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The city is a beehive~
hexagons stacked,
each buzzing with activity
morning, noon, and night.
Streets: wax-thin, sticky with footsteps.
Buildings: golden, leaning into each other,
their windows humming with fluorescence.
Every corner is a chamber~
workers trailing in, workers trailing out,
carrying briefcases instead of pollen.
The queen? She’s a rumor~
a shadow in the penthouse,
counting her hexagons,
her kingdom of glass.
And the honey?
Oh, the honey is the noise~
the honk and clatter,
the murmured deals,
the laughter pooling
in elevators,
thick as syrup.
We are all bees here,
dizzy with purpose,
lost in the comb.
poem originally written for and submitted to Ultramarine Literary Review for its urbanity contest, Febrary 21, 2026.
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The city doesn't rest~
it pulses with life 24/7.
Overworked streetlights flicker
waiting until sunrise.
Run down sidewalks
crack and bend,
releasing steam from below.
Subway trains softly sing
to rats and rust.
Windows mirror windows~
a thousand lives stacked like plates,
never touching, always full.
Somewhere, a siren stitches the night shut.
We are all borrowed space here,
leaning against each other
without ever touching.
The city doesn't rest~
it waits.
Poem written for “Urbanity Poetry Contest,” Ultramarine Literary Review, sponsor, February 20, 2026.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Neon vines entwine~
steel branches scrape the smog sky.
A taxi's harsh bloom
paints the pavement yellow, then
fades like a dying firefly.
You cannot hold Winter
Children weep for acorns
and their plummets of blackcurrants
They have lost their Midas Touch
Urban foraging is bygone pride
Urbanity
A beautiful morning, slightly overcast cars
on the avenue play sordini, rubber yielding to asphalt
The sun has yet to make its presence felt
The curtain in the window stirs; the breeze and has
a soothing hand
The building is awakening
First flushing bathroom, then the good kitchen sound
A murmur of voices grows to a crescendo
A frisson through the flats, another day of life is promised
in the urban landscape.
What struck me was your urbanity… which I now see as social profanity.
Our first meeting you filled the room with intellectual vitality
You carried on about substance and morality
You had such a distinct alluring mentality
and you dressed yourself in a triumphant formality
I honestly thought you were the heart of shining humanity
which has made my recent clutch on reality
a crushing blow of brutality
…you are really just ..Self-involved Inanity!
Your charisma is in fact mundanity
You words now spew like vile volcanity
You are a warped melon ball..... of insanity!
and if I did not so fear the worst of worst karmic calamity
I would gladly help you meet…a sudden and quite comical
fatality
(written for Silent One contest 1/23/2017)
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