People Watching Poems - Poems about People Watching

I’m a people watcher A thing I instinctively do Please don’t take offence If you see me watching you Walking, such a common thing We do every single day But so many people seem To do it in their own way. That attractive young girl With the swinging hips And the dazzling smile that Could launch a thousand ships The entwined couple in A world...

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When I people-watch, I wonder Who they are and where they live Through the hints that they unconsciously, Or with their knowledge, give. Have they moved here after college Or come searching for a job? In their rentals or their sublets, Who’s a neatnik? Who’s a slob? Are they happy in the city? Do they miss where they were raised? Do the crowds and noises...

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She used to tell me stories of the times when she would go, Into the big, bold city, come the rain or shine or snow. There never was a person, that took on the centre stage, But pigeons feature in the tales that never made the page. She used to walk her baby, wrapped up warm against the cold, She...

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I find one way to lift my spirits when the news of the day makes me cry… Is to find a comfortable spot where I can sit and watch people walking by. It doesn’t seem to matter …the time of day…the place… watching people walking by always puts a smile on my face. I never know who’ll walk by…which...

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I could spend hours people watching Human behaviour is so interesting to view Silently observing others lives go by Curious as to “who are you”? In my mind I form scenarios Of the strangers I see With coffee in hand I watch intently I look at individuals Their lives I do surmise Wonder is this just your public persona The real you in disguise!...

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An airport is the perfect place To look at people; every face Is worth a glance and then, as well, Their clothes and shoes, to try to tell Where they are from, since likely they Don't realize they are in display. Their voices may provide a clue But I prefer a silent view, Imagining the varied lives Of friends and loners, husbands, wives. It may...

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Many walk past Most without bags Wearing fleece pajama pants At 1:30 on a Sunday Not a.m., we are at the mall In broad daylight, In front of people Their hair is tossed haphazardly, they are not coming from church Or lunch at Grandma's. One is wearing red heels, slick, patent leather maybe High, and a sequin skirt that is not as long...

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People watching My friend and I, we sit and watch, People walking down the main street, And we comment about the clothes that they wear, From their head right down to their feet. And we also predict their own life story, Who they are by night and by day, We ponder if they’re the one that says what to...

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She smoked my last cigarette and I felt cheated. I slept with her best friend; again and again, I repeated. They mocked him as he came passing by. We laughed, I and them, for not any reason for why. Smoke rolled out from the car window. Lids captured tainted pictures turned distorted memories. Just another low class...

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It’s a Saturday night; all the lads are on the beer Posing in their best clothes – look out ladies we are here They swiftly down a pint then another three or four Soon they are getting wobbly and falling to the floor They stumble to the disco cos they are on the pull Eying up the ladies, but their...

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I saw people walking through the streets, As cars lazily rolled down the one lane road. Pairs holding hands, mothers and sons, Suited men retiring after a hard day's work. The awkward side-steps avoiding strollers, Exchanging waves, exchanging glances. And gentle brushes past a shoulder, Dogs on leashes wooed by giggling girls. I saw a kid in a Giants jersey and sunglasses: "Hey man,...

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Perhaps I am a frightful boor, But your looks were a visceral lure. I stopped and I stared. What if I had dared To ask your name? But I demurred. I'd have followed you without a thought By your face I was utterly caught: Like a fish in a net My whole world I'd forget, And misfortune would then be my lot People say it...

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Old man, blank faced, gray, balding, bent back, suspenders holding up loose pants, a half filled plastic grocery bag hanging from one hand, a wooden cane companion in the other, limps his way slowly from the grocery store out to the parking lot …towards his parked car. People rushing, back and...

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The color fades from black to gray but while i sit the needled play. The junkies, human monkeys, in mass array seek their new ways to get off today. Some head to the mall to praise their corporate gods. While others seek seek sex with any living broads. The rest are all wrecks that need to be used. The weak seek the...

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