En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The First Snow

They spiral down the sky like cotton
So light, dancing and twirling in circles
Creating a cheerful note that spreads
With the winds.The city roads are a maze of
Rutted white interspersed with greyish
Sandy marks of footsteps and hasty
Signatures of motorcycles, bicycles
And cars making their purposeful rides
To all corners of the city. The rail system
Normally running smoothly hits a hitch,
The tracks snow covered needing a shove.
The city suddenly turns out a parade
Of mundane coloured umbrellas,
Leather coats and bags, a monotony made
Less intrusive only by the tasteful choice of
Exotic scarfs folded snugly around
Each neck.The snow falling gently
All over, creating a scene so dear to
An artist who if sufficiently inspired could
Probably turn out his magnum opus to marvel the world!

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Snow Dancing

Frozen ground, frozen ponds,
Overgrown fields awaiting spring.
Snow dancing across the roads,
Snow too cold to melt
when it hits the ground.

To light to stay down,
blowing every which way.
Cars pass by disturbing the air
making the snow dance
on swirling currents of air.

Swirling up, down, all around,
spinning, wildly, round and round,
trying to get to the ground.
Almost bare roads covered
with swirls of snow.

Everywhere the flowing snow.
No cars pass by. Now, only the wind.
Wind still blowing the snow,
up, down, and all around,
dancing lively to the ground.

From my poetry book 'Snowed in by a Warm Fire'
available on Amazon.com

poem by Joe Wocoski
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And The Snow Fell

I remember big soft wet flakes
falling on the tracks all the way
streets filling with that wet snow
the trolley I was riding plowing
through fields of city snow
like a big red bulldozer

I remember clear as day
sitting with Ma at the table
in the kitchen looking out
at the snow falling

Ma and I sat there
streets and rooftops
disappearing in the falling snow
that covered all
and the snow fell along the Rhine
in Germany
and in the dark woods of the Ardennes

we sat there and watched
as the fields and woods in France
filled with gently falling snow
and my Pa lying dead
somewhere in France

and snow fell softly
all the way
across Europe

poem by Michael Pruchnicki
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Snow Is Falling

Snow is falling: snow is falling.
Geranium flowers reach
for the blizzard’s small white stars
past the window’s edge.

Snow is falling, all is lost,
the whole world’s streaming past:
the flight of steps on the back stairs,
the corner where roads cross.

Snow is falling: snow is falling,
not snowflakes stealing down,
Sky parachutes to earth instead,
in his worn dressing gown.

As if he’s playing hide-and-seek,
across the upper landings,
a mad thing, slowly sneaks,
Sky creeps down from the attic.

It’s all because life won’t wait,
before you know, it’s Christmas here.
And look, in a minute,
suddenly it’s New Year.

Snow is falling, deeper – deeper.
Maybe, with that same stride
in that same tempo,
with that same languor,

Time’s going by?

Year after year, perhaps,
passing, as snow’s falling,
like words in a poem?
Snow’s falling: snow’s falling.
Snow is falling, all is lost –
the whitened passers-by,
leaves’ startled showing,
the corners where roads cross.

poem by Boris Pasternak
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Tracks In The Snow

Like tracks in the snow our actions follow
Throughout our life, no matter where we go.
No matter which direction the wind may blow,
Tracks are always there imprinted in the snow.

Never covered; the pain of sins long past,
Mistakes in life follow like tracks in snow.
Looking behind the tracks winding too and fro,
Losing the light; in the gently falling snow.

poem by Derrick Fernie
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City Of Beggars

The sky is always blue in the city of beggars
There is not much green in the city of beggars
There are buildings being built so fast in the city of beggars
In every corner that you encounter
The city of beggars are growing so fast
And in the city of beggars lives 30 million people
The air is not that good in the city of beggars
Because of the factories and the cars
The city of beggars never sleep
The noise goes on 24 hours a day
It is not safe to walk in the street of beggars
Because you can get robbed and killed at any time of the night or day
The traffic is chaotic in the city of beggars
Thanks God there is no snow in the city of beggars

poem by Aldo Kraas
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The Big City Type

I woke up in a big city apartment

Rode to a big city job

On a big city subway

With hip, big city people

Worked at a big city job

In a big city skyscraper

Stood in a big city line

For lunch, heard big city jazz

On a big city radio station

It was like a big city scene

In a big budget movie

When I realized I had become

The big city type

I always wanted to be

Yet I was still me

poem by Adam Artois
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Tale of Three Cities

New York blasted London blasted
Singapore -
Ripped off each other's metaphoric balls,
Crumbling walls.

Priapic city monoliths -
Blue-sky scraping bastards -
Shout about their height (but really length) .

V8 arseholes didn't care -
Pumping shit into the air,
So long as they were always there to
Fart aloud a smoggy cloud,
Laughing at the weak asthmatic,
Humoured that it seems traumatic.

Watch the greedy cities oozing
Chair-bound fat committees, though they
Look a bunch of titties as they
Waffle on about the pound.

Ever thought to look around and see
That they were dead?

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010

city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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City Streets

The gaudy glow of neon lights
dispels the darkness of the nights
on city streets.

They pop and fizzle noisily
creating a cacophony
on city streets.

The sober folks walk warily
and drunks stagger uncaringly
on city streets.

The ladies of the night parade
for there is money to be made
on city streets.

Drug dealers ready to retreat
if they should hear a coppers feet
on city streets.

The night shift workers wend their way
towards their work to start their day
on city streets.

The noisy revellers thin out
as one by one the signs go out
on city streets.

The gradually noises abate
and ghostly shadow congregate
on city streets.

For some few hours peace will reign
before the noise will start again
on city streets.

The early morning traffic sounds
start with the milkmen on their rounds
on city streets.

This builds up to an angry roar
as cars and lorries inward pour
on city streets

then when at last rush hour has passed
noise levels will subside at last
on city streets

I thank the lord that I am free
to leave this noise far behind me
on city streets.

I walked my beat the whole night
through exactly as I’m paid to do
on city streets.

I choose to live outside the town
where constant noise won’t get me down
on city streets.

My village is a quiet place
A haven where I need not face
the noisy streets.

8-Jun-07
poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Builders Of The City

You never will find their names on a memorial wall
And any memories of them historians never do recall
The builders of the City who lay with the unsung
Many of them came from distant shores and spoke in a foreign tongue
They more than earned every penny that they were ever paid
The builders of the City yet little of their achievements made
Devoted to the family and devoted to the wife
They worked hard so their children could enjoy a better life,
The builders of the City so much to them we owe
Though nothing written about them and of them little we do know
They built the housing estates, City buildings and City Mall
Though nothing of their life achievements is ever made at all
They lay the rail tracks to the City and made the Roadways through the Countryside
Yet in the builders of the City we never do take pride.

poem by Francis Duggan
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World of Snow.

Snow falls, creating blankets on the ground.
Everything is white, a world of snow.
I look into the sky with my eyes, yet now snow is falling.
I look into my heart, it is lost in a world of snow.
It is frozen, in a shell of ice,
and lost, in a world of white.
My prince, won't you come,
And rescue me from this cold?

poem by Float Waters
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Snowy evening

Snowy evening
Snow filling the ground
Turning the city into white
She, in a bright red dress
Walking slowly, enjoying
Her walk in the snowy evening
Towards the Fence of the garden!

Greenaries of the garden
Now in white shades
With frozen drops of ice
Covering the grass
Every little bush
Like a cotton plant
Making a lovely sense!

Few snow flakes in her hands
To taste the pretty white snow
She opens her mouth
Awesome beauty with a white perl
In hand towards her mouth
With more innocence
Trees and bushes covered with snow
Wonders if she is pretty
Or the snow fall is pretty
Unexpressed silence persists
In the garden
Till the beauty
Went down the street!

poem by Archana Prabahar
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To Leave This City

This is the city to walk around in the rain
Staring at the barges in the harbor
And to hum songs through the night.
The city has countless streets
Bustling with people running around...
The waitress who brings me my tea every evening
And whom I like a lot although she's a White Russian
Is in this city.

The old pianist who turns around
To look at me
When he sneaks in pieces by Schumann and Brahms
While playing waltzes and foxtrot
Is also in this city.

The ferry boats that caryy passengers
To the village where I was born are in this city.
So are my memories,
All those I love,
And the graves of my loved ones.

This is the city where I have a job,
Where I earn my bread money.
And yet, in spite of all this,
This is the same city I'm leaving
Because of a woman
In another city.

poem by Orhan Veli Kanik
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Song: Suicide City

Down at suicide city,
Null of pride and past all pity.
Suicide city:
A stressed out Walter Mitty,
I'm at suicide city,
And I've maxed out my last chitty.
Suicide city, for my crime.

It's the dreaming and aphasic snow,
The white noise of this constant go.
And frozen in the cauldron's glow,
Of demons and my fears of woe;
The neediness of knee-jerk foe,
Who'd stand and fight them toe to toe,
Toe to toe, toe to toe...

Down at suicide city,
With nothing in the kitty.
Suicide city:
My life has got so shitty.
I'm at suicide city,
Waist deep in nitty-gritty.
Suicide city. In the slime.

It's the waking and the finding,
Of the ties, no longer binding,
In a white light: burning, blinding,
That no-one wants to know.
It's the grating and the grinding,
Of my teeth and nerves unwinding.
It's the brazen lies, reminding me
Of a dog and pony show!

Down at suicide city,
There ain't no joke so witty.
Suicide city:
The outcome won't be pretty.
I'm at suicide city,
Where I'll sing my final ditty.
Suicide city. Done my time.
I've done my time!

poem by David SmithWhite
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Song Of The Evergreens

Listen to the briskly whistling winter evergreen
Whispering through the frozen morning light
And tell me whats to come
Saying my time is near
Never fear
I close each year
Im winter
Reminding me to trade my t-shirts for my woven wools
Trade my sandals for my skis
Whispered warnings in the wind
Saying soon come the dancing snowflakes
Theyre kissing every tree
Theyre kissing you and me
Please hurry
Falling
Dazzling dancing diamonds from the sky
Prisms
Rainbow sparkled flurries in our eyes
Whipping across the frozen crystal meadow
Pond of ice
Race the snow
Well build a warming fire there
And cuddle close and wine and dine
The setting sun
The morning light will find us high
Shooting down the glistening mountain side
Screaming through the whispering pines
The freedom of each day
Will cleanse our minds
I can hardly wait for winter
I can hardly wait for the snow
I can hardly hardly wait for winter
I can hardly wait for the snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow

song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Winter's Delight

The snow was falling from the sky,
Skillfully concealing the land once more
With a variety of glimmering snowflakes,
The shapes and forms never seen before.

The snow was falling from the sky,
So beautiful, the vault of pearl white
Made it appear as if the world were new.
It was a scene that made it an artist's delight.

The snow was falling from the sky,
Enchanting the land with a glistening snow.
Nature's wildlife leaving a visible trail
That vanished as the wind began to blow.

The snow was falling from the sky,
And in my caring and sensitive heart,
I marveled at the wonders of nature
Of which we are a genuine part.

The snow has ceased falling from the sky,
As elated children rush to their favorite site
To build snowcastles, forts, and snowmen
Before the emerging of a cold, winter night.

poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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Attitudes.

The moon sheds soft and silver light
upon the newly fallen snow
A master piece for our delight.
The city folk will never know.

The snow that falls on city streets.
Is all too soon polluted by
the footprints left by passing feet.
In cities different rules apply.

Country folk accept the snow
They know there’s little they can do
but wait. In time the snow must go.
Something to look forward to.

But city folk impatiently
Demand the streets should be snow free.

Wednesday,06 January 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Pretty, Pretty City

Now the city has a studded nose,
Because the city is so pretty, and the city knows:
The city, she almost fooled me underneath the
Chicken sky- The city is so pretty,
But the city lie:
I loved the city and all its vermilion moods and ice-creams,
With parks and busses and city airplanes
And city rides- City coffins and city dies;
And I watched the city get drunk and turn around
And raise its monuments and party down;
And I sat upon one of her benches in a speculating mood,
And wondered if the city was so pretty,
Why was she so rude: The vulgar nebulas of the city’s
Eyes, the narcissisms of its displays:
There are so many well suited boys better than I out walking
In their sunny city days:
And I realized, the city didn’t love me,
The city plays and paws and eats up little boys such as
Me- She said she loves her little poet boys, such as me,
But the sweet, sweet city lies,
Because the city is so pretty, studded nosed and stunning eyed,
But she uses her autumn facades to blind the autumn chicken skies-
The pretty, pretty city has me hypnotized,
But the pretty, pretty city lies.

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The City Vs. The Country

In the city where the colours run dry,
Or in the country where the farmers grow rye.
In the city where there are fees,
Or in the country where beauty is free.
In the city where there are loud crowds,
Or in the country where you can watch clouds.
In the city where you camp out in your room,
Or in the country where you have fun dancing with a broom.
In the city where there are polluting cars,
Or in the county where you can see stars.
In the city where you seal the deal,
Or in the country where you can heal.
In the city where you say later,
Or in the country where you can see the water.
In the city where space is tight,
Or in the country where you hold their hand in the moonlight.

Written by Haley McRae,14.

poem by Haley McRae
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The Hills That Surround A City

There are hills that surround a city,
I do not know if everyone loves these hills as I do,
From a child to an adult, I traveled the roads of these hills,
Through all seasons these hills are inviting, to a city dweller,

There are hills that surround a city,
In summer these hills can be dangerous,
Bush fires, the enemy of all,
But a friend at times,
Trees and plants re-shoot after bush fires,
Foe to animals and residents,
Cool nights, bring summer breezes to these hills,

Autumn colours surround the hills,
And bring the city dweller to visit,
Colours line the ever winding roadways,
Magical colours along the roadways,
Breathtaking trees, so tall,
Falling leaves line the winding roadways,
Around the hills that surround a city,

Log fires creating smoke from chimneys, dot the landscapes,
During winter,
Winter rains flushes the creeks and rivers,
Throughout the hills that surround a city,
Frosts, fog create an old world atmosphere,
Don't forget your scarf, beanie's, or gloves,
It is cold in these hills,

Spring, the hills are coming alive,
Magical gardens, on display,
Watch for the colourful birds, that come alive,
There is still a chill in the air,
Grab a bit of sunshine, feel the warmth,
There is another world in these hills,
A historical world, for those who wish to visit,

The Adelaide hills surround the city,
Many abandon the city, for the day,
Or a weekend retreat,
The many winding roads amongst the Adelaide hills,
Will take you many places,
I have traveled these roads all my life,
Now I am finding many new roads to travel,
Around these hills that surround a city.

poem by Batibchar Mocculta
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A Snowy Sunset

Snow Snow on the ground
Sun is sinking down down down
Trees trees covered in Wight
People gasp at the sight

Snow Snow on the ground
Animals scurry all around
Snow Snow in your hair
Stiffness and cold in the air

Snow Snow on the ground
People sledding down down down
Hot Coco and coffee inside
Why not go for another sled ride

Snow Snow on the ground
The sun has set past the ground
Lights light up the city bright
People every where say what a sight

poem by Miranda Will
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