Short Plaza Poems

The Kmart of yore
Stands proudly in the plaza
Casting a shadow...

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Angels-guarded plaza
with tall Christmas Tree jingling
charm me with your lights...

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In pristine sunshine
         A couple embrace the day   
       Pink mist sends shockwaves 


By 
David Kavanagh...

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Gandi gashti run,
Gutter de pedawar,
Lun chupan wali Machine,
Kutti kamini kanjri orat..
Note.zafar teri kuss maaray....

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Temperature dip
urban leaves turned
Autumn, sniffing around
for a place to settle
no Farmer's Market
in San Francisco today....

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Colonnade of Spanish style here
State's first time brick plaza seen near
Sacred old bells chime loud most clear
Knees, heads low bow
Holy cemetery's so dear
Saints rest, sleep now...

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I gave the poor a nickel
who spent it on some shoes.
Then those who owned the store
had money for their dues.

The store was just a new one
and had to pay it's lease.
And I the plaza owner
took the nickel home in peace....

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I've seen the Grand Canyon, Cancun, Taj Mahal
World Plaza (both phases), Broadway curtain call
I watched when Hank Aaron sent that little ball
'cross opposite fence the Babe's record to fall.
I've bathed in Bridal Falls
Niagara'd 'til day called....
But I've never seen a lighthouse
'cept in pictures....

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Getting across  Kantabon
I find dense Elephant Road
Left the old road-divider 
At nine o'clock at night;


Pankhiraj Rickshaw flies in the air
In the mysterious light of sodium lamp-
The illusory drone.


Chasing me some fake face book IDs
Agony throws the Shaking net.
Zuberi Restaurant fries
The hybrid Climbing Fish 
Digitally welcomes the Motaleb Plaza....

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multi-cultural mecca
Farmers' Market at the United Nations Plaza,
San Francisco

water fountain sculpture
misting through the
jazz audience at lunchtime, 
during the weekday summer concert series

poetry gives me new eyes
situated right in front of my 
heart ~ sigh

A wiley seagull bathing
under a pressure close to a full
blast, water sculpture mist curls my hair

And I forget the littered alley I walked through
a second ago...

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In the plaza alone am I,
Along with the mud puddle
From yesterday's rains and the
Cold gray concrete made colder
By the steel blue sky. The pines
Over there bend under the wind
Like old gray men reaching for the
Remote. A bus drives through like
A yellow-gold-black streak of lightning,
Delivering their parasites and boldly
Stepping through the mud puddle. The 
Crows eat wild onions for breakfast
And wait for their nests to burn and their
Lives to end like me....

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In translucent silence
sapphire-capped minarets
stand like ardent rose buds
under glint of a firefly moon.

Gone are birds of day
like ruby breasted dawn
spilling ashes of roses
on a saffron horizon,
rhododendrons and azaleas floating
up high to burnish
the mosque's ghosted towers.

Through night's brisk lapis
the hushed teal dome bides
wafting apple breezes
as walls and turrets lumber,
shielding the tiled plaza
until morning steeps the landscape
in the aura of peacocks....

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