Nyc Poems

Playing the Cello in my NYC apartment

Play the Cello my fellow.
The music floats into a mellow.
The light glistens on the chandelier.
Twinkle twinkle here and near.
The blue sofa perched close to the window.
Looking inward at the doggy below.
The books float on a tableau.
Giving enlightenment to whoever seeks them solo.
The records lay flat on the hardwood floor.
Scratched and scarred to never play a

NYC Fantasy

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

Around the World

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,

Ode to NYC

I gave my heart away to you
On the night that new year drew
The Sinatra chimes and yellow vines
Sleeplessly anew

City of dreams, built on piano keys
And indie structures melodies
I left my heart in San Francisco**
But i stole it back for you


**this is a reference to Tony Bennett i hold no rights to this line

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

Nyc - Paris

Peter, Charles and I were jetting our way to Paris. I’d just woken up. I had to pee so badly it woke me up. It was a medical emergency. I stretched and everything hurt, I felt like I was 30.

Peter was sitting next to me, on the aisle, reading. When he saw me stretch, he

Little Island NYC

Two emeralds; copper eyes, fixated on the Atlantic
The Hudson; jades woke by fairies to her feet, so frantic
My view; is vantage, a little island on pillars, so historic
Gotham the east connection; of an oasis oh so prolaphoric
The horse shoe; welcomes performances theatric
Paths of endless connections; made by cobblestone brick
A Metropolis candle; burning at both ends

Oldies

I’m laughing this morning, spontaneously. We’re not studying any more. Our sophomore school year is over. I’m giddy, giggling, like a 9 year old on sugar.
I think I just finished the hardest class that I’ll ever take - my last pure-math class, ever - and I got an “A.” Just barely - by two-hundredths of

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

See Short Stories - Merritt and the Power of Charm

My latest piece is -1600 characters too long for the poetry section (sigh)

So it's under short stories. The URL is:

www.poetrysoup.com/short_stories/merritt_and_the_power_of_charm_10833
 
I hope you like it.

Tuesday

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

Corners

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

I Posted a New Short Story Called: Stupid

My latest piece is 388 characters too long for the poetry section.

So, I posted it in "Short Stories" (Other sites don't have this limit)

Here's the link...

www.poetrysoup.com/short_stories/stupid_10822

If you bother, I hope you like it

Turducken Baby

Midterms are over
I’m coming up for air
now that they’re done
I’ll admit I was scared
- that physics three -
was nearly the death of me.

What comes next? 
The Manhattan express
for November recess
some November excess
with Lisa, my BFF princess,
my doughty, NYC adventuress,
I’m blessed, she’s the best.
Ooo! and some turducken bliss,
much needed rest and time to de-stress.
.

Marriam Webster: Doughty:

Yes I'M a Billionaire - In Trumps Own Words

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

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