Face of the City
The glow of a late Autumn Sunset,
Gleamed over the dense city streets.
Rushing wheels and honking horns,
Halted awhile for the traffic signs.
Through the rows of rushing motors,
Men on bikes ploughed their way.
They squished and squeezed through every gap,
Caring a naught for the traffic rules.
With jarring siren, the Ambulance jeep,
Speeded past for Emergency aid.
The patient inside, in writhing pain,
Lay stressed on every hurdle raced.
Ladies holding children in hands,
And people bent with growing age,
Remained planted at the zebra cross,
Waiting to move to the opposite side.
As the tired people back from work,
Hurried away to reach their homes,
The jovial band in easeful mood,
Treaded towards the city parks.
Fortune tellers with their Tarot cards,
Held their clients in great suspense,
The street hawkers on tiled pavements,
Squatted beside their cheap merchandise.
Scores of men who treaded on foot,
Grew to Hundreds in a short awhile,
These were folks right from the show,
The Block buster had drawn hoards of men.
When young Dandies in tawdry dress,
Dallied round with their ladies love,
Street urchins in tattered clothes,
Went searching in the garbage pile.
While decrepit old beggars lay drowsy,
On the cement benches in wayside shelters,
The affluent Sahibs in plush restaurants,
Feasted on their cocktail dinners.
The city thus with its motley crowd,
Paints life in contrast shades,
For Fortune, with her alluring charms,
Favours a few and leaves the rest.
poem by Valsa George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Big City Girls
(myles goodwyn)
Published by northern goody two tunes, ltd./capac - ascap
Late night hustle goin down in the city
A one way street on the wrong side of town
Young and foolish, man dont you know
All we could see were
Ladies in the night, walkin a straight line
Ladies in the night, workin overtime
Ladies in the night, doin the hustle
Ladies in the night, flexin their muscles
Ladies in the night, big city, big city girls
We worked out a deal with some chicks on the corner
Back at the room it was never to be
No one had money and the girls got so uptight
Ladies in the night, walkin a straight line
Ladies in the night, workin overtime
Ladies in the night, doin the hustle
Ladies in the night, flexin their muscles
Ladies in the night, big city, big city girls, so tough
Baby I know, its just what I see
Baby I know, its not what I need
Big city, big city girls
The next thing you know, things got rough, babe
They carved out a warnin with a switch blade knife
The message was clear, if you wanna play, you gotta pay
Ladies in the night, walkin a straight line
Ladies in the night, workin overtime
Ladies in the night, doin the hustle
Ladies in the night, flexin their muscles
Ladies in the night, big city, big city girls
song performed by by April Wine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Yonge Street
See the people walkin up and down
See the people movin all around
On the streets of my hometown on yonge street
Longest street in the world they say
Summertime soon slips away
I hope Ill see you one fine day on yonge street
Everywhere you go in a city by the lake
Back there in the flow you may give a hand a shake
Everyone you pass seems to wanna say hello
Even late at night on the freshly fallen snow
See the children jumpin all around
See the parents looking up and down
Upon the streets of my hometown on yonge street
Its a mean street if you choose
Its a lean street when you lose
An in-between street when you cruise on yonge street
Everywhere you go in a city by the lake
Youll be sure and find its a case of give and take
Everyone you pass seems to want to say hello
Even late at night when the streets are all aglow
Its the longest street in the world
With the most feet in the world
Another street where boy meets girl on yonge street
See the people walkin up and down
See the people movin all around
Those are the streets of my hometown on yonge street
Everywhere you walk people almost say hello
Even late at night when the streets are all aglow
On yonge street
On yonge street
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Church Street, Pretoria
Right down the street the traffic lights are green
and a couple of homeless men stand around a fire
in a half drum and ambulances and police cars scream
while they past rows and rows of flats for hire
and a couple of kids stand smoking at the stream
and this is reality, the heart of the city.
On the sidewalk pedestrians walk in crowds of men,
women and some children, some booted up to the knee
others with mini skirts short enough to condemn them
and my city stays lovely to me.
People queue for fried chicken, fish
and chips at shops and cafés and the smells fill my nose
and tomatoes and onions, lamb and steak are fried with a hiss
and in the traffic an angry speed-cop tries to retain his pose
when a minibus taxi almost runs him over, gives him a fright
at a flickering traffic light
and cars stream by into the coming night.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Main Street
(For S.M.L.)
I like to look at the blossomy track of the moon upon the sea,
But it isn't half so fine a sight as Main Street used to be
When it all was covered over with a couple of feet of snow,
And over the crisp and radiant road the ringing sleighs would go.
Now, Main Street bordered with autumn leaves, it was a pleasant thing,
And its gutters were gay with dandelions early in the Spring;
I like to think of it white with frost or dusty in the heat,
Because I think it is humaner than any other street.
A city street that is busy and wide is ground by a thousand wheels,
And a burden of traffic on its breast is all it ever feels:
It is dully conscious of weight and speed and of work that never ends,
But it cannot be human like Main Street, and recognise its friends.
There were only about a hundred teams on Main Street in a day,
And twenty or thirty people, I guess, and some children out to play.
And there wasn't a wagon or buggy, or a man or a girl or a boy
That Main Street didn't remember, and somehow seem to enjoy.
The truck and the motor and trolley car and the elevated train
They make the weary city street reverberate with pain:
But there is yet an echo left deep down within my heart
Of the music the Main Street cobblestones made beneath a butcher's cart.
God be thanked for the Milky Way that runs across the sky,
That's the path that my feet would tread whenever I have to die.
Some folks call it a Silver Sword, and some a Pearly Crown,
But the only thing I think it is, is Main Street, Heaventown.
poem by Joyce Kilmer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Can We Just Stop & Talk Awhile
(jose mari chan)
Fancy meeting you alone in the crowd
Couldn't help but notice your smile
While everybody else around us is going about
Can we just stop and talk awhile?
I've been often told our world's growing old
And that friends are harder to find
Do tell me more about yourself
We could share a thought or two
Now who would mind?
Maybe then we could go for a ride
Drive down to the countryside
Get away from the gray
And frenzied hurly-burly of the city life
Early yet to say what lies ahead
It's the first day of the rest of our lives
Can we just stop and talk awhile
Get to know each other
Who are we to know?
Love could be waiting at the end
'round that bend and so
Let's stop and talk awhile
Maybe then we could go for a ride
Drive down to the countryside
Get away from the gray
And frenzied hurly-burly of the city life
Early yet to say what lies ahead
It's the first day of the rest of our lives
Can we just stop and talk awhile
Get to know each other
Who are we to know?
Love could be waiting at the end
'round that bend and so
Let's stop and talk awhile
Let's stop and talk awhile
Let's stop and talk awhile
Let's stop and talk awhile
song performed by by Lea Salonga
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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City Of Worcester
Worcester, the city of noise,
Walking along these city streets,
Seeing people busy,
pacing,
Cracked city walks,
Aged city houses,
Beautiful city air, '
Never seems to be a minute to spare,
As cars stream along,
Cops and fire trucks pass down my street.
Loud children playing in the streets.
As I walk down the street of mine,
I hear parents yelling at their children.
Dogs barking as you walk by,
Houses that are old and crusty,
Men and women fighting.
This right here is the city I was born in.
The City Of Worcester!
poem by Cassandra Prew
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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Can We Just Stop Talk Awhile
(jose mari chan)
Fancy meeting you alone in the crowd
Couldnt help but notice your smile
While everybody else around us is going about
Can we just stop and talk awhile?
Ive been often told our worlds growing old
And that friends are harder to find
Do tell me more about yourself
We could share a thought or two
Now who would mind?
Maybe then we could go for a ride
Drive down to the countryside
Get away from the gray
And frenzied hurly-burly of the city life
Early yet to say what lies ahead
Its the first day of the rest of our lives
Can we just stop and talk awhile
Get to know each other
Who are we to know?
Love could be waiting at the end
round that bend and so
Lets stop and talk awhile
Maybe then we could go for a ride
Drive down to the countryside
Get away from the gray
And frenzied hurly-burly of the city life
Early yet to say what lies ahead
Its the first day of the rest of our lives
Can we just stop and talk awhile
Get to know each other
Who are we to know?
Love could be waiting at the end
round that bend and so
Lets stop and talk awhile
Lets stop and talk awhile
Lets stop and talk awhile
Lets stop and talk awhile
song performed by by Lea Salonga
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heat In The City
Bumper to bumper traffic in the heat of the city
The air is thick and dusty full of smog and gritty
Dirty Yellow Cabs contributing to noisy confusion
While a hot dog stand on the corner sells profusion
The pavement is sticky reflecting the heat in waves
Throughout cars are swallowed by hot asphalt graves
Overcrowded busses spit out passengers one by one
While temperatures are rising with an unforgiving sun
Vegetables and fruits for sale covered in dirt and grime
On the sidewalks of the city bait flies in the mean time
People rushing downstairs to the Metro escaping the heat
Only realizing that it is just as bad and by far no retreat
A broken fire hydrant provides the illusion of cool relieve
But only street children bathe in the grey water taking leave
A lonely traffic cop damp with perspiration looks atrocious
Hot sweaty faces wait for his signal resentful and ferocious
Curriers on bikes with sunburns between cars are speeding
Steaming masses waiting for the light before proceeding
The smells of the hot city are overpowering and very strong
Torturing its inhabitants without sense of right and wrong
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Johannesburg
There are mini-bus taxis everywhere
hooting, swerving, stopping anywhere
and people on the street
shouting to each other
as if they are not
in talking distance,
but as if everybody is deaf.
Some hawkers are selling
sweets, cigarettes and newspapers
while others are cooking maize,
porridge and eggs.
Youngsters stand next to
parking meters showing
open parking spaces
and demanding money
to watch vehicles parked there.
Some hobos sleep
in tattered blankets
and smell of wine
and liquor and the sick
sweet odour or retching.
Prostitutes walk up and down
street corners in mini skirts
and t-shirts
with nipples showing through
and have hello smiles
plastered across their faces.
Some gum sniffing children
beg at traffic lights
with twisted arms and legs
and other beggars
have posters wishing you well
or telling you to go to hell.
People queue in lines
waiting for busses
and some stand smoking
while they talk
and businessmen, lawyers,
soldiers, secretaries
are walking quickly past
with briefcases, satchels,
and handbags
and on the sidewalk
there is urine,
blood, vomit, some rotting food
and smoked cigarettes
and everywhere signs
of a city in a country
that is falling apart.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Roving Band Of Lovers
They were a Roving Band of Lovers
kissing hands
smiling and winking.
They bowed to old ladies on the streets
over-tipped waiters
gave young girls flowers
for no reason.
They never cried;
stood on tip-toe
and invited people
to see Infinity;
did dances in the streets
and little plays in the subways;
carried around little cookie trays
made music with harmonicas.
They were a Little Band of Roving Lovers
who made strangers
the Stars
of little Street Plays
asking
'Madam who would you like to be
a star? an astronaut, a great leader?
and then they would produce the prop
and act the play
where instantly
the dream would be
and street stranger
would miraculously
become the Dream They Had Dreamed.
while others looked on.
Singers
bad, good or worse
had the audience to join in
and all songs sound good when sung in crowds.
For True Love's Wish
they produced a Satin Heart
which they passed round the crowd
where each person gave the heart
a tiny touch;
assuring that True Love would come
in time to its recipient.
They were a roving Band of Lovers
Loose on the City Streets.
They were both Real
and Fantasy.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Kolkata
A nice foggy weather
In this exciting winter morning
I am sitting in a bus
Waiting to reach my school
Thinking about some experiences in the past
When suddenly I notice my beautiful city
Through the only window open in the bus
I see the heavy traffic jam
New trams that have been renovated
The buildings that are on a verge of falling down
Men are walking barefooted
Birds are chirping
Students are studying in their vehicles.
Everybody is heading towards work
Cars are being filled with petroleum
Washer men are washing clothes
A group of women are gossiping
All the scenes will never end-
As they are of my amazing city
But now I have to end
As I have almost reached.
I know my city has been developing
And I will never let each individual's thought end
I will make a step forward
And work for my city
As I have been influenced enough
And I realize the worth of it
I know I love my city a lot
And I have learnt to value it.
poem by Minu Jaiswal
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Mr. Mine
Notice how he has numbered the blue veins
in my breast. Moreover there are ten freckles.
Now he goes left. Now he goes right.
He is building a city, a city of flesh.
He's an industrialist. He has starved in cellars
and, ladies and gentlemen, he's been broken by iron,
by the blood, by the metal, by the triumphant
iron of his mother's death. But he begins again.
Now he constructs me. He is consumed by the city.
>From the glory of words he has built me up.
>From the wonder of concrete he has molded me.
He has given me six hundred street signs.
The time I was dancing he built a museum.
He built ten blocks when I moved on the bed.
He constructed an overpass when I left.
I gave him flowers and he built an airport.
For traffic lights he handed at red and green
lollipops. Yet in my heart I am go children slow.
poem by Anne Sexton
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The City is Short Today
The city is short today
and it can’t be anymore
than just a few blocks wide today
and the city is grey today,
grey and cold
and the city is short today
the skyscrapers,
only a few inches tall now,
sway back and forth,
caught in the grasp of a
sharp, cutting wind,
the sky scrapers rankle me today
and the city is short today
and the people walk about today
like zombies,
tiny zombies,
their faces and clothes
lack any colour,
and they resemble ants,
they wait on the street corner,
waiting for a miniscule bus
to take them out of this
tiny city
and the city is short today,
and grey
and cold
and small,
so very small
and yet, it towers over me.
Copyright (C) MMIV (2004)
poem by Derek R. Audette
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Big City Nights
Music :rudolf schenker
Lyrics:klaus meine
When the daylight is falling down into the night
And the sharks try to cut a big piece out of life
It feels alright to go out to catch an outrageous thrill
But its more like spinning wheels of fortune
Which never stand still
Big city, big city nights
You keep me burning
Big city, big city nights
When the sunlight is rising up in my eyes
And the long night has left me back at somebodys side
It feels alright for a long sweet minute like hours before
But its more like looking out for something
I cant find anymore
Big city, big city nights
You keep me burning
Big city, big city nights
Always yearning
There is no dream
That you cant make true, if youre looking for love
But theres no girl
Whos burning the ice away from my heart
Maybe tonight!
Big city, big city nights
You keep me burning
Big city, big city nights
Always yearning
Big city, big city nights
You keep me burning
Big city, big city nights
Always yearning
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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High In The City
I got the time, I got my feet
Lets go hit the street
High in the city
High in the city
I got my mace and you got your knife
You gotta protect your own life
High in the city
High in the city
I wanna get high in the city
I wanna stay alive here in the city
I wanna stay high in the city
High in the city
High in the city
Lets not walk down sutton place
You know everybody there got an akitas
High in the city
High in the city
Dont wanna talk politics today
I feel too good let me have my way
High in the city
High in the city
Watch out for that guy on your right
Seen him on the news last saturday night
He was high in the city
High in the city
Hey, look theyre setting fire to that jeep
Theres not much you can keep
High in the city
High in the city
I wanna get high in the city
I wanna stay alive in the city
I wanna stay high in the city
High in the city
High in the city
So many people feeling low
And theres only one way to go to
Get high in the city
High in the city
Lets grap a pie, lets hit the park
Ill kiss and hug you till it gets dark
Here in the city
Getting high in the city
(high in the city)
(high in the city and youre looking so pretty)
(feelin pretty witty, gettin high off of the city)
(hi-ai-ai-ai, high in the city)
(high in the city)
(high in the city and youre looking so pretty)
(feelin pretty witty, gettin high off of the city)
(hi-ai-ai-ai, high in the city)
(high in the city)
(high in the city and youre looking so pretty)
(feelin pretty witty, gettin high off of the city)
(hi-ai-ai-ai, high in the city)
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Along the streets of Paris
As twilight diminishes the day’s hope,
The street lights beep alarm,
The crowds throng the rushing pavements,
Cold winds chilling their strawberry cheeks,
The traffic horns pierce the strained ears,
Pedestrians brush past,
Their cigars smoking up desires,
The church bells cry reassurance,
As I run through the streets of Paris,
Alone,
Aching for the pillow,
Yet dreading,
A night of broken dreams.
Dem Inner City Blues
I got dem Inner City Blues,
The same ones that made Marvin wanna Holla!
It's hard for people like me to get a dolla,
So i can make ends meet
So i gotta resort to bein' in the streets
Slangin' dem thangs to crack fiends
Not knowin' if they the one that's gonna
Have me doin' time on cell block 18.
Dem Inner City Blues ain't no joke
Got me so stressed out I just sit back,
Roll up some Haze and toke,
On probation for a year,
If P.O. pull a urine I know
I'm up outta here!
Damn those Inner City Blues,
I wish I could wake up and
Have some good news,
'Cause I'm tired of
Dem Inner City Blues.
poem by by unknown author
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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