A kraken with red wings
Arrived in town, claiming a talent to sing
Lions roared with delight
Wanting to see, such an entertaining frozen water sight
Tigers seemed all right
Knowing their King was in the spotlight
Showing gridiron might
“You may need a rod and reel
That is how a mariner would deal
With this monstrous catch
In the oceans the fisherman needs to fetch”
Watching the seahawks
Stalk
The fishes
With wishes
Accompanied by tartar sauce dishes
Lions got into their car
Left the motor city bar
Engine pistons spewing flames
Supersonic attitude instigating power playing games
Deep into the night air
A Friday night audience relaxed enjoying the affair
Preparing for a scare
That could turn Jay Blue
Challenging the Canadians ‘are you through?”
No matter which two
Find the winning score
Belting one out having the American championship floor
How pretty
is the motor city
under neon diodes?
I sent my heart
into its stars
exhaled my soul
into rustbelt smoke
maybe I’ve lost my mind
or rather it’s left behind
my sanity abandoned
and blighted
my memories subjected
to successive evictions
—just up and forget ‘em—
I guess the city could
enlighten me a bit
on resilience
Your Choice T Poetry Contest: Sponsored by Brian Strand (April/May 2025)
all time classic soul
music from a poor man’s son
turn that volume up
for the motor city sound
now everything is alright
Spruced, cleaned up, did up
It's been ages or so of corruption erupt
As yet, making heads or tails of disrupt
What could have been, a city of brotherly love
From, we will never blink free of
The once boom town of olden days, forgotten
With its forsaken downtrodden
Reflection of shattered wind hum
And vanished forebears, begotten
Times --News flash hearing
Bouncing back, itty-bitty
Fordtown, Motor City
Rousing, awakening, breathing
The start of a new beginning
Know-how, patcher uppers, mending
Casing, coating, covering
The fractured wounds of di-TRITE, history
By and by, one and all to see
That you're recovering so forth, to be
Time will camouflage all of thee
Leftover wounds, fade and shade
Generous amount, lipstick, paint, masquerade
To feather back in, the once decried
And find character domain with pride
No sense in holding, something, blurring
Expectation is in the purifying
Smell the wild breeze of futurity
Witness the buds blooming
And a sea of new faces developing
Promising, a forgetful time of *Big D* nebulous dreary
It's the Motor City
Motor Capital of the World
Fordtown
Motown
Hockeytown
It's lying in shards
Like olden Rome
Love among the ruins
With an abrasive outside layer
Of exhaust looks and horrendous faces
It's Rock City
Automobile City
Arsenal of Democracy
Big D
City of Straits
It's a rough, tumble, sports purgatory
Joe Louis pondering
Gordie Howe wondering
Ty Cobb mad as hell
Joe Schmidt praying
What are they yet
Lords of dust
And their inscriptions
However characters
Written in the clean
Desolated by time
Ambushed by flicker
And apparitions of the past
What was at one time, a magnificent sanctuary
Standing glad and solid
Detroit, Detroit
Yesterday is still today
And it's tomorrow, as of now
I adore you still, hi and farewell
The Lords of Detroit, looking down
Welcome to the Motown Motor City,
asphalt carpet ghetto grind
Automated fated urban living,
everyday inner-city surviving
Hard mean streets handing out no pity,
sharpens perceptive razor minds
Last stop underground freedom giving,
all-day Exodus gospel arriving
Factory-built hearts living manufactured dreams
Black Bottom be a lowly place to start,
Paradise Valley is a forgotten vision now a-rising
Assembly line tough, steel mental parts
Perseverance is Detroit revival defined,
no assembly required
Citizens report any municipal malfeasance
Just another urban spiritual capital gain,
congregation assembly required
Motown cars moving on a heavenly transport train
But you must be counted in attendance thereof,
to know the love song we were singing
God helped us to overcome every paved obstacle
There once was a gal from motor city
who drove a Prius to give her celebrity.
Her guy drove a Ford
and cursed her “Oh, Lord!”
Their divorce was a forgone necessity!
Their children, a boy and a girl,
took sides and gave each car a whirl.
The girl took the Ford
the boy took the Concorde?
Both lost control and hit a squirrel?
Mom and Dad, Madge and Lars said “Good grief!”
You two kids, “Go get jobs, BUY A Leaf!!!
ride a bike, or a tyke
row a boat, take a hike
"Give the keys over please. You’re relieved!”
*The kids names were Boris and Natasha ;)
My name is Loreen Parke and I’m from Detroit City.
I’m quick. My Mom calls me ‘Slick’
My friends say I’m Witty.
No wants. No warrants. No priors.
No dirty deals. Strictly cash buyers.
I’m a very busy woman with no time to waste.
I’ve got Big Dreams, High Hopes & Expensive Taste.
Think slow. Talk fast.
My connections are tight.
My options are vast.
Just like the ‘Kid’ I’ve got my ‘ghetto pass.’
I grew up here. This is my home town.
These are the blocks that I’ve been around.
Don’t think you can show up and start changing the rules on my play ground.
That won't fly. The bottom of the Detroit River is where you’ll be found.
This is Detroit. The Motor City. The One and Only Motown.
This is where I grew up. This is my Home Town.
Loreen Parke
May 22nd, 2004
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