Street Poems - Poems about Street

He sits by the junction scraped knuckles, half a smile a boy with more scars than years each one a story no one asks to hear. I saw the truth in his trembling vow heard the break in his voice when he said he’d left Kush behind but all they saw was yesterday's face. He carried hope in both hands knocked on doors he...

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Always walk on the sunny side of the street where the grass is always greener my advice... give a wide berth to the shady side (unlike Little Red riding the 'hood) as the over there the streets are meaner better yet focus on the good where life is pleasantly serener maintain a positive outlook and keep a cheerful demeanour please don't be annoyed vex...

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Which ones are my favorites? Who can say? It changes hour by hour, day by day Bert and Ernie have a banter so fine But Oscar is adorable in his garbage grime. Count Dracula and Cookie Monster are both a fave. I would have a difficult time choosing which one to save. Miss Piggy is outrageous, such a handful for Kermit...

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Sidewalks and roads morning, noon, and night Hectic bustle of today’s life From young tiny feet To the old with silver in their hair The noise of cars, trucks, and buses Along with the machines that are improving The roads, bridges, and sidewalks that are utilized daily A symphony of chaos trying to distract our attention Our attention we need to...

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There is a shadow moving in the street Hanging over the people you meet It has no hands elbow or knees but but it is moving swiftly in the air and it is causing the people to fear a warm energy is bursting out of the sun and the people are flocking the beaches to absorbing the strange heat, they...

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I am highly entertained though I see through the window what lies there: yes, dark cloud hovers above our street like a piece of rag. But we admire contraries. I am entertained because I hear rag - all about pineapple, reflection, stoptime, a paragon, a maple leaf. You would never predict your treasure, how so many of us listen to it today, your music downloaded...

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Neurodivergent Rogue One Rouge as one, on a solo run. From glossy glades to mossy mountains. From treeman to technoman From trycore to hardcore. From wet streets to dirt drifts. From urchin to fortune. From chaos evil to chaos From inconvenience to ingenuous. From arteriovenous to intravenous. From keeping thyme to literal flow of rhyme. dashing prancer to dancing lancer. From the A to the One...

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Beat the drum softly, and beat it with heart, Lay down a rhythm that rises from soul; Small though indeed is the size of our part, That which it is, we can still play in full. Loud are the clashes that crash from the street, Ominous thunder that thrashes from storm; Myriad pacing of multitude feet, Let still not chaos be your...

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Elm Street Every town has a haunted house. Even driving by a ghost town. It’s creepy walking by at night. In the broken window is a small candlelight. It’s eerie like a scary movie. Having frightening dreams always lurking. Monsters are staring out the windows. They hide behind you in the shadows. A lullaby song...

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In our litigious society folks sue at the drop of a hat Employees and employers Students and teachers Wives and husbands Even parents and children ...

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Summer Hiku 6 summer shining sun strolling down scorching street ...

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Across the water The street light flows Trees undressed Allow the light to glow Saturated shadows define the streetlight Changing each moment Before the sun rises Water appears as a dark stain Birds squawking softly ...

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tin cup music life’s story was etched on her face carved with pocket-knife memories rubbed in with grammar school erasers and colored like heavy wet fog on a stinson beach winter’s morning . smiles were kept tucked in her pocket until a coin rang out like handel’s messiah hitting the bottom of her tin cup a reminder of how far she had fallen in a life...

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Whenever I spot red-bearded Origin, the unhoused street musician of Budapest who asks for a donation, not making a protest with a grin; don't be amazed if I'm the first to drop coins in his empty cup: does anybody, not in a rush, ever stop and give him some attention? Does he ever feel humiliation? He's too young to...

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“Consequence” Smile, Smile, Smile my little child, Smile. I know you can Oh, little child of the street. Pope Francis says, “You are a consequence, A consequence of war.” Your tattered clothes, Your blackened face, You’re all alone, You have no home. Smile, Smile, Smile my little child, Smile. I see your tears, I feel your pain, You bear the cross Of mankind’s wrath. You...

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