Best Tenement Poems

. for public domain

Every crack in the ceiling,
dries up every river of dreams.
When idle eyes can't view their skies,
wadi minds flood over with schemes.

And every hole in the floors
becomes a bottomless well,
where loveless hearts go wishless,
dry up in a dusty old hell.

The mission bells may...

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In the hollows of my being
mental photos move about
doors attempt to shut out
what was already  in - severity
plaster walls sharing testimony 
with squeaky floors
warmth mingled with kerosence petals
ancient melodies oozing hope
ties of embryonic attendance 
anchors of strength obtained...

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Tribute to “The Tenement” Documentary 

All I know is fix’ n
Sweep’n and mopp’n 
Wash’n
And dust’n
I reckon, I’m the only one doing work around here 
I must raise ‘m up right 
Even in this South side of Chicago slum

Late afternoon children play house
Others wheel tires down...

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New York Stanza
The night is dark and wet, street lights
Have no purchase on the empty street beneath;
Only the soft glow from the tenement windows 
Gives form and perspective to my view.
From a half open window across the street,
A soprano voice pierces the misty gloom: 
Callas...

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A spot
On the urban blight
Where once stood
A faded five
Story hovel
For the poorest of
the poor

Fallen in
final decay
Victim of time
Neglect, hopeless
poverty
Political impotence

No flowers,
No ripe tomatoes
Not even marajuana
Just the weeds
Of poverty
Smashed, broken
glass of dreams
Dead in their infancy

When reality set in
No cucumbers, no lilies,
A few times
An unplanted corpse
Of this...

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My Tenement is short and soft
Its rooms are bright but small
Windows here are tinted blue
There's music in the hall

A roof of light loose shingles
Seldom stays in place
Uneven wall are vexed by time
No siding can replace

But is warm and safe here
Where laughter shakes the walls
Loosening the...

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Reared in ruins,
& East London brick dust,
lard spread on bread.
My figure daubed 
by days of oil and dirt,
a boy by railroad tracks -
wrong side.
Trains clattered past
pumping smutty fumes.

Once, a pretty girl
visited our tenement,
posh clothes,
(I mean, not rough flannel),
clean hands, neatly dressed.
We boys gawped, then
then derided.
we...

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