Cities Poems - Poems about Cities

...Have you ever seen true madness take full possession of a man? Gobayth’s dreams of coming home were now all well and truly damned. It’s said he screamed for half the night, so much that it damaged his throat, and it was not long after that he started slaying ‘settled’ folk. The first target was a merchant travelling with his concubine and his two slaves...

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...A jolt ran though the broken men, like wraiths they rose, streamed for the door, Gobayth waved them on until nobody remained anymore. They raced on towards the small hut where all of the pick-aces lay, some guards were starting to notice, running about every which way. Gobayth wished the poor men luck, but he did not follow their path, and instead ran to the...

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...After a bit her cries died down, everyone could see she was dead, a small head hung between her thighs, mother and son covered in red. He had seen so much callousness, but this he just couldn’t believe, it was after seeing this horror Gobayth decided to leave. Of course, it took some time to plan, in the day the watch was intense, men along...

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...Gobayth’s mind was nearly crushed, this was his life now, it appeared, and all sorts of depressing thoughts flooded his mind that first half-year. Was this what life was really like for most of the souls in this world? An endless, unpaid drudgery, with slashing whips always unfurled? Was this how ‘settled’ people lived? Is so, then why bother with life? How could those outside...

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...Finally Gobayth came to a devastated mountainside, the trees and soil stripped away, slaves cutting out blocks of great size. They led him to a wooden hut where several gold coins were exchanged, the mine owner said, “Bring him out, fit him for his own set of chains!” He was forced out into the pit, driven forward by several guards, who showered him with stinging...

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I’ve seen many look to the sky and to the gods earnestly plead, what sins have the committed that require so many to bleed? Why does Lord Diyal ride the lands, do things that make your stomach churn, his soldiers loot and pillage all… Why do they make your cities burn? I can tell you that it begins with a young man named Gobayth, a...

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Once there stood a golden field, Swaying crops, a farmer's yield. Morning songs of birds took flight, Beneath the sky so vast and bright. The village paths, of dust and stone, Where children laughed and cattle roamed, Now paved with tar, so smooth and wide, Where restless cars and buses glide. The thatched-roof homes with lantern’s glow, Replaced by lights in glassy rows. The banyan...

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She sent back the last order, as well. This time, she shook her head like a dog in the rain, like a posh-frock woman having "a spell." The brimming broth, she said, had a bitterness that swelled and stung between her cheeks, and across her tongue. It steamed with the scent of turmeric and sweat, a lipstick kiss in the basement of the Red...

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We live in glass cities, fragile as the truths we whisper behind closed doors. The streets hum with neon sighs, faces reflecting off windows, never quite meeting. At night, the skyscrapers lean in close, as if to confess something they can’t say aloud. I walk, barefoot on cold concrete, hoping for a crack to let the stars slip through....

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I cannot tell what the dickens his name is.’ (The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act 3, Scene 2) by Shakespeare I have a real tale to tell of two cities. I need an author of some note. I heard of one whose first name is Charles. My name is Oliver and by some twist of fate, I can’t remember Charles’s last name! ...

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… I see the bad moon a-risin' I see trouble on the way I see earthquakes and lightnin' I see bad times today … Don't go around tonight Well it's bound to take your life There's a bad moon on the rise … I hear hurricanes a-blowin' I know the end is comin' soon I fear rivers over flowin' I hear the voice of rage...

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In the silence of the night, when cities sleep under the veil of illusion, People tread the paths of lies with heavy steps, Embracing the shadows of the day that have slipped onto the pavements, A theater of the absurd, where everyone is both actor and spectator, Reflecting in the empty shop windows of an alienated existence. They look to...

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Paris is gay Madrid sways Munich's beer flows Amsterdam's tulips grow New York and Chicago high grime and crime San Fran and L.A. ~ Buddy, can you spare...

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Too many people Too many buildings Not enough grass Not enough space To get away from Everyone if needed I mean look at how far You gotta go just to Touch fields of grass Makati is a beautiful place Cities just aren’t for me....

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The cities churn like a flock of seagulls where fear comes from a broken unchained door the masks of hunger hide in shadowed walls fighting for scraps tossed on a filthy floor buildings stand to decay where streets collide garbage lay in piles, a strong smelly blight change means nothing where the dying abide to disturb the hate of a city's plight children...

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