Manhattan Poems - Poems about Manhattan

Finding Manhattan

My reflection is a stranger’s mirror, blurred and shifting. 
Maybe she’s someone I used to know,
or a shadow of who I’m slowly becoming.
A ghost caught between past and future.

Uncontrollable, like a storm rising without warning.
Unrecognizable, as if seen through cracked glass.

Angry flames flicker behind tired eyes,
broken fragments scattered across a fragile soul,
fearful whispers echoing in

3rd wheeling

(A Christmas vacation vignette)

Lisa and I choppered onto Manhattan Island yesterday morning. We’d both felt toasted—so we took naps—and yay! We awoke recharged.

Later that evening, Lisa and I were at the ‘Elsie’ Rooftop Bar, in Manhattan, waiting for Lisa’s boyfriend, David.
Ok, man-friend? More age appropriate I suppose, he’s 27, but that description doesn’t have the

When in Manhattan

One way to tell a tourist
In the New York City scene
Is if someone on a corner waits
Until the light turns green.

For natives look both ways, of course,
And if no traffic’s there,
They cross against the light or else
Mid-block, without a care.

This always was illegal, yet
We locals would insist
That the law was so ignored it seemed
It didn’t

almost here

Paris is so beautiful, that it’s emotional,
like the red tile roofs of Rome,
or the Kenroku-en gardens of Japan.

It’s a relatively large world.
Whenever you can fly over an ocean
you feel limitless, and godly,
like the world is there for you, on demand.

Speaking of God-like views, I’m headed
to Lisa’s (parents) Manhattan highrise again
this year for Thanksgiving—six, very-long days
from

Manhattan madness

TS Eliot said, “Paris is a strong stimulant.”
It is - but it has nothing on Manhattan.
If Paris is a Café Crème espresso at a café-en-terrasse under the stars.
Manhattan is a ‘Black Tie Bawls’ cocktail at The Crown bar (the skyline!).

We were going to relax - in Manhattan,
instead, keep those seat belts fastened.
Lisa said, one night,

Let's poeticize

Students everywhere feel a close relationship with summer. It develops early and you never lose it. It’s durable.

Le’ts  poeticize..
It was a youthful summer of unblemished mirth.
In play, our youthful hours were freely spent.
We bore such idleness - we were indulgent.
Until Lisa confessed, she was less so content
and longed desperately for a ‘wholesome reunion’
with her

Unpremeditated Manhattan

Their meeting, first time, was merry.
The flip from her lips, bit airy.
   Her drink could sink ships.
   She takes sip and quips,
“Would you like to eat my cherry?”

The White Line

Ever snorted cocaine? 
I watched some partiers snort cocaine last night,
in a dark, Manhattan nightclub corner celebration.
But I’ve never crossed that line. The white line.

When offered some, with unctuous camaraderie, 
I shrugged and said, “No, sorry, I’m allergic.” 
What are you supposed to say, “Crack is whack,” 
or “I prefer my coke with rum and

At Age Seventeen

*** At Age Seventeen ***

At 17, the wooden heels of my boots echoed
My audacious immaturity along my entire way 
    exploring
Manhattan’s south-end area.  Its long blocks, I routed 
For the reason of simply seeing.

In the route I took through that then unknown section,
My young lack of any preparation was foolishly profound,
Although

Gazes

Leong's watching TikTok on her laptop (as always) and she asks Lisa (an NYC girl) “Are you familiar with the the “downtown girl” aesthetic?”
Lisa’s dismissive, “Yeah, it just looks like Urban Outfitters grunge to me.”
Leong explains, “It includes headphones and it’s supposed to be a Lower Manhattan style.”
“Yeah,” Lisa snorts, “Because Greenwich Village and the

Manhattan

Manhattan
By LoLa

The neverending cascade of looming city skylines
Towering strangers captures her gaze and her hands
Attempts to lift the veil from abandoned timelines
Leaves her breathless where A Phantom Hurricane stands

Relenting to the light from the cracks in her heart
Beating to frequencies of screams in the city
A lifeless stare where frenetic signals depart
Swelling with the blood of

Manhattan Rhapsody

Merciless movement
Atonal antipathy
Nonsensical noise

clarinet crescendo
soaring above
the collided cityscape

Harried hordes
Aggravating acrimony
Terrifying tumult

piano playing
plaintively over
the primal phantasmagoria

Torrid traffic
Alienated aliens
Nihilistic neon

soaring strings
singing through
the striking scenery

Manhattan Manahatta Memories

Upon my asking a lone Lenape
what happened to their tribal home;
so soulful that he barely told me
the tragic tale of how it had gone.

The white man thought he coyly took it
a thing that he cannot ever own.
It's lost and changed, cracked crooked
what will happen next, remains unknown.

Our sense of self, of our longhouse fires
this "hilly

Manhattan Madness

        
         
             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

Early Morning In Manhattan

Eight million people living here
Yet on my morning walk,
Deserted streets provided
Not a thing at which to gawk.

Behind each window there were souls
In various routines – 
Asleep or in the shower
Or engaged in breakfast scenes.

I marveled at the emptiness
In such a busy place
Where no one moseys, but proceeds
At a frenetic pace.

Yet not in early morning
For it

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