The Jumper
He swayed on top of the tall tower
and braved a cold Chicago shower.
His bank accounts were in arrears
the biggest sum was owed to Sears.
So, fittingly, he'd wisely chosen
Sears Tower, now he was half frozen.
And, as he tried to catch the mood
he smelled a whiff of Polish food.
It had arisen from the city,
and what a godforsaken pity!
Could he not go and have a last
hot sausage? It would be a blast.
A helicopter now was drifting
across the windy city's shifting
and pregnant clouds, it hovered loudly.
So, he decided, he would, proudly,
head down below to get a taste.
But then he fell, and what a waste.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Related quotes
The Windy City
We climbed so high that day-
Recklessly in love,
I straddled the Sears Tower.
Burning desires drove us shameless,
mutual heat tore through
our bodies
Like arsonists, we lit Chicago on fire-
yet again.
Hot sex and history making;
twisting tornadoes
spinning wild in the
windy city.
You called me beautiful,
I deemed you so very
Midwestern.
A girl with the gypsy upbringing,
handing out labels-
Ex-husband guy.
Rebound guy.
One night stand guy.
Italian guy, ciao.
I never settle-
not even down.
Not again.
Not yet.
We've yet to meet.
poem by Robin Bennett
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If you ever fall off the Sears Tower, just go real limp, because maybe you'll look like a dummy and people will try to catch you because, hey, free dummy.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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the Golden Horn Of Istanbul
THE ‘GOLDEN HORN’ OF
ISTANBUL
It is an inlet arm from the Bosphoros Strait,
Which stretches inwards towards the west;
And curves up like a deer’s horn, -
Known to the world as the ‘Golden Horn’!
It separates the old Istanbul’s historic city,
From its modern counterpart in the north;
Forming the world’s longest natural harbor,
A waterway almost 7.5 km long!
The harbor was once the Naval Headquarters
of the Byzantine Empire!
When a heavy chain guarded the inlet’s
entrance;
Stretching across the mouth of the ‘Horn’ entire;
From the Old City to the Galata Tower! *
The old city stands on seven hillocks, once
known as the ‘City of Seven Hills’;
And top of every rise, a temple, or a mosque
or a monument is seen, -
With its steeples, towers and minarets, the city
stands solemnly still!
Each building here has a story to tell;
In 1453 to the Ottoman Turks the city fell!
As I stood ruminating on one such high rise,
And saw the sun going down in the west;
The inlet waters appeared bathed in gold,
Glittering in the sun’s setting rays!
And at that moment I realized, as I looked at
the inlet nice and long,
How aptly it has been named, as the inlet of
‘The Golden Horn’!
-Raj Nandy
New Delhi
13 May 09
(*Galata Tower is located at the entrance of
the inlet- in the northern half of the city.
‘The Golden Horn’ waterway divides the
city of Istanbul into northern & southern
halves!)
Paris By Night
I’ve decided to spend a few days away,
To celebrate one of life’s big birthdays.
So, here I am in the famous ‘city of love’,
Wrapped up in my coat, scarf and gloves.
I’m at the Eiffel Tower, up on the second floor;
Taking in the City’s panoramic views, with awe.
I text my friends, but my fingers are frozen cold;
So that my mobile, my hand can hardly now hold.
Being less than a week into the brand New Year,
It isn’t long before the daylight begins to disappear.
It’s nearly six o’clock and, soon, the tour bus departs,
So my descent of the Tower, in earnest, now starts.
But, when I reach the bottom, I find I’m a little too late:
The back of the tour bus is just pulling out of the gate.
At first, I feel worried, and I admit, just a little bit scared,
But, the sights I see are ones, which, are beyond compare.
If I’d caught the bus, I’d have missed these sights:
Sights, which fill my soul with such sheer delight.
I see the bright lights on the Eiffel Tower flicker away;
It’s a delightful sight, and now I’m glad that I stayed.
I decide that, missing the bus, was a blessing in disguise,
As I tuck into the visual feast, set before my very eyes.
The long walk back is pretty long, and really very cold;
Unlike pairs of lovers, I have no warm hand, which, to hold.
I see the tall, illuminated, obelisk and the observation wheel;
My excited eyes are greatly enjoying this rich, cultural meal.
I see the glass pyramid at The Louvre, gently glowing blue;
If I had managed to catch the bus, I’d have missed this too.
I work my way back to the banks of the mighty River Seine,
And glance at the stunning buildings opposite, again and again.
The important buildings and monuments are all shrouded in light:
I snap away with my camera, attempting to capture this very night.
Each time I stumble across a new and glorious sight,
I say a soft, whispered ‘wow! ’ into the darkened night.
Further up river, at Chatelet Metro station, I board the next train.
Memories of what I’ve seen tonight, forever, with me, will remain.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Chicago Samba
I live in chicago
A very windy city
But tonight I will dance the Chicago samba
Once again
But when I dance the chicago blues
I sweat like crazy
And I feel like a kid again
But when I hear the chicago samba being played by the local musiciams
In the streets of chicago I get very excited
Because I know that their music cam be heard also from faraway
And bring me back memories of home
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Tower of Souls
How tall is this tower
Filled to the brim
More and more each hour
Every new soul, Each grim.
I stand outside looking in
How soon before I'm inside looking out
No soul as I, full of sin
Wants to shout.
Does this tower expand
To allow others in
No room to stand
Like waste into a bin
Dark clouds overhead
Thunder rolls, lightening strikes
No rest, or sweet dreams in bed
Toss and turn, the devil likes.
'Roll up, roll up' the devil cries
'Something for everyone'
He shouts with no shame for his lies
So many souls, but you'r still alone.
Driving rain and tempest
Do you shelter at the tower?
When your mind is weakest
He calls every hour.
poem by Robert Green
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Heartache City
Hit the city, hit the night
Hit the club, sip the wine
Just remember to leave on time
Hit the red lights, check the girls
Youre steppin into another world
See the man, hell spin you alive
But just remember to leave on time
Heartache, city of heartache city
City of heartbreak pity
Heartache city
Crazy people in heartache city
City of heartache city
City of heartbreak pity
Heartache city, its a city of sin
Check the star club, see the stars
See the action
In the back street bars
Lookin for love
Youre in the wrong place
Tricks for kicks
Can you stand the pace
Heartache, city of heartache city
City of heartbreak pity
Heartache city
Crazy people in heartache city
City of heartache city
City of heartbreak pity
Heartache city
Hit the city, hit the night
Crazy people, neon light
You pay your money
Its no real crime
But just remember to leave on time
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Tower Name
The Lord’s name
Power name
A tower name
A strong name
And power-tower name
A strong tower, the name
A safe place, the name
Good in every situation, the name
Has unmatched power, the name
And a place of fortification, the name
When spiritually attacked, to the name run
When the past foibles clouds the mind, to the name run
When disappointed, to the name run
When failure cripples in, to the name run
And when tempted, to the name run
In the name, security
In the name, safety
In the name, peace
In the name, strong power
And in the name, a strong tower
A strong tower, strong refuge
A strong tower, stout defense
A strong tower, powerful protection
A strong tower, shield from the past
And a strong tower, enemy at bay to put
Whatever enemy offensive, call the name
Like Joseph, make a dash to the name
So portable, so wherever, the tower name
A refuge from doubt, selfishness, malice
And a shelter from slenderness, loneliness, envy and the like
So as the devil launches attack
A run to the tower name make
Call upon the power name
Stay in the power-tower
And watch him, sulking away
The Bible assures us: “The name of the Lord is a strong tower: the righteous runneth into it, and is safe” (Prov.18: 10, KJV) .
poem by Obed Akuma
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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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Holloween poem
She loves to move alone over cold water,
She knows to move over the dark, cold water;
She loves to toss a coin into the cold, dark water,
To know it is lost beneath the water,
To later know it alone beneath the dark water.
Under the city, in the dark,
Water flows over perpetual rock.
She knows her tower above the city,
She loves to hover over the city, to see
The marrow pulse and glow, she knows
The death moan of the city, how it jewles,
How it counts, how it stretches over the shuttered provinces,
To the farthest border.
Under the city, in the dark,
Water flows over perpetual rock.
She is a ghost in the air, an Ariel;
She tells the screamers till there is silence,
She silences the wolf and the seal, the fouled horse;
She stares the hollow to remorse, to
Recall the cold, the dark, she loves
To move alone with the dark, cold water.
Under the silk-crack, the skyscape,
Under the cry-field, the tool room,
Under the city, in the dark,
Water flows over perpetual rock
poem by Rozen Maiden
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Tower Of London
Let me take you to trafalgar square
Let me take you there
Every streets a fashion catwalk
Everyones debonair
Let me take you to piccadilly
Guess it leads somewhere
Tower over centuries, tower over london
Tower up and frankly Im amazed
Whats done cannot be undone, not here not in london
Whats done can never be erased
So, tower up! - its those little things
Make life interesting- tower of london!
Tower up! - wasting time
Yours and mine - tower of london!
Hip london! hip london!
Let me take you to st.jamess square
Let me groove you there
Diplomats get target practice
In the open air
Psychobillies scream blue murder
Then they hit mayfair
Tower over centuries, tower over london
Tower up and frankly Im amazed
Whats done cannot be undone, not here not in london
Whats done can never be erased
So, tower up! - its those little things
Make life interesting- tower of london!
Tower up! - wasting time
Precious time - tower of london!
Tower up! Ill meet you there
Ill be there - tower of london
New york! - dont make me laugh
Ive seen photographs - tower of london...
song performed by by Abc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chicago Sunrise
I was travelling the new world
and on my way from north to south
I found myself in Chicago
I saw the sunrise and forgot about you
It shone a different light
and I escaped you - there is someone else on my mind for now
It brought to light the windy city,
cold and bleak,
like the embers of you and me
I knew I was off to a better places
where the sun shines, clearing my head
there you fade with the setting sun
poem by Victoria Mcvicar
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Parisian April
Rain drips icicily on Paris's April quay
As blossoms of cherry stir the misty air
The left bank ponders over cafe' au lait
While the whiff of tobacco releases the day's care
The Romantic, with the lonely, shares the night
In the distance the Tower of Eiffel stands tall
Overlooking the mortal city of inner light
And Notre dame's divinity cushions an atheist's fall
An artist's brush can impress the memory
A feeling bottled is a moment cherished
In a stolen kiss to wedding ceremony
That falls into a love so sadly blemished
Here for an eternity I am so lost
A solitary traveler in a dreamer's maze
The Seine riffles through years of human cost
Where Voltaire cursed revolution's bloody craze
poem by C.A. Morrow
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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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Summer In The City
Hot town, summer in the city
Back of my neck getting dirty and gritty
Been down, isnt it a pity
Doesnt seem to be a shadow in the city
All around, people looking half dead
Walking on the sidewalk, hotter than a match head
But at night its a different world
Go out and find a girl
Come-on come-on and dance all night
Despite the heat itll be alright
And babe, dont you know its a pity
That the days cant be like the nights
In the summer, in the city
In the summer, in the city
Cool town, evening in the city
Dressing so fine and looking so pretty
Cool cat, looking for a kitty
Gonna look in every corner of the city
Till Im wheezing like a bus stop
Running up the stairs, gonna meet you on the rooftop
But at night its a different world
Go out and find a girl
Come-on come-on and dance all night
Despite the heat itll be alright
And babe, dont you know its a pity
That the days cant be like the nights
In the summer, in the city
In the summer, in the city
Hot town, summer in the city
Back of my neck getting dirty and gritty
Been down, isnt it a pity
Doesnt seem to be a shadow in the city
All around, people looking half dead
Walking on the sidewalk, hotter than a match head
But at night its a different world
Go out and find a girl
Come-on come-on and dance all night
Despite the heat itll be alright
And babe, dont you know its a pity
That the days cant be like the nights
In the summer, in the city
In the summer, in the city
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sunken City
I walked beside a quiet sea,
At starlight, while the west was gray
And clear, though faint and far away;
Through the stilled water, forth me,
Voices of bells came dreamily;
No breeze more manifest than they.
Some say a thousand years ago
There throve a city on an isle
Beyond the headland, mile on mile,
Which, in a night of fear and woe,
Sank in the glassy depth below—
Sank tower and dwelling, beam and tile.
And now, when twinkling skies are clear,
Withing the sunken city there,
The sad ghosts ring their past despair
Out on the mermen’s atmosphere—
Ring loudly all, that life may hear
Dead sadness stir the ample air.
To me this city is not strange;
I feel familiar with each gate,
Each tower and street unfortunate,
And, wheresoe’er I dwell or range,
Its mem’ry-picture does not change,
Limned by its stern destroyer, Fate.
Its labarums, on roof and mast,
Swam in the light with silken arms,
No wrathful wars, nor dread alarms,
The streeted splendor overcast;
But, on a throne of gems amassed,
Sat Pleasure with Circean charma.
Yet came the hour of loss and fear.
The city sank, tower, wall, and mart,
Its brittle site was rent apart,
And all went down that once was dear;
But oft, in loneliness, I hear
Its sunken bells ring in my heart.
I beat no note of vain regret.
My hope-wrought city of To-be.
Youth seen, upon the future’s sea,
Has vanished, and its sun is set;
But broader and diviner yet,
The city of Reality.
For, though its ways be paved with stone,
And hard and rough to toiling feet,
And though, in the accustomed street,
No blazoned garniture is known,
By Fate, God’s hand, His will is shown,
And love makes humble service sweet.
poem by Henry Abbey
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Alma Mater
A haunted town thou art to me.
-- Andrew Lang
To-day in Florence all the air
Is soft with spring, with sunlight fair;
In the tall street gay folks are met;
Duomo and Tower gleam overhead,
Like jewels in the city set,
Fair-hued and many-faceted.
Against the old grey stones are piled
February violets, pale and sweet,
Whose scent of earth in woodland wild
Is wafted up and down the street.
The city's heart is glad ; my own
Sits lightly on its bosom's throne.
* * * * * * *
Why is it that I see to-day,
Imaged as clear as in a dream,
A little city far away,
A churlish sky, a sluggish stream,
Tall clust'ring trees and gardens fair,
Dark birds that circle in the air,
Grey towers and fanes ; on either hand,
Stretches of wind-swept meadow-land?
* * * * * * *
Oh, who can sound the human breast?
And this strange truth must be confessed;
That city do I love the best
Wherein my heart was heaviest!
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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Mezzo Cammin
Half of my life is gone, and I have let
The years slip from me and have not fulfilled
The aspiration of my youth, to build
Some tower of song with lofty parapet.
Not indolence, nor pleasure, nor the fret
Of restless passions chat would not be stilled,
But sorrow, and a care that almost killed,
Kept me from what I may accomplish yet;
Though, half way up the hill, I see the Past
Lying beneath me with its sounds and sights,--
A city in the twilight dim and vast,
With smoking roofs, soft bells, and gleaming lights.--
And hear above me on the autumnal blast
The cataract of Death far thundering from the heights.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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