The Sullen Place
Outside the city is a paradise
The sunsets are amazing
Lakes and falls are enchanting
Hills and mountains are green
White ocean beaches are welcoming
Shallow or deep diving is serene
The corals under the waters vibrant
The city of Manila is crowded
Left no room for plants or trees
The streets were never empty
Loud stereos are echoing from a distant
Parents screaming and the children are noisy
Too much noise the city never sleeps
Hardly notice the birds chirp
Like a person with schizophrenia
Philippines has too many faces
Elegance and richness for some
Starvation and homelessness for few
Being away is nice and grand
But not able to go back is sad
The place is definitely love and hate
poem by by unknown author
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Related quotes
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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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
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While The City Sleeps
What goes on behind closed doors, private wounds, open sores
Youre your own worst enemy and cheap thrills bring you to your knees
Its thumbs down for someone you know, and its easy come and easy go
Chorus:
Burn your bridges, take what you can get
Go for the throat cause you paid your debt
Livin well is the best revenge, so give em hell
While the city sleeps - its all there in black and white
While the city sleeps - through the eye of the needle, gotta thread your life
While the city sleeps - while the city sleeps
Its a hit or miss, an eye for an eye, live for today, and dont ask why
For better or worse, you bought and sold
They love you while youre hot and leave you when youre cold
Chorus
While the city sleeps - yeah, better run for your life
Take your troubles to the night
While the city sleeps - yeah, beggars, thieves and losers, theres no relief
While the city sleeps - theres no relief, while the city sleeps
While the city sleeps - yeah
Chorus
While the city sleeps - while the city sleeps
While the city sleeps - while the city sleeps
While the city sleeps - yeah, theres no relief
While the city sleeps
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Better Weather Here Than Somewhere Else
It's a Northern winter wonderland
Happy couples walking hand in hand
Department stores aglow with lights
Christmas trees always in sight
Snow falls down on New York City
Snow falls down on New York City
It's true that the place is lit up bright
And maybe the streets look amazing at night
And while the country can seem kind of plain
Alabama's got sunshine when New York's got rain
Frost on rooftops and gifts with bows
Teddy bears in shop windows
Santa in the mall with children on his lap
So much to do, so many presents to wrap
And snow falls down on New York City
Snow falls down on New York City
It's true that the place is lit up bright
And maybe the streets look amazing at night
And while the country can seem kind of plain
Alabama's got sunshine when New York's got rain
There's no white Christmas for Dixie this year
But we don't need snow to bring holiday cheer
Maybe we're simple but we still do our part
To keep Christmas a tradition that lives in the heart
So let the snow fall down on new York City
Just let it fall down on New York City
Birds are silent
Today is a stupid day
Since you are away home
Birds were silent today
I want them to be noisy all the time
I hope they don’t fly away
They should always sing for us
In this old city
There is nothing left
Except memories
Actually I am filled with the memories of you
Your face is like a city for me
A city full of joy
A city which heals me when I am wounded
A city which accommodates me
Whenever you are away from me
I am frightened
Frightened like a baby in the dark
For me, my love you are my light
Sometimes I hate this room
For it is too small to occupy my love
When we are in this room
Locked in and locked together
I always look at the street light opposite to us
It’s like an old man searching for something
Sometimes it looks at me
With it’s fainted eyes
But it always smiles at you, my dear
Oh my dear please comeback soon
Birds start singing.
poem by Pramod Sen
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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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While in Goa!
Coming to you Oh! city of beaches
Ever nice your plesaure when someone reaches
Everyone dreams of the times to visit
A journey off the sun into a cool spirit
Pleasing is your weather which calmness teaches
Coming to you Oh! city of beaches
Ever nice your plesaure when someone reaches
Breeze of the coconut trees within a mile
The sea has an instinct of sudden smile
Healing of the shore offers gathering of riches
Coming to you Oh! city of beaches
Ever nice your plesaure when someone reaches
poem by by unknown author
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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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Sydney my Love
Sydney my love, Sydney my city.
Pretty pretty place,
Plenty- plenty beauty.
Sydney my love, Sydney my city.
First rays of sun –
Spread here fun,
Splendour and majesty,
Nothing so beauty.
Sydney my love, Sydney my city.
Tidy beaches, green green trees,
Heavenly blowing cool cool breeze,
Kissing the shore waves sporty.
Sydney my love, Sydney my city.
Fort Dension, port Jackson,
Kings Cross, Opera attraction,
Harbour bridge, Bondi beach,
Place to find calm & peace,
Sydney is our identity.
Sydney my love, Sydney my city.
Kangaroo, emu, blue mountain,
Adventure, romance, 4x, fun.
Flora fauna, folk, fidelity.
Sydney my love, Sydney my city.
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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I Still Love the City, But the City Doesn't Love Me
Some have told me the city will ruin me
Some said the city is an ugly place
The city has marred better men than me
I hadn’t lived in the city for quite some time,
But living there again was an amazing experience
The city glowed with a dazzling beauty,
Pumping a vitality in my veins
Through my heart, an exuberant,
Youthful feeling of excitement
I let the city have my heart.
I thought the city gave me hers.
This love was not meant to last.
I had to leave the city for a little while.
The city couldn’t handle the distance,
Provoking the city to eject me from
The city’s heart, ripping and tearing
Until I was only a memory, a fling
So I left the city in search of a new life.
I found myself alone in the desert.
I convinced myself the city was only
A memory locked away
The days were sweltering and arduous,
The nights were frigid and excruciating
These times were spent alone, in silence
Where almost no life is sustainable,
And I ignored the ghosts which
Maliciously brought about vibrant,
Heartwarming thoughts of the city
I turned North, the city far passed
The horizon, though its glimmer
Reaches me still
Its lights do nothing but illuminate
The darkness this desert has
Brought into my heart
And the damage my lungs have
Sustained as they drown in my
Quiet tears
In this moment, I unleashed
An ugly, primal scream
From the depths of my marred soul,
The waves traveling through miles of
Nothingness
It was then when I realized
I still love the city.
But the city doesn’t love me.
poem by Alex Gomez
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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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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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City Dreams
the city sleeps
beneath my feet
the glow of streetlights, cars, and store signs
keep me warm tonight
its cold here in the skys
angel wings graze my skin
and the clouds collect my tears
the only way
I can find peace in this place
Is six feet below
The city streets
Or way above where the city
Sleeps
poem by Lauren Miller
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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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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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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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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 Of A Mountain Man
I come from Land of bracken hills and green meads fringed by hedges
And I am still a mountain man and rough around the edges
And now I live in Sherbrooke Shire in the Dandenong Ranges
From Bracken hills to gum tree hills the scenery so changes.
I've never cared for city life and I feel only pity
For those who have to live and work in the smoky inner city
Pollution clogs the city skies, the traffic noise and rattle
Down in the smoky concrete World life's like a constant battle.
The mountain man a healthy man the air he breathe is cleaner
And he's living in a Natural World a World that's quiet and greener
He's living in a Natural World his life span ought be longer
The mountain man a healthier man than city man far stronger.
I love the hills the quiet hills, the woods where birds are singing
And every time I leave the hills back to the hills my thoughts go winging
For I don't like the Concrete World the World of man's endeavour
And I'll always be a mountain man a mountain man forever.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Promises Unkept for friend Chad
The back streets of the city hide
a multitude of untold tales
The mean streets where the stench abides
of rancid dreams left to decay.
Far different from the countryside
the green hills and the pleasant vales.
Where simple country folk reside.
Fresh dreams emerging every day.
The city street may well decide
which man succeeds and which man fails.
The ebbing flowing surging tides
of little men who have no say.
The city fathers try to hide
(but their efforts are bound to fail.)
the city’s seamy underside.
Where petty criminals hold sway.
Some folks escape by suicide
and others fill the city’s jail.
There’s poverty on every side.
It seems the problems here to stay.
Here ideologies collide
But more is said than’s ever done.
The city has no cause for pride.
We’ve little choice but wait and pray.
The city fathers say they’ve tried
but I beg leave to doubt their word.
I’m totally unsatisfied
There’s jam tomorrow none today.
17/08/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Sojourner
Are your herds all dead
That you walk the street alone?
And do you have your own bed
When the toiling day is done?
City nomad without his herd
Wanderer, pilgrim of the mind
Wont you rest your tired head
You herdsman of a kind?
Were your ancestors cattle rearers
Who sought where grasses were green?
But you have mingled with the city dwellers
Leaving your herds either dead or lean
Tell me, city nomad
Why did you leave your father's way
And choose the city, tis' sad
That you roam the streets day by day
Or are you of the gypsy race
And your clan, minstrels and magicians?
Who wander from place to place
Sleeping and waking in caravans
Foxes have holes, and bird the trees
Do you have any to call your home?
Some live in houses, some in tents
Why do choose the streets to roam?
I am but a sojourner in every city
Seeking my God and the crown
And may he lead me to that heavenly city
A better place to call my own! !
poem by Okonkwo Osamedua. Allen
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