New York City Poems - Poems about New York City

New York City Jungle

Aisha was fierce and sensuous
and belonged on Broadway
she knew what she wanted
and was bound to get her way



AP: Honorable Mention 2025

In a New York City minute

another weekday
she awakens
to the sunrise aroma of
preset coffee brewing

her eyes still closed
she thinks about her day
and slowly starts to form
thoughts in her head

so much to do
so little time
a jolt of java
revs up the engine

give her a minute
she'll come to life
another sip
and there it is

it's all systems go!



AP: 1st place 2025

East River Esplanade

We emerged from Grand Central Station, 
Both ill, alarmed at our situation
Like two invaders, erupting forth
My twin went south, and I went North
I jaywalked reckless nearly hit by a car.
Then saw a bridge over the FDR

I wondered what price would be paid 
On autopilot, I came on to the Esplanade
The pavement was wide, hexagonal tiled
The

Poems About New York City

Concrete Jungle Dreams
midst the towering giants,

The silver and glass behemoths,
I walk, a speck of dust
In the grand scheme of life.
Their shadows cast upon me,
As I tread the well-worn paths,
Stepping over the cracks in the pavement,
My breath misting in the frigid air.
The City that never sleeps,
Her beating heart in sync with mine,
Each pulse a reminder of

New York City Rats

Rotting eggs, fish, moldy pasta, and meat
Mixed with the odor of damp rodent fur.
The garbage in bags is lining the street.
New York  is a city beyond compare.

The food that's thrown feeds a population,
Not for people, but for rats everywhere.
Well-fed and moving are these three million
Who run down sidewalks without any care.

The mayor has found

Big Apple

I grew tired of those Montana mountains
was ready to give up that life for good
So I packed up my kit and kaboodle
and headed off to a new neighborhood

They loaded me onto this cattle car
went flying faster’n poop through a goose.
Then we skidded down in New York City
the place that is famous for their big fruit

That

5th Avenue Sunrise

jampacked city streets
that jangled and banged
in the raucous jarring day
shifted
from business to boogaloo
squeezing into moonlight
party lights
gin and lime-kissed
gimlet sequined dress
strutted
in studded six-inch heels
riveting flair
provoking jive and jazzy nights
to tame this lion of New York

The bed swallowed the evening
sucked-up in slumbered
sobering snooze
exhaling the drunkard’s stench
while the warmth of whiskey
and you next to me
laid dreamy still

popped up

The Eleventh Day of September

The Eleventh Day of September


I had cherished the dream of walking up and down the endless lanes and avenues
Of a city celebrated for its illustrious and peaceful intensity and universal fame.
The images still vivid in the memories of my young mind trying to escape the blues
Of a dreary life and seeking adventure in a distant

Stranger In Egoli

"Stranger in Egoli"

Not right to feel lost in a city of vices, they judge you therefore you are a victim.

She creams for her purse ,
He screams  for his jacket,
Bloody panties on the sidewalk,
Last month the hood rats engulfed him!

I cannot understand what they say though we speak the same language!

My eyes do not sparkle

Crooklyn

Brooklyn, New York is my hometown,
There's always something going down.

So many different places, Religions, and races,
Walking so fast you'll only get a glimpse of their faces.

A huge melting pot located in the County of Kings,
Where the sirens of firetrucks, ambulances, and cop cars sing.

Good Old Brooklyn, where the great times never end,
There's a Pub or

El Dorado

El Dorado
by Michael R. Burch

It's a fine town, a fine town,
though its alleys recede into shadow;
it's a very fine town for those who are searching
for an El Dorado.

Because the lighting is poor and the streets are bare
and the welfare line is long,
there must be something of value somewhere
to keep us hanging on
to our El Dorado.

Though

Central Park South

Someones Grandma on a bench
I passed her everyday
Sharing the crumbs she begged for
With every passing stray
Once I heard her mumble
'Someone killed my Kitty'
I don't want to get lost in
New York City

All of the things she used to love
Were written on her face
Laughter and song were everything
Another time and place
A place where in her dreams
She still

The Friendly Stranger At Orange Street

One day at a New york city shop,
I met a man selling marbles,
For money he wanted to swap,
But I really wanted some barbels.

"Got any barbels?" asked I.
"For that's how I'll spend my money."
"No barbels here!" said the guy.
He seemed to find it quite funny.

"We've got some lovely cakes,
I'll give you a very fine price."
"I'd rather

Tar Beaches

searing summer sun
tarpaper rooftop beaches
city sunbathing

Brisk Autumn Night

Stepping out onto the not-so-bustling street,
I feel a cold nip in the air radiate a shiver down my spine.
There is an emptiness to the evening.
It is an emptiness one experiences on a brisk autumn evening.

The ambiance is muffled and static.
Hardly a whisper could be heard save for the tapping of my pointed toes on cracked

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