Long Historycity Poems
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With excitement, and hearts beating with anticipation
Five of us held hands...as if declaring, "We're in this together!"...
We sped upwards,..into the clouds,...or so it seemed....
Enclosed in a silver capsule...like amateur astronauts, ...
A steel and concrete world of modern, miraculous, and amazing engineering!
Nervously, we looked at one another with the same wide eyed expressions.
"We are such country bumpkins!...."Do we look it?" I laughingly asked my husband....
"Hey, kids ! We're almost there...can you believe it??"
"We're almost to the top!!"
A soft spoken gentleman, wearing a bushy, yet neatly trimmed, mustache,
smiled and said to us...."Your first time, I can see?"..
He wore a uniform, (our host, a guide, I supposed)....he had the kindest smile.
"If you like,....I can point out places of interest for your children?"...he offered kindly.
Our three children nodded in delight.
Doors opened at last, and we stepped into a large room
We made our way through the milling crowd, and found a spot for observation.
Our mustached gentleman, chuckled when we gasped for air
As we looked for the first time at the breathtaking views
It was if we were looking down from the heavens...
City lights had just turned on, and we knew what it was like to look upon the stars...
Only, this time, they were below us...!
A magnificent city spread out before our eyes...
stunned, and speechless, we were breathless...
Our new friend pointed out Ellis Island, the bridges, Statue of Liberty...
"Oh yes", ....he said,...."over there, ....you can see almost into New Jersey"
"And there,...that is Staten Island. "Do you see the ferry?"
He charmed our young daughter, and impressed our sons with his knowledge..
Here we stood...on top of the world...inside this magnificent twin marvel....
Oh, dear God.....our innocence....who could know...?
Oh, dear God....the significance ....
one brief moment in time....
spent in the company of one kind gentleman who wore a friendly mustache
We will never forget that day................or him................. Oh, dear God....
~
Dedicated to a kind stranger....
____________________________
In honor of New York City at Dusk
A bit I have travelled, in the cities of this world
Each with a history – a tale that can be told
Through the lens of the roving tourist’s eye
Who often does, with some wonder, sigh
As an ancient tableau in a busy modern street
He does - camera-ready – with much awe greet
Or into a monument with a stellar, glorious past
He might saunter and wonder about the cast
Of characters who had with much energy wrought
The fame and fortune that has become the city’s lot
Or from the imposing zenith of its top-most spire
A city view, its history and legacy admire.
But no town has moved me to so much awe
Than, when from Waverley first I saw
The pomp and grandeur of Edinburgh city
A modern tribute to antiquity.
And though it has moved along with the times
Through its buildings and festivals, history chimes
For each brick and cobblestone is filled with the lore
Of a Gaelic people in the days of yore.
Not a castle, but a city straddling many a precipice
For the architect, it most definitely is sheer bliss
To career down streets that plunge like ravines
And gaze up at spires that greet the heavens
From the castle, the artist, photographer or poet
Can never cease to admire this most splendid set
The numerous shades of brown, black, green and blue
As he gazes down at an all-embracing tableau
Of craggy rock way beyond the deep-blue firth
And architecture of immense historic worth
And meadows with vast blankets of green
That add to the city’s aura, its majestic sheen
‘Tis little wonder then, that simple, mere mortals
Were by this city inspired to open the portals
Of ideas, dictums and ambitions in depth incredible
That they have, on history, made marks just as indelible
As the ones this “alternation in height and depth” has made
On every visitor who has, at least for a brilliant day stayed
And listened to piping bands tell many diverse stories
Of a city from which he will take away magnificent memories.
Form:
Outside he walks
along the streets
where a legend was born
and lived in his hometown
of Baltimore
Yes, none other than Babe Ruth
Standing there alone
in front of his birth place
he daydreams into the past
of how it once was
and how it is now
but more of how it was
The poet's memory
is focus and he
hear's the roar
of the crowd at the stadium
cheering on their home team
But the cheers stands
for more than just a game
played to him they represented
the establishment for their city
of Baltimore
He walks along the streets
daydreaming of the stepball
games he use to play in
and watching the girls
playing jacks in front
of the house on the stone steps
Yes, the children laughter
reminds him of how it use
to be
Waking in the morning
to the smell of scraphle
served over eggs
A tradition without an end
The poet's memory focus,
he recalls once being a native
of Baltimore
He daydreams of the peddlers
riding down the streets
Horses pulling their wagons
full with the hometown famous
foods for sell
Crates and baskets
full of all kinds of sea foods
Crabs cooked and steamed,
sometimes brewed in pots
of beer, shrimps raw
and cooked, plenty of fish
Yes, a grand place to him
where his pride stands out
The city teaches him he
is welcome
as they prepare their feast
for the people to buy
and enjoy
The past insist to surface
on his return home
Memories of what once was
and what is now but more of
what was then
Looking into his past
where his roots lies
He didn't forget his strolls
along the Harbor there forever
resting Fort Mc Henry
there caresses in the warmth
of Spring a fortress
once protected by it's cannons
The site memories of home
Full-scale warfare precipitates between two factions.
Many men tumble because of these actions.
What really started this thing, I do not know.
Both sides want to control the City of Chicago.
Police crack down on illegal gambling.
They are also after prostitution and bootlegging.
Within the city government, there is corruption and scandal.
It appears there is an excess for them to handle.
As far as citizens like us, things are not too fine.
They are as bad as ever in February 1929.
I heard many shots ringing out downstairs this morning.
A massive bloodbath has taken place without warning.
They say there are seven men lying face down on the floor.
The culpable individuals are not around anymore.
The responsible killers absconded without being seen.
The aftermath of this action is a most horrible scene.
On this Valentine’s Day morning, we are seeing too much red.
Seven members of Bugs Moran’s gang are now dead.
ARCHAEOLOGY FIELD-TRIP JANUARY 29 TH 3011 - PART I
In this windy coastal location the interesting thing is that
1000 years ago this unlikely spot was a huge city.
Where we see the forests and swamps now -
Was a large city which we’ve called simply Bayville.
Nature has reclaimed it, as it has all ancient civilizations.
Last month we looked at the Aztec and Mayan cities.
This month we have come further north
And we are examining the Euro-latin civilization
Which came to an abrupt end
About 1000 years ago, for unknown reasons;
Although evidence suggests that there was
A climatic change which gradually
Turned fertile farmlands hereabouts into deserts,
And there was a series of devastating earthquakes
Which hit the city each year for several years.
(NOTE: Part II of this poem follows immediately in the list of poems)
There is a city in Europe where Romans do dwell
The beginning of which must have been hell
Founded by twins once sentenced to die
And nursed by a she-wolf. They came to defy
The horrible uncle that tried to destroy
The peace that would come from the twin boys
Afraid they would one day steal his thrown
He sentenced their deaths, but they lived on unknown
Till one day they learned who they truly were
And marched an army to kill the cur
After his death the twins disagreed
They decided on a contest-The winner succeeds-
Romulus started a city of his own
But Remus was angered at being alone
He hopped right over his brother’s moat
And was slain on the spot, or so it was wrote
Romulus became King of the Lands
And built many things with his two hands
The Senate and Rome can be credited to him
Quite a lot from someone whose life was so grim
Men have searched throughout history
For a city made of gold
So much in fact it has become legendary
This city that has yet to unfold
Some have even died I am told.
The story says, a chief had an initiation
Covered in gold dust and jumping
A lake bottom became his situation
Now known as the golden king
Where is El Dorado they would sing?
Legends grew from a king to a city
Spaniards knew this gold had to be won
Expeditions to discover it were plenty
One such Conquistador even discovered the Amazon
Female warriors there had them on the run.
If you have not guessed this legend yet
It is El Dorado or City of Cibola
That all were searching to get
Nicholas Cage tried finding it in the cinema
A fake explorer made the most pesetas.