Long Big apple Poems
Long Big apple Poems. Below are the most popular long Big apple by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Big apple poems by poem length and keyword.
Oh no! Train again!
Perched upon parallels of steel,
You roll your way on heavy wheels.
Thundering through town
With a rhythmic rattle and clickity-clack.
Your deep throat rumbles diesel black.
Cars convey a cargo of corn syrup,
Commuters and coal.
You are an ant trail of steel
Packing prizes from a picnic port.
You are the artery of America’s life blood.
--Four full sets of dominoes
Laid in one long row.
--A segmented serpent
Slithering on shining steel.
--A bright-eyed Cyclops screaming in the night,
Awakening children with a fright.
--A termite traveling through boroughs
Beneath the “Big Apple”.
You are the canvas of gangland graffiti
And ferry for freight hoppers
Who dare to hitch a ride.
A network linking limits sea to sea.
Now, rattle past, and make it fast.
I’ve places I should be.
Any tourist visiting the Big Apple
has noticed a big change in attitude;
everyone rushes by looking sad and acting rude,
" Our city has gone through a year of struggle!"
All cafes are shutting down, my City Cafe' too,
I came here on weekend and read my poetry to everyone;
my fellow poets acclaimed, I hated the deriding boo
of a passerby who knew nothing about how to write one.
I'm stuck in the Big Apple, I could leave Gotham*
and go to another city as vibrant as Amsterdam...
would I find the same enthusiasm from words spoken vividly?
Will young people listen and learn how to write good poetry?
Life has lost its vibrancy in the Melting Spot, smiles are gone
and all the friendliness has cooled off, it's a cross on Calvary...
when one thinks of death and nothing else, instead of clinging to hope;
can a glass of Bordeaux change the sad mood and break their sobriety?
Pfizer seems promising, volunteers line up to get inoculated,
other are skeptical and rather wait, their cynicism is unreal;
many have lost their dear ones and fear to be in a hospital bed,
Trump is proud of his accomplishment and that's his last squeal.
The city that has never slept will return to certain normality,
no masks or distancing are required after ninety days;
the livelihood it had and the death toll is a tremendous loss,
the nostalgia echoes in all, but stronger is the desire to live freely.
GOTHAM: New York City
It can be kind of depressing,
living in upstate New York,
because of that damn city,
that grand ol’ attention whore,
I cannot go anywhere
without having to explain
that I don’t live in a borough,
I live three hours away!
Can’t go to vote in November,
without a voice in my mind
reminding me they cancel us,
that it’s all a waste of time.
Can’t expect rights protected,
not in the countryside,
not when Urban know-it-alls
think history has a ‘tide.’
And to top it off the upstate
lands are quite something to see,
overflowing with wilderness,
and quiet, pastoral beauty.
We got thunderous Niagara,
and Letchworth’s massive gorge,
Finger Lakes and wine country,
Ontario’s freshwater shores.
The rolling, lore-steeped Catskills,
shot through with mighty cloves,
the rocky Adirondacks,
break sky with ancient stone,
the grandeur of the Hudson
carves it was through the scene,
flanked by bucolic county,
and deep wilderness serene.
The north has the St. Lawrence,
of Thousand Islands fame,
the central lands have waterfalls,
and are shot through with caves.
The sheer walls of Shawangunk,
the rugged beauty of Lake George,
Champlain with its famous monster,
Lake Placid’s Olympic sports.
Yes, there’s quite a lot up here,
so much for folks to see,
all of it in the shadow,
of that oversized city.
Though now that I think of it,
if the city wasn’t there,
all those ten million people,
would have to move somewhere…
Oh, good lord, no!
Come visit the Big Apple,
it’s a magic place to go,
the finest experience
most folks will ever know!
With skyscrapers, museums,
great food on every plate,
come visit New York City,
I swear to God, it’s ‘great.’
THREE PLUS ONE EQUALS FUN
Once upon a time, no fairytale,
there lived three of us kids,
washing dishes, rolling dice,
kissing mom and dad
goodnight.
Next upon a time, mama
cozily on her bed, yelled out
names and we joined
in this new game…
The three of us, just right for oz...we were the lollipop kids.*
And my brother wanted a monkey, not a sister or brother.
Yet three plus one brought so much fun.
Our sister was fashionable,
funny right from the start,
not a Dollar Store sort.
She loves red lipstick,
leopard patterns
and the Big Apple.*
No doubt three plus one caused our cackles to soar.
Thank goodness the ‘rents stopped or there’d be more.
2/12/2020
What's In A Number Poetry Contest
Sponsor is Juliet Ligon
Reference to the lollipop kids is from The Wizard of Oz
Big Apple is a nickname for New York City
Dollar Store - American store where each item costs 1 dollar
‘rents is short for parents
Who would have thought it would come to this
The Big Apple, home of Wall Street
The Yankees, Broadway and Central Park
Would one day elect a Marxist Muslim mayor?!
Groucho must be rolling in his grave
As Harpo, well, plays his harp in pain.
I’ve been to The City, seen the World’s Fair
Ridden the subway, wandered all over there,
But now it’s somehow different
A new world in a new world order
It’s like the UN took over the town
Opened all its doorways to tear it all down.
Mayor Mamdani, may not last for long
May not even be legit if all votes were known,
But he will certainly be remembered
For polarizing his home,
And driving small minority owned businesses
Into the ground.
What comes next we want to know?
Maybe a Trump or something
Less conventional, more traditional,
Like an apple pie baking baseball playing
Yankee doodle dandy whistling mom.
Whatever it is I’m rootin’ for you NYC
Rootin’ and cheerin' for your comeback run.
(9/7/26)
One Shoe On
One shoe is on, the other is gone.
Let’s put this majestic jester hat on—
once upon a time,
a black swan.
2018 into 2019,
my inner voice whispered:
There will be a toilet paper apocalypse.
Get your M95 mask.
A rhyme from the land of Wuhan,
a lab leak—
stay six feet apart.
The joke and the joker will laugh.
Thirty-two, maybe thirty-four felonies
for Trump, from the Big Apple.
Israel attacked by Hamas on the seventh of October.
A kidnapping—someone named Nora—
a cheap motorcycle,
and Al Jazeera knows.
I'm no doctor
Three Kings’ Day, desecrated by rioters.
“Ashley, go home.”
A vision of Corey, a firefighter,
falling during national turmoil.
And the voice says:
“The pen is mightier than the sword.
Turn your head and cough.
So, Fight, fight, fight—
That is my Trump card.”
A quake, seven points,
On or near the seventh day of the seventh month
Near ridgecrest California.
The fall of Afghanistan.
Thirteen U.S. dead.
A special forces 'guy'—
Gone.
Roe v. Wade overturned.
States' rights.
We, the people,
Will be held accountable.
Go home, Emily Willis.
Get out of ****.
If I needed help,
I’ll go to St. George,
Not California.
And a few other Ideas
But whatever I'm not Tiresias
Nor a revelator
Or like a prophetess
Just someone who's missing a shoe.
I am a sinner.
Call me the freak.
I don’t care.
I should have copyrighted it.
Said:
Jesus is the Christ,
Joseph Smith is a prophet.
I lost my faith.
Found it again.
So much déjà vu
I thought I’d gone insane.
Anon in the comments calls me a con.
I don’t care.
You might say i have a demon
I don't care.
Foregone in the present.
Twice before,
maybe.
Once, in 2001–2002.
And maybe—
If the high school memory is real—
1996.
A Cold War relic computer,
an Army officer from the West,
and my warning:
“Tolkien’s Two Towers.
Call 911.”
I don’t know if it was real.
Maybe crazy.
Most likely.
I don’t care.
FOR IX : EMIGRATING FRIEND
Fly lightly IX within Merlin’s wings
may your Mohican pony-tail
grow thick and strong
may Africa kiss America
with gentle sensation long
may salty breath of Cape Town
mingle with New York ~
may clear sub-atomic particles
continue to dance in humble service
with harmonious Awareness
may two crows and all Duality
dissolve into Unity
via your Trinity
We release you into
Big Apple arms beguiling
knowing you will not be
swallowed at an unknown core
as dual citizenry is but a feeble
stop to Total Dissolution’s door
the Truth is IX
your disposition is
Pure and your belonging
is everywhere
sure
Big Apple Bullies
It was a very, humid summer day.
Too hot to any god to pray.
So being hot, tired, hungry and all~
We decided to followed AOC's call.
When hungry, she said, "go steal".
So we followed her advice with great zeal.
We took our empty orange Nike boxes.
To fill with bakery goodies~ we are such
clever foxes.
Tonight, some pizza would be so good.
But what boxes are best~ ones of wood?
This will be a great summer, we cheer?
While forlorn store owners, oh well, may
shed tears.
New York City is now our town!
Businesses run by stupid working clowns.
Those ignoramuses out to earn a living?
Such dunces, it's from them we are stealing,
as there is no policing!
July 18, 2020
6:15pm PST
Fatima was always dressed up fittingly as any occasion called for
Today one might call her a performance artist but she was
A hippie and child of God always good for some drama though
Was not taken seriously in the reviews in the Paradise Gazette
All she wanted was to be seen as playful serene and sophisticated
First thing it were dates that started the show in the garden
And she had never performed in the nude let alone seduced
She played Hamlet and Noah Mephistopheles and Juliet
Let her hair down to climb down from Babylonian towers
Her repertoire was enormous and to her chagrin so was her bust
‘They always look at my bosom and never hear a word that I say
Fake voyeuristic news and when things go wrong I get the blame’
She was made for the stage in the Big Apple not dated palms’
Tried olives but they were too small and peaches far too symbolic
Bananas were phallic and there was no couch in the garden
‘Fatima at her best again a gorgeous woman with forbidden fruit
But she covers up and her sidekick Mohamed bears the cost
She must reveal more of her natural talent and not hide her loins’
Her mountain quivered in disgust of the lecherous media and
Pressed for fame she developed a different plot with a twist
‘Mohamed let’s be traditional and awaken the punters with apples
We could juggle and whenever we drop one we’ll take off some clothes
The last one with fancy knickers gets to skin the snake as a prize'
High into sensational air they went but could not catch the globes
It was not divine as such but they created the first nudist camp
Once all garments were ripped off the good Lord smiled as they pleased
History must not be falsified and the legend carried on for millennia
Evangelists spread the message and facebook has millions of hits
Finally the audience got a full un-redacted view of naked scripture
Fatima was a transgender man and the serpent had a pearl for an oyster
01st Agust 2019
This "plague" isn't going away anytime soon.
We're openly told this is our new normal.
To bend over and over without any lube.
There's much to be gained by prolonging the pain.
From the made-in-China masks you're wearing.
From the made-in-China parts that go into COVID test kits.
The reds dream of pulling hearts from freedom's chest.
Barbed things are being thrust into our bloodstreams.
One vaccine, concocted from cells of two aborted babies from the seventies...
A boy and a girl, given letters and numbers instead of names.
Just like Jews that were stuffed into Auschwitz cattle trains.
This plague isn't going away anytime soon.
For it's a bonanza for big pharma and conglomerates.
At the deadly expense of the working-class stiff.
While they tell us not to gather in numbers.
The privileged party in Martha's Vineyard.
They released hordes of convicts onto the streets.
To protect THEM from a bug and not us.
They inoculated nursing homes with covid patience
While a mercy ship sat empty in Big Apple Harbor.
Fully equipped with a thousand empty beds...
This Plague isn't going away anytime soon.