;
I tried quietly to ask for help – but today I will use my voice
I turned thirteen years old today – the anniversary of another girl’s mistake
Is it too much to ask for, just once, a piece of cake?”
“You can pretend that I don’t exist; you can pretend that you’re better than me;
You can long for that future day when I am no longer here for you to see;
You can hate me and fear me and just turn your head the other way;
But you will see me again, sitting by our Father to hear your excuses come judgment day”
Businessmen and businesswomen stopped for just a minute
They looked around at one another not sure of the message or how to spin it
Then continued towards their taxis, subways, ferries and their cars
She stood alone after the sun went down beneath the twinkling stars …
It is up to you, now, to determine how this story turns out
Categories:
subways, life, me, girl, me,
Form:
Rhyme