Long Brooklyn Poems
Long Brooklyn Poems. Below are the most popular long Brooklyn by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Brooklyn poems by poem length and keyword.
AntiPoem 31 “Rita Montero”
(Poet’s instruction: Kindly play “Ay, Mama Inez”
by Rita Montero while reading this AntiPoem)
a red trolley finds Ebbets Field behind a pigtown ditch
significant hotdogs and burnt singles melt into the pitch
Jackie Robinson squares off with an ash tree riding the sky
the flag of our fathers dancing in center field poised to fly
“honey, I hope you like these seats here in the bleachers
you can see Bedford on the phone looking for preachers
an endless parade of white-walled tires scurrying on by
can you smell the Nathan’s dogs downstairs on hot rye
let us hurry hence dear, before this inning comes to an end
and our Jackie Robinson comes barreling up to bat again”
“Una mujer negra se asoma en el teatro de Buenos Aires”
Argentine goddess with roots in the dark seeping prairies
musically squeezes the brass ring as the black cloud dries
“Rita Montero, you are as lovely as your sweet empanada pies
your wonderful sidewalks through gardens of lapacho trumpets
please come sit with me here, to talk and to eat these crumpets
to speak of your forever glissandos and sad asado whispers
your electric shadows finding humble graces at vespers
retrieving lost spaces from opera teachers and stupid men
to step forward again with singing eyes and a ballpoint pen
Rompiste la puerta blanca maloliente!”
please Rita meet me in Córdoba next wednesday”
she sits in her bleacher seat with a Nathan’s dog on hot rye
“honey, I hope we can see Jackie Robinson hit a deep fly
high up into the airy Brooklyn blue arching yet over Bedford
the democrats in section seven will applaud the proud leopard
Rita Montero, I can see her in the grandstand behind Shotton
she is giving absolution for all the skin sins now long forgotten
let us hurry hence dear, before this inning comes to an end
and our Jackie Robinson comes barreling up to bat again”
The New York Public Library’s
A lovely place to visit.
The main branch Beaux-Arts building
Is a landmark most exquisite.
In addition to its majesty,
Exhibits are displayed,
Which New Yorkers rarely think about
When plans are being made.
I don’t know why, for there are treasures
Waiting to be viewed.
In one case, there was Pooh Bear,
Where most children’s eyes were glued.
Charles Dickens’ writing table
And his calendar and chair,
Plus a baseball signed by Brooklyn Dodgers
All are set up there.
A special exhibition
Was the draw that lured us in,
Celebrating the New Yorker
And its hundred year-old spin.
And one final must-go reason –
There’s a gift shop worth a look.
You can spend the day enjoying all
And never touch a book.
Breathe Again
Did I have years of experience
Or was it years of daily repeats
I must have had, my confidence had suffered,
Those pop-up painful memories
In my love life and work experience I feud daily
Here I am today as I am aging,
I developed this thing called
“I just don’t give a ”
About after I am gone,
Just buried me under a tree,
Speak to me, my inner child:
Speak to me, like how you did in my past:
Were you guiding me or were you misleading me?
Lots of stories to be told,
The one who tells the best story
Were mostly observant of the craft,
Speak, to me, I was so blind, I was so lost
Nave, during those years of uncertainty.
What I had to endure, to make a living,
Those voices, those faces, those oppressors
Where are they now?
Here I am still feuding with the trauma
Speak to me, my inner child.
In slow motion my poetic, voice,
Entwined with my emotions,
Coyote and I travel Brooklyn Street without fear,
I am black by nature
Proud by choice, coyote I rather walk with the tiger,
Now they are studying my every move,
My internet posts, my TikTok text
Once again, no edits, only Al filters,
Lamb of God I look to thee
I was once that frightened inner child.
Baseball Legend, Joe Black
Pitcher for the BROOKLYN DODGERS
Played on the team with Jackie Robinson
In fact, Mr. Black and Mr. Robinson were room mates
Mr. Black was also a former Corporate VP at Greyhound Bus Lines
He worked at the former Corporate Headquarters in Phoenix, Arizona
That is where I met him, and he became my Mentor and Hero
Mr. Black had given me two books of Afro-American Achievers
The book appropriately titled, “THEY ACHIEVED SO CAN YOU”
My Mentor was an Achiever being a mover and Shaker
Foundation established
As a Teenager back then was fascination.
I was surrounded by encouragement being blessed in getting wisdom from an all-time great
Mr. Black helped me realize in my own possibilities and to focus on accomplishing my very own
It consisted of believing in myself and enforced purpose
During the Teenage years, you don’t think on establishing, but failure and doubt runs through the mind
Through experience cutting through the hard knocks is where I was establishing myself
However, I often wondered, but thought in the principles given by Mr. Joe Black
I was the Achiever within.
Mr. Black’s words were my floor plan having an agenda
He saw my capabilities with assurance and no blockade
I am reflecting back on history quality fact in being guided in doing and knowing
Playball for me is playing the game and staying in the game in making strides
in what would become victory
Playball to me means having courage and stand out in being determined
There’s no can’t nor won’t, but shouts of encouragement in fulfill
Mr. Joe Black is deceased and died when he was in his 70’s, but his motto lives within me being his legacy
I have my own legacy in follow what I did, and you can too
Every try is an effort and believing in knowing you can
Thank You Mr. Joe Black for being my Mentor and showing my purpose in life in assurance of my own breakthroughs
Play ball
Concourse "C"
Part three
Directions printed from Map Quest
meant only for one way
confused three tired travelers
driving to Delaware late one day
Leaving Kennedy
heading towards ninety five
they pass the on-ramp quickly
High,
they never saw the sign.
The wrong direction they head for miles
in this city of high steel and concrete.
Time passed, traffic slowed
weather turned from rain to sleet
Through the city they drive in circles
passing buildings already seen
hitting every red light for miles
given no chance for speed
Over bridges & underground tunnels,
like rats scrambling through a maze
they're lost somewhere in Brooklyn
and have been half the day.
Jared Pickett
1/22/06
Asavvy1
Social Media influencers on the racist right
said us Jews control radio and TV
That we rot the roots of morality’s tree,
The implication is clear; there’s no society free.
One TV personality invited a guy
who spouted reasons for Hitler's views
As the real deal, I wonder why
So much dumping on the Jews
They talk of the 'noticing' - a kind of right wing 'woke'
where folks wake up to Jewish control
They take advantage of a center that's broke
Old ideas corrupt a bewildered soul.
Some shout that we’re pushing everything gay,
Yet many gays march against Israel today.
On campuses now, free speech has its price—
Debate is forbidden; it just isn't nice.
Even China got into that social media bed
plus it helps Iran, the Houthis, lots more could be said
In Brooklyn, some blacks punch Jews in the head
In America, some Jewish blood spilt and ran red
Yes, it’s true we have fools, that cross red lines,
Who chase after causes that darken our times.
But most of us build, most of us mend—
Confuse friend and foe, and you hasten the end.
Bad ideas never die
Let's stand firm against the lie.
Being happy was my wish for cynosure,
in living, I sought either fame or wealth...
having seen the results of utter foolishness;
although I claim nothing, I have everything.
No villas in Hollywood with a big screen and pool,
no ranches on the wild prairies of Southern Texas,
no suites on the Upper East Side* or Greenpoint,*
only a studio in Queens*where I write and compose.
Cynosure can enrich or even destroy someone's life,
it's a light we are attracted to, its brilliance is delusive;
and following any dream we must stay on the same path,
not diverge and go astray to find something so destructible.
Many have a cynosure for arts, others for law and science;
whatever your vocation is: follow it and be very successful,
on the contrary, the majority of us must settle for much less,
leading a normal life and raise children who'll become leaders.
Let your cynosure for contentment fill you with great delights,
learn from the wise and the smart, choose wisdom and life;
drink wine, celebrate each given moment with sheer thrill,
and despite your rank, you can't be denied the joy of living.
* Upper East Side: New York City
* Greenpoint: Brooklyn, NY
* Queens: one of the four counties
which make up NY City
Written on 6/27/2016
I can tell you of the most infamous thing that happened to me.
It occurred while I was hiding in Sicily.
For persons I should trust, there is always room for doubt.
If offered enough money, that can sell me out.
I loved Apolllonia very much. She was a wonderful wife.
My bodyguard planted a bomb in our car that took her life.
This happened shortly after the death of my brother Santino.
Informers traced the whereabouts of that culprit named Fabrizio.
It was discovered that Fabrizio quickly emigrated away.
He was now dwelling in Brooklyn here in the U.S.A.
I want someone very good to plant a bomb in his car.
When he turns the ignition key, he will not go far.
Based on the novel "The Godfather" by the late Mario Puzo
When I was growing up in Brooklyn,
Which was way back when,
We’d always get just what we needed
In the Five and Ten:
Cosmetics, stockings, pots and pans,
Greeting cards and games;
Curtains, tablecloths and vases,
Clothes and picture frames.
Sundries (who knew what they were?),
45’s and candy;
Mops and brooms and other things
A housewife would have handy.
It was fun to browse the aisles
With friends right after school,
And sometimes have a malted
Sitting on a fountain stool.
The Five and Tens have shut their doors;
New stores cannot compare.
I sometimes need an item
That I can’t find anywhere.
Of course, there is the internet
To help me in my search,
But in the Five and Dime, I’d never
Be left in the lurch.
Most everything written
(and learned ya in school)
Yukon coon sitter, (and bet
your bottom dollar) tibia bunch
of contrived information
all details bu...bu...bull...low knee
within this poetic missive
after spending a lifetime crunch
ching numbers, the following
singularly just my hunch,
but despite minuscule
approximate i.e. kid size lunch
meal, (sans two clenched fists,
and weighing about 1.5 kilograms),
not much to munch,
yet if smacked in the kisser
by a pugilist visited
square in the jaw deadly (Judy hush
hiss) sucker punch
whereby the unlucky
recipient may see "unlucky stars"
after brows severely scrunched,
thee above poppycock, and potentially
"FAKE" though (Ripley deed lee)
believe able to ye,
nonetheless behooves me
to segue-way (by Segway) to pre
sent a "TRUE" revelation see
(gnome hatter, aye
cheese silly contradict
mice elf alias Stuart Little) prithee
please just accept what I write
with a grain of salt
(from the Sultan Sea),
cuz yawl do yarself grave
injury and lodge a gree
vance against this harmless
right ham handed cree
chore from the outer limits
of the twilight zone, thus
I STRONGLY ADVISE thee,
NOT to stake eh knee
un mensch chin hubble cogitation,
and figuratively swallow,
hook, conga line
and sinker thine highly suspect re
dunk yule us gobbledygook mee
cully (meekly) reed this
more so asthma
childish entertainment, hence oak key
jist put aside any urgent task
to revel as sigh bee
devil logical syntax
with sum man tricks
playfully wasting yar
precious time free
cully (freakily) inventing outlandish nee
incoherent yawping, towering,
and brutally butchering,
Brooklyn speak (homer over
mayor later mother), she
nearly always... er added
letters "er" at'er the ender
her sentences - er stain?