What moves through the cracks of the walls
Infant broken cries cast to milkless mothers
Who live in those too tall buildings
Buildings cloud sky scraping
Ant hole noisy towers
Rustling like leaves of an autumn yet to come
Center decentered beehives
And blind blinking traffic lights
Street arteries bleeding pulse beats
Underground prayer of too busy trains
Lined upon the city palm
A hidden message there was you thought
Build boarding flashlights its beams torn apart
This is a place of a used to be
A place of will be bridges towering
There are too many tears the river will cry
There is too much water the ocean will roar
But quite enough to cover it all
Thus will declaim the hounds
And you
Soaking sorrow wet wiped away in ground
You will become a runaway thought of the earth undone
Who’ll care for it
Who’ll date to touch it
Who’ll be there to..do it
‘My soul unsealed
City dived little cradle tombs
And I have seen a wound and a healing
Silk woven see through covering all
Breath choked illhailed rising to the sun! ’
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Related quotes
Bipolar painful his bones bound to brokenness
There on the rock he stood
Arms winged spreadedness
Prophesy of sages stormed off his soul
What I have seen is the wound and the healing he said
The sights of sun desert sighs sealed high on a mountain peak
My soul unsealed
Desert little cradle tombs
I could have died of sorrow
But I’ve seen I’ve seen the wound and the healing
A thin layered see through balm
Covering earth undone
The springs that will grow new hearts
Desert broken bones builds into towers sublime
Time woven patchworks blankets of the sky
Covering earth undone
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Day Sounds
Silence in the city appears to be hard to find
The sounds we hear are often raw and unkind
There is noisy traffic that is violent and demanding
And the cries of the engines are loudly expanding
Hot mufflers expose of evaporating dark fumes
Rising up as smog like the towering stones of tombs
Traffic lights are humming to a buzzing steady tune
While street vendors offer goods in the afternoon
The sewers are hissing when releasing warm steam
Surrounded by laughing tourists eating ice cream
The cooing of pigeons is heard wherever you go
People in line are conversing while waiting for a show
Water is pounding against the concrete bank of the river
The brakes of trucks are grinding as they revolt and quiver
Then the whistle from a train echoes in the far distance
And the sirens of ambulances deliver firm persistence
The noise and motions communicate with us in the city
Leaving imprints in our minds of a life that is rather gritty
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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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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New Jersey The Garden State
In NYC where the buildings are tall,
so much to do, no time for it all.
Now across the Hudson River
is a much smaller state.
I hear there are very hard working people
who make this Garden State great.
Now the water in New Jersey
used to be Pristine,
It came out of underground springs
that was very CLEAN.
Oil refineries, and power plants to this date,
destroy Jersey but make NYC great.
By lighting up all their tall buildings
making it the City that Never Sleeps,
but hurting Jersey without anything to reap.
Lets bring back Jersey as it was in the past,
rid the state of it’s pollution that cannot last.
Written by Christina Sunrise Feb.10,2011
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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New Jersey The Garden State
In NYC where the buildings are tall,
so much to do, no time for it all.
Now across the Hudson River
is a much smaller state.
I hear there are very hard working people
who make this Garden State great.
Now the water in New Jersey
used to be Pristine,
It came out of underground springs
that was very CLEAN.
Oil refineries, and power plants to this date,
destroy Jersey but make NYC great.
By lighting up all their tall buildings
making it the City that Never Sleeps,
but hurting Jersey without anything to reap.
Lets bring back Jersey as it was in the past,
rid the state of it’s pollution for it cannot last.
Written by Christina Sunrise Feb.10,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Street Lights
The city sleeps
All around,
Care gives way to slumber.
A mile from home
The street lights blink
A siren's song:
Sleep now,
Sleep now,
Sleep forever.
Their rhythmic pulse
Matches the music
And the city glides,
Unimposing by.
Can't we come here,
This intersection?
Streetlights off duty
Blinking shadows mute
The lines of our faces.
The city sleeps
And we breathe.
Alone is this routine place
We feel alien,
Naked,
So far from mundane
poem by by unknown author
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Like everything else that is not here
like a birth in a red rose
sweet flower growing
like the rain falling down
to purify the heart
like anticipations
when the soul cries out
the bolts of words smashing
the silence broken ground
like tears leaking out
the cheeks of shame and pride
like touches untouched fevered
healing broken spines
like getting up walking
across the desert ground
like hailing the sun
when the moon's too bright
like praying words of love
sing no song to silence
across the waves of blue
like a wrath and sorrow
like a pain and smiles
spreading arms in needful
waiting for the signs
like the dresses wrapped
in wardrobes of the mind
never woven fibers
textiled patchworked clothing
like those wounds of blood
clotted in the sun
dried out eyes of sorrow
rising in a laugh
like all those things all people
scattered on the palm
and like everything else
that is not here
like love
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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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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Take Me Back To The Country
Well this big city life is gettin me down
Theres just too many people around
Theres dirt in the air and crime in the street
High-rise buildings and cold concrete
This rat race sure enough takes a toll
I wanna run off to my fishin hole
Take me back take me back
Take me back to the country
Take me back take me back
Take me back to the country
Chorus:
Where the stars at night
Outshine those city lights
Take me back to the country
Where the eagles fly
And the treetops touch the sky
Take me back to the country
This traffic jam is makin me mad
I miss the simple life I had
Peace and quite runnin free
I wanna go home to my family
Im sick of the clock, sick of the phone
Out in the country my times my own
Take me back take me back
Take me back to the country
Take me back take me back
Take me back to the country
Chorus:
Where the stars at night
Outshine those city lights
Take me back to the country
Where the eagles fly
And the treetops touch the sky
Take me back to the country
Where the stars at night
Outshine those city lights
Take me back to the country
Where the eagles fly
And the treetops touch the sky
Take me back to the country
Take me back to the country
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Words fed on dust
There are some words
Fed on the dust
Ash fallen sound
Reaching deep cries
The noise of which hurts
Though thrown away cast
Down to the ground
Undead it’ll rise
In winds and storms
Rain cradle of tears
When no heart warms
Lost forgotten years
The time of their birth
Dark swallowed patches
And the silent dirge
That no music matches
Placed on a hearth
They’ll burn and surge
Like candles broken
Melting in wax
A candle token
Of the soul that aches
Forever and ever abreast
Of an unleashed why of a quest
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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How many lives to die
How many cries to hear
This street this street
Closing down on me
This bridge this bridge
River hum to hear
Get close go down
The water flows
Bend remorse to the ground
In fear it grows
Where do you truth off
Where do you truth down
The Eden roses thinning overnight?
Which speech what sound
Would you like to hear now
How many lives how many cries
Can your mirror bear?
Clairvoyant re-clair?
Presque-vue?
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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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
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What's Donne is Donne
As militant Mullahs mutter and pray
And plan their Mosque near ground Zero
Protesters march and people say:
“This isn't right! They'll have to go.”
But let's demur and make no noise
No tears, no threats, no signs approve.
It would profane our civic faith
To tell the Mullah he must move.
The Towers’ fall brought harm and fear
Men reckon what that did and meant;
But building a “cultural Center” near
Though demonized, is innocent.
Dull couch potatoes of the Right
Those ditto heads who can't admit
Tolerance, cause it doth reprove
Those thoughts that have them in a snit.
But we, my love, are so refined
that we ourselves don't care one whit.
Let them build it, come what may
But build a brothel next to it.
Two buildings place there, cheek to cheek:
the Mosque and “Annie’s House of Pain”.
One dealing with things spiritual,
The other deals with things profane.
In both, salvation is for sale
It seems to me a perfect fit.
For do not both invoke God's name?
-and both, I fear, use whips a bit.
students at the Madrasah may
hear the cries of Joy next door
on her mattress, hard at play
While they use prayer mats on the floor.
.
Will they too prove as tolerant?
Live and let live, for now- they say
When they enforce Sharia law,
The folks next door will learn to pray.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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One Day Traveler
Whenever I've traveled to a crowded city
I always think, 'Oh what a pity
to live in a city.'
For the skyscrapers there
so high in the air
have hidden the blue of the sky
except for the birds that fly.
The cold gray stone adorned with lights
never seem warm until the nights.
Their blinking neons can't compare
with the twinkling stars up in the air.
And again I think,
'Oh what a pity to live in the city.'
The hustle, the bustle and constant noise
have become for some the city's joys.
The screeching brakes, the honking sounds
is an abrupt assault to my head that pounds.
And again I think,
'Oh what a pity to live in a city.'
A one day visit and I'm ready to leave
and I know that I could never conceive
of being at home, never to roam
where the grass grows under my feet,
except for a country street
and again I think,
'Oh what a pity to live in a city.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Whenever I'm In Swanston Street
So many different peoples of every different race
Whenever I'm in Swanston street I long for a quieter place
Far from the World of bustle and the noisy city street
Out there in the quiet countryside where the rill and river meet.
Whenever I'm is Swanston street I cannot feel at ease
I smell smog and pollution in the foul city breeze
The sidewalks crowded with people as they bustle to and fro
But each to their own as some might say and it happens to be so.
I am not a city type of person that sort of lifestyle would not suit me
I love the coastal countryside and the cliffs that overlook the sea
To watch the fishing gannets plunge down from a great height
With folded wings into saltwater a most amazing sight.
The city scene or city ways I never could embrace
And whenever I'm in Swanston street I feel so out of place
Many people love the city life each to their own rings true
But I'd prefer the quieter place the home of the wild roo.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Will I ever know
The pavement scars of too many steps
Dead corner end stones certificates of dust
The world's just a mark or a place to be
Like countries I live in and those I just travel
The streets will know no difference at all
City dived strongthoughts temporary links
Arteries reaching the nights of beating blood
In a slut's curse stuck in a mirror broken lipstick
Lost in a kiss and the sounds of cars
Acting a movement inventing the bridges
The roads that there are to roll the rocks of heart
Like pearls of white dust against the concrete
Have I dreamt of this when the nights came close
Have I touched the walls or they have touched me
Through the haunting halls some sunlight to see
There was a point at which
To remove the sky meant finding
The shelterless that understood
Intricate patchworks on the blanket
They ate the morsels of clouds
Served from the hands full of curves and winds
Lost in a handshake and the sound of voices
Acting the speech inventing the words
For a no thing to come and grasp
The whispers are there just to seal the boxes
For a postman mute to deliver a sign
Everyone will talk to the sky
I'm sure everyone will try to talk to the sky
And the blankets torn will hear
Have I dreamt this when the nights came close
Have I given a hand it's been given to me
In no city land just a touch to be
Will I ever know
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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23feb Many Miracles Near Misses
many miracles
near misses
80% of city
has no water
water flooding
outside my place
stable thank God
ground shaking
'severe' in city
centre only 10
kilometres away
earthquake's epicenter
widespread reports
severe building damage
two buses crushed
by collapsing buildings
75 per cent of city
left without power
an active fault area
approximately 225
square kilometers
of fault load unloaded
'One side of the fault
moved about 1 metre
relative to the other'
last quake we
dogged the bullet
this is why
weaker is worse
last year's 7.1-magnitude
earthquake was more than
10 times stronger than 6.3
but caused no deaths
because it occurred deeper
at greater depth further
away from Christchurch
its epicentre was 40
kilometres west of city
that quake caused
widespread damage
several power outages
particularly in the city
of Christchurch but mass
fatalities were avoided
not a single soul died
because of miracle timing
4 September 2010
4: 35 am Saturday morning
the people the people
were safely sleeping
most people were off
the street few houses
are of unreinforced
construction that quake
was 10 kilometres
below ground
this quake was only
5 kilometres deep
this February earthquake
occurred during lunchtime
business rush hour traffic
in heart of work day Tuesday
not before dawn Saturday
many buildings were already
weakened from previous quakes
contrast risk minimum;
magic bullet empty
buildings; risk maximum
killing zone despair
New Zealand sits
on tectonic boundary
between Pacific plate
Australia-India plate
with 14,000 quakes a year;
Christchurch is another frontier
near to related secondary
faults; the Alpine fault
pristine Southern Alps
spine of the South Island
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Capital City
Nerve and nerve
This coastline swerves
To a city that they live on
I walk on by
Animals cry
To a city that they live on
To a city that they walk on
To a city that they live on
Pulse feel pulse
This train is late
I hesitate
To a city that they live on
Dance the dance of violence
To a city that they live on
To a city that they crawl on
To a city that they live on
Pulse feel pulse
City that they live on
Feel
To a city that they crawl on
To a city live on
Feel
City that they crawl on
Lyrics : j kerr music : simple minds (c) emi publishing ltd reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The tree I am/ Ja sam drvo
The tree I am
Sideroad’s heart
My words in leaves
They touch the ground
The river I am
A beat in veins
My words in a drop
A swallowed water
The cloud I am
A written sky
Quote me not
The night is eavesdropping
Ja sam drvo
Srce krajputaša
Moje riječ i u lišć u
Dotič u tlo
Ja sam rijeka
U venama dodir
Moje riječ i u kapi
Progutana voda
Ja sam oblak
Ispisano nebo
Ne citiraj me
Prisluškuje noć
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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New Zealand
An earthquake struck New Zealand's city of Christchurch on Tuesday
Burying vehicles under debris and collapsing buildings into the streets.
Police announced a curfew and city was shut down on Wednesday,
Rescuers scrambled to reach beneath the rubble the residents.
The quake devastating the spire of the Cathedraland is a real tale.
The buildings had collapsed and the people were trapped inside.
All around the city, this powerful earthquake strangely bent some rails, Moreover, it toppled the tall buildings and seventy five people died.
The earthquake combination of distance and depth was so deadly,
Streets were strewn with concrete and people were stuck in towers.
Firefighters climbed ladders to pluck people from roofs to safety.
Buildings have gone because aftershocks hit the city within two hours.
Pre-World War buildings were damaged by the quake on September,
People wandered through streets strewn with debris and concrete.
The further damage was caused by a strong aftershock in December.
Now there is a real carnage with bodies littering the streets..
The women went into premature labor and the city was in agony.
The airport was shut down, in ruins the people began to groan,
Every child has been walking home trying to find the lost family.
The city were suffering cuts to the water supply and the phone.
A thirty million tone block of ice sheared off a glacier of New Zealand
After the earthquake had devastated the city groping it into Dark.
The iceberg crashed into a lake had rocked the South Island
Ripping off the Tasman Glacier at Aoraki Mount Cook National Park.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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