Short Tenements Poems
Short Tenements Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Tenements by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Tenements by length and keyword.
The hours fade away
Like old men at evening
Wearied of the day
As their lives drift by,
Like the slow /swift sailing
Of clouds in a margarine sky
And fall in flakes as the pendulums sway
To those man-imagined measures of decay.
Caseworker’s Rounds
Cabrini-Green
Public Housing
Chicago
Where I am now
there are no leas, no
sheep feeding.
There are tenements,
children breeding.
Where I am now
there are no trees, no
wrens lighting.
There are halls far, dark,
an old man peeing.
Donal Mahoney
Caseworker’s Tune
Cabrini-Green
Public Housing
Chicago
Where I am now
there are no leas, no
sheep feeding.
There are tenements,
children breeding.
Where I am now
there are no trees, no
wrens lighting.
There are halls far, dark,
an old man peeing.
Donal Mahoney
pause to hear a storm
listen to its vast noises
admire its voices
winds that blew in infamy
crackled as romantic fires
state huts wade through muck
spiders and newborns pancaked
trouble from the breeze
it stretched over our tall walls
but into their tenements
furious horses
unimagined violence
warfare wind wallops
nests shaken out by breezes
some people gather again
A lonely yellow butterfly flits along a crisp fall breeze as other life forms seek out a warm refuge from the approaching night's freeze. Rigor mortise leaves lie shapeless in corpse patterns on my uncut late autumn lawn like soldiers lost in battle, all helpless to the coming elements of an Ohio winter. Naked trees reveal a last nest or two swaying in the breeze like abandoned tiny tenements quietly awaiting Mothers next season of rentals.
Those yelling voices from various tenements
Sounded like the sad treble of girls
In cellars where leviathans
In a spree flourished forced libidos:
The lasses trembling in rude arms!
Sir –
Still in their yellow bloom
Pig-watchers of the wider forest
Clad in the swords of midnight warriors
Performed the vicar’s rituals.
A blue hour lamented the gloom!
In the morning more skulls lie
A trash of real weavers!
(Prof, a sad lad heard the tales told!)
low slung my denim
draws got creases
like crows feet
as the beat
fluctuates between
Tupac to Woodstock
and every act whose
rhythm dropped
looking for a revolution
something
somewhere
bring about some evolution
tired of tenements
and two bits
for that hustle
hey dj
play that song
so we can hustle
til dawn
til the cops come knockin
and the roofs on fire
but we don't need
no water
we need a revolution
something
somewhere
to bring about some evolution