NYC
Learn more about other poetry terms
Mother swept Brother and I to NYC; Midwesterners to Midtown.
A Cerberus-eared copy of Percy Jackson our demigod guide book lowdown.
Wander the Met, seek your Greek and Roman muses.
Trapped behind the thought of danger
The bronx or shall i say most people full of anger
Growing up in a cloud of smoke
The air is cool and inviting The mosquitoes suck at my succulent skin Rejoicing at the soft and limber limbs I possess Streetlights illuminate my smile As I witness a young child snoozing in a stroller
The rain was
pelting
pelting
pelting
everything
as a young person ripped through New York streets
like his feet were actually parts of a jet engine.
take the a train to fulton, walk three blocks
drop off your lunch as if it is on the way to my destination
only to head back to the apartment
and hope you don't think you're an inconvenience
Yesterday on the subway
We sat
Discussing politics or gossip
When a blind beggar spoke.
Stabbed in the eye and homeless
He blessed the crowd for their generosity
Which had yet to be proven
Dont you hate how things waste away
Here one day, gone the next
I guess everyone has a debt to pay
Laughter and sadness, life and death
This is the cycle of time
Circling the universe like a behemoth
Everyone always says college is a clean slate, that you start over new
This intrigued me because for the past 17 years were nothing too exciting
I spent my days going to class where I had very few friends
The Empire State of Light
What can one be in the city of dreams?
Should I be me or should I be she.
Limitless light surrounding
My hearts pumps constantly pounding
Everyday
Same time
Your front door creaks, did you notice?
Mine does, too.
10:30 AM, you walk out of your apartment-
The one right across the hall from mine-
And I make sure I walk out, too.
Straphangers stand with downcast eyes,
individuality breeds a broken sense of pride.
Wandering busy streets looking for a place to hide,
with this apathy towards the city,
I cannot rightfully call it mine.
From the time I was small, I was obsessed with the mall,In pre-school, I cared what I wore.I laid all my clothes on the bed every day,They had to be pressed, that’s for sure.
I stand in the center where the four crossroads of the world meet.
I look up as the late night darkness settles in, but not in this city, we never sleep.
Standing on the sidewalk
At the intersection of 7th Avenue and Broadway,
between west 46th and west 45th street.
I gaze into the distance,
I've seen the dirty city's heart
Through battered train windows revealed
by the peachy gaze of a streetlamp army
are countless streets and neighborhoods
each made up of infinite detail
Where is the dream that I once held close?
Did it run from the mistakes?
I haven't seek a brighter day, but seized the moment.
I've created a moment that will make me,
Infinite.
sometimes
i walk barefoot in the streets of queens
the smell of wet cement
is all but too familiar
to me
pile of dog shit on the sidewalk
gum stuck to my filthy
native feet
A day. 24 hours. 1,440 minutes. 84,600 seconds.
So many things can change. shift. evolve. dissolve. resolve.
Revolve around useless emotions and empty words.
Who you were at 8am is not who you are at 8pm.
Here in the big city that never sleeps… The building of Empire, the Midtown rush, From places to go, and people to meet, Reborn every day from chaotic hush. The boulevard of lights and New Year’s Dreams, Isle of immigrants, Lady Liberty. Horse-dra
Birthed by summer water pumping from fire hydrants - as we drown each other in laughter but that was before firefighters burnt down our banter with their wrench.
The subway is never empty at night.
By midnigth the street pets come out.
They scatter throught out the subway grounds.
In search of memories people left behind.
Items of comfort.
I sit down in the window seatand set my bag down beside me.I need to be alone.The train begins its epileptic convulsionsand screeches from within itself like it has Tourette's,but my only affirmation
A Look Through My Eyes. Outside stroll, what do I see? I see the charisma, the spirit, of New York City. Skylines, and skyscrapers out in the distance. My oh my what a sight to witness.
why do I write?
well, why do birds fly?
why do fish swim?
not just because it's an essential method of transportation.
because its an escape
an escape from the deadly locks of their predators
If it weren't for this pen you probably wouldn't even know my name.
It's saved my life so many times
When I thought no one was listening
On those days when I felt like the world was bearing down on my shoulders
Birds chirp as
light shimmers over this city of mine.
The birds sleep no more time
than humans do here.
In New York City, you’ll find two kinds of people;
those who see something and say something,
and those who see something and assume nothing is wrong.
As I walked to the South Street Seaport one weekend last Summer,
Burning ashes fall upon my shoulders,
and screaming bodies run.
I look through the blur of faces,
and don't know what can be done.
