City Poems | Examples of City Poetry

Airplanes scream overhead Lawn mowers abuzz on the ground Traffic streams endlessly by drowning out nature's intentions all of her creatures’ sounds... One lonely night in...

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On the narrow streets of the city where light barely sneaks in, The best people meet their end beneath a forgotten sheet of paper, While the worst rise in bronze, statues for ages of oblivion, Stone pilgrims on which pigeons leave their mark unabashedly. In this theater of life, where values are overturned on the empty stage, Unknown heroes disappear...

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humid h a z e g l ...

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I know a funeral when I walk into one I can tell between a funeral and a burial They are two entirely different artworks One is done on grand canvas, with drunken strokes Of sashaying brush and bleeding paints; The other is done on mere sand, with foot and hand, Forming sandcastles built by toddlers. I know too well because I have...

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London, a great house standing by a long water, bathed by a golden sun behind the closed doors of the eastern clouds that send stuttering rains even on the hearth of summer to salute all that pass the kennels of the city once they have legitimate travel passes that will elevate them high enough to see the Big Ben - a timely invention chiming and tolling, to remind us of our immigrating...

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I used to say come to London.' Yet not now.' The violence Is spiralling.' There is less value wow.' Not of tawdry glam And glitz and such.' Yet of life.. and futures they don't seem Worth that much.' I know Blues familiy.' No nonsense folk Now living a nightmare.' Delivered by the social enrichment Joke.' In 'sad-diks london...Or londinistan.? Its...

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This is when the old and the young, beasts and confraternal drunks damn the consequences of death lying porous on crossroads upon bifurcated paths, fractured junctions and ceremonial cul-de-sacs... The time is immaterial, so long as the traffic lights — the veggie-green, the claret, and the urine-amber —choose their slow blinking and rapid-eyelid movement carefully. And moon might decide not to power its own light. Tenebrous...

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There used to be a time I can still remember when but times have changed they're not the same we have to roll the rock turn back the clock things are going wrong something's gone astray the streets are yours and mine let's make them safe for kids to play the good old days do you still remember then those days are...

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Stopping in an alley on a summer day rainbow trash exhaling its hot fetid breath a scamper of invisible residents searching for the remains of elegant dining the Nordic hum of struggling A/C units as an evening sun seems to avoid entry music drifts from an open window slowly fades in the humidity peeking over my shoulder I slide behind the dumpster… ...

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The city lights are often burning bright but what may lurk in shadows of the night? Around the corner lover's locked embrace or homeless, roaming streets to find a place. The laughter loudly heard from a night bar or music sweetly playing from afar. Could see some pretty girls walk down the street excited at the prospects they might meet. A stranger, who...

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They do not know I name them— the trees blackened by exhaust, asthmatic, stoic gods lining pedestrian bridges that never forget. Each leaf is a reluctant confessor. Each trunk remembers how I once pressed my palm and thought: You too are surviving this. I walk past ads that scream at no one. Past lovers who will never call again. Even the sky here has bills...

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I feel maybe I hadn't chosen My dream of studying abroad with lots of sacrifices and restless body I still end up being miserable Abroad makes you thirsty for money Where you quench it by slowly Killing your health and body Is it possible to go back ? My heart always plead me I smile gently and...

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i miss duff’s wings and maroon soda i miss the beach lakes i miss the rain where they sang to Iris. i miss joking with you most of all. no one else laughs when i quote dumb movies or make that face you hated. i mean, loved. let’s call it loved. i didn’t believe joni too floaty. too “poet in a canyon.” but yeah, turns out throwaway...

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The hegemony of height gets too much. The city robs me of the horizon and hides it behind towering cathedrals of concrete and glass. Even trees conspire to fill the gaps and extend their leafy reach to obscure the sky. I long for uninterrupted distance, horizontal vistas of the open sea and the flat, unfenced expanses of the inland with its views to infinity....

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(A subaltern dawn song...) We rise before the rooster cries, Before the sky begins to blush, Before the bosses sip their tea, We sweep the silence with a hush. The city sleeps in dreams of glass, We move like whispers through its veins With a broom, a bucket and barefoot grace, Erasing footprints made of stains. The milkman’s cycle hums its tune, His bell rings...

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