Long Nyc Poems
Long Nyc Poems. Below are the most popular long Nyc by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nyc poems by poem length and keyword.
This envisioning is so cliché
It is making my cheeks so rosé:
A lightly tanned brunette couple
Walking through alleys so unsupple...
Above their handholding and umbrellas,
In the pouring rain, walking among fellas.
Then suddenly he stops and turns to her,
Drops his umbrella and kisses ever deeper.
But it's just all a New York City fantasy,
A reality that may or may never come to be.
All I can see is he and I having coffee,
Then an electro swing song sets me free.
Indeed it is a hope and dream all so cliché,
As a hopeless romantic can't help it anyway.
Maybe he's more than someone new,
Maybe someday we'll share a few.
Have you ever lived in a tall building? Dawn strikes suddenly and irradiates these glass-walled, high-rise rooms. Lisa showed me how quickly the thick windows - if you press your face against them - go from cold to warm in the morning's stark glare.
On the streets below, beneath the horizon, darkness remains
as if there were, briefly, two worlds separate but side by side -
one, a night place and the other bleached in fierce sunbeams.
The rooms have no curtains, just motorized shades that go up and down as needed - but in reality, they’re always up. Central Park is the only thing across the street and we’re so high up (50th floor) no one can see in. It’s odd, dressing in uncurtained, glass lined rooms or bathing in curtain-less bathrooms - there’s a titillating freedom to it.
I find myself imagining that we’re angels floating in the clouds,
looking down upon man and his creations - but then I’m reminded,
by vertigo or by digging a charger out of my luggage, that I’m just
a mortal, sporting a temporary visa to this high-rise heaven.
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ps
In proofing this before posting it, I had to smirk at how,
of all the qualities of high-rise life, I wrote about the
curtain-less feature and I wonder if that paints me either
a p3rv or a prude. I even debated deleting it, but *shrug*
You waited in line
Cause your we're
Next
That's an idea
l situation I am told
What shiney ain't
For me me
Cause I am dull
And spent
Excuse me Sir
Is that gold
I reckon I 'll
Just mossey
Along quote'en
Them words to
That cuss word song
By the way
All that glitter ain't gold
What want from me
Cause he so po'
Get his checks from
His chore
That ain't no money
That's tween me and you
Talking rich and acting poor
Got your Gal out acting like-ah
Whore: talking bout
place we go knee high I q!
Ya'll know the sequence y'all
Meet her in spring
She pregnant in fall
Pappie someone's else's
Niegh I go I ate ooh ooh!
That's how it is
Ain't nothings changed
Oh the ancient
Still arrange
Talking in tongues when
Sunday morning comes
Freaking fellas
By the time the service
Is through
Snitching in like gals
Current and future bride
Tryna make everyone say
Quasi motto neigh IQ
Frigid temperatures filled the square
Rigid opponents chilled the air
Deriding him a radical socialist
Unbridling the race to get him off a ballot list
The city was arm in arm, in protest daily
Whites, Blacks, Arab and Israeli
and what came up to all’s surprise
Mayor elect—Mamdani’s rise
Along came the 112th Mayor elect
Strong spent are the people who'd select
Lines stretched around doters
Awaiting hours were his voters
Indulges in a city reborn it’s bagels and lox
Sworn in over the subway station docks
Hand upon Islam’s holy text
A marvel of a man who’ll govern next
Swearing words of conviction and not of pity
I swear, to bolster and defend this dynamic city
Mayor Mamdani
promises New York City ~
a hopeful journey
New Year's Day
1/1/26
The elevator opened on the 46th floor, to a small foyer and one plain, grey door
The door opened and a young girl, 10ish, in a blue, polo, tennis dress, said, “Hi! I’m Karen, you must be Anais. Will is around here somewhere. Aren’t you pretty, though? You go to school with Lisa? No wonder Will likes you.”
She skippingly ushered me from a bright, windowed, off-white, staircase entryway, into a deep-red, mahogany paneled library. A persian cat was soon underfoot, purring and winding around my legs.”That’s Misha,” Karen said, “just shoo her away if you don’t like cats.”
I stooped down to pet Misha who eagerly offered herself to be petted and admired. As I stroked her charcoal fur, Karen said, “Let me get Will,” as she scampered off.
A gold framed, impressionistic painting, pin-lit in bright crystalline light, hung over a fireplace. In the painting, two girls, in summer hats bright with startling red bows and yellow flowers, were sharing a book. The colors were rich, deep and swirling - it looked very much like a Renoir (I know my French artists). He’d done a whole “two girls” series. I drew closer - it wasn’t a print.
Though dazed by the opulence, I hadn’t missed what Karen had said. Will liked me. I longed to interrogate her about how exactly she knew Will liked me, and what form, exactly, Will’s liking took.
I know Will and Lisa (who would be joining us in a minute) are just friends. Not that it matters, we’re heading back to New Haven later - but Karen’s statements were capable of activating a girl's guy-dar.
Karen, wearing socks but no shoes, came to a sliding halt, on the wooden floor, by grabbing the door frame to stop an otherwise complete slide into the library. “You guys are going to the Ritz for lunch?” she asked, looking back over her shoulder, in a way that indicated that she knew the answer quite well.
The Ritz Carlton is a block away and our mission was to grab the food and bring it back here to eat. “Mind if I join?” she said, before I could answer her first question, all wide-eyed, blinking impatience.
“I don’t mind at ALL.” I said, Karen whooped and was off again down the hall. “I’M COMING TOO!” she yelled. I chuckled, knowingly - I’ve been there - I’m a little sister too.
They say I inflated
It's they that conflated
Political lies with their version of facts.
The mess they created
Will long be debated
Another attempt to silence and styme.
As often I've stated
Which leaves them frustrated
I'm worth every cent of the Billions I claim.
The reason I'm fated
And by some surely hated
Is my obvious success and the money I make.
Letitia's now grated
Quite a bit aggravated
That her bark is so hollow with clearly no bite.
Not one to be intimidated
My strength celebrated
Let them throw what they will and watch it dissolve.
My lawyers are rated
This case armor plated
Watch these bogus new charges soon dissipate.
In the meantime I've slated
For the fans I've created
More rallies to drive my winning points home.
I'm buoyed and elated
Evermore motivated
For the White house to bask in my presence once more.
One, two, three, four
Hardwood seeds planted on the floor
Trying to get to the final round
Championship bound
Who is your pick?
Cavs or Knicks
Garden parties are always filled with fame
WKRP broadcasted CBS’s Street manipulated game
Late night tape delayed
News wondered if Vietnam POWs completed the trade
Newly launched ESPN, soon took charge
Captaining the NBA barge
Cruising a hoop dream
Love Boat holiday network floated up stream
While Peacock’s spurs shine
Thundering, shaking the western spine
Enjoying an entertaining time
That cannot be declined
Or denied
Since the audience will find
Two winners survive
Not saying their seasonal goodbyes
Wanting to extend
And defend
The scoring message they send
Larry O’Brien’s trophy is for the best
Acknowledging acing basketballs premier climatic spring test
‘We are the champions’ winners will sing
Sporting awarded new flashy rings
Say senora to the winter blues
And welcome summer leagues with air condition that is cool
It’s Tuesday morning. I’d thought, until Leeza corrected me, that Thanksgiving was today.
“Thanksgiving always falls on Thursday, dorkus,” Leeza said Sunday, at breakfast (extirpating my hopes). “Besides, notice we haven’t been cooking?” She added.
“Good point.” I chuckled disappointedly.
Later, Lisa, Leeza and I had just got back from the pool where we saw John Krasinski and Emily Blunt. Leeza told me that Paramount studios has a condo, somewhere - on the 29th floor - where celebs stay (When you don’t know where something is, it’s on the mysterious 29th floor). Peter missed it. He didn’t join us because it’s a saltwater pool and it stings his warm but delicate, deep brown eyes.
I wondered what Peter was doing - push-ups on the balcony or something probably. Who knew he exercised so much? There’s a whole state-of-the-art gym but he likes exercising outdoors. I checked and yeah, there he was, on the balcony in the 46° wind, doing curls or something with elastic bands.
I sipped on some of Karen’s (Lisa & Leeza’s mom) nummy spiced-cinnamon-apple-cider and watched him for a few delicious minutes. Peter really is kind of fire, I decided. Then I popped my head out, “Come shower, Lisa wants to go out,” I announced. He just nodded and began packing up. I ran for my room to shower first (we share a shower).
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Webster: Extirpate: “to destroy completely”
Slang..
dorkus = clueless moron
fire = hot, exciting, greater than normal great*
One day I took the subway
and I went around the world
From one car to another
a new nation’s flag unfurled
The train took off from Brooklyn
and I hopped on at Times Square
and by the time that I got home
I’d been most everywhere
The couple that spoke Yiddish,
and hurried on their way
were deep in conversation
which she ended with, “Oy vey.”
And then I heard some talking
that turned out was Portuguese
At first I thought was Spanish
might as well been legalese
Rushing through the last three cars
so packed, I had to squeeze
I heard an “Arigatou”
which I know is Japanese
“La vita non è facile”
I smiled because I knew
The woman spoke Italian
and the meaning came right through
Then right before I exited
the girl who dropped her toy
Said “Shukran,” as she took it
from the little Arab boy
There aren’t many places
you can hear a language mix
After work, around the world
and still be home by six
Last night, Lisa, Peter, Leeza and I were in her father’s 50th floor study watching New York City. It’s a corner room with glass walls from floor to ceiling. He likes to watch the city himself and has a small, 5 seat sectional couch facing the view.
The left wall window looks across Hell’s Kitchen to exactly where Sully Sullenberger crash landed flight 1549 in the Hudson river (it was 3:31 pm and no one was home). The right window overlooks Central Park and Upper Manhattan. Lincoln Center, almost dead center of the corner, looks like part of a toy train-set.
The view is a wheeling, ever changing and mesmerizing panorama. Well lit ships, barges and boats move glacially against the ink black Hudson. Jets in expressway-like holding patterns (Newark Liberty, and Teterboro airports left window - LaGuardia, right window) blink, like waving angels, helicopters buzz below like insects and the traffic, far, far below, forms a living chain of red and white lights which can erupt with nugatory hues of police blue at any moment.
While we watch, we’re playing a game of “Would you rather.” It’s a game of situational trade-offs, like “Would you rather listen to the same 10 songs forever or have to watch the same 5 movies forever? Of course, most people say the movies - because they last longer and there would be fewer repeats.
We take turns asking these critical questions - pausing, occasionally, to point out things below.
“Would you rather be in a crowded elevator with a bunch of noisy high school students or pinned in with a bunch of judgemental, middle aged men? The girls chose the students, even though high schoolers can be mean. Peter chose to be with the men.
“Would you rather find your true love or a suitcase with 5 million dollars?” We all chose love.
“Would you rather hike or camp?” Both were unpopular if they involved going to the bathroom outside - which creeps the girls out.
“Would you rather give up your computers or your pets (forever)?” THAT was a stressful one.
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My movies: Clueless, Rushmore, Moonstruck, Shakespeare in love, Dr. Zhivago