Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Norman Crane Sep 2021
stormless nightscape
neon lightning
car-thunder and auto-hum
the dark doldrums
sky scrapes
violence even in brightest daytime
the city is
its own weather system
tempestuous / slum
lashing / victims
of architecture: humans undone
slithering, slithering
we,    slugs of no sun
Dreaming in City Lights

I dream of you underneath the starry rural skies
And I can’t wait to dream with you ‘neath the bright city lights
Second Part....
Norman Crane Sep 2021
city din under
-standing passengers passing
below the l train
Jeanmarie Sep 2021
It’s a city in the mountain view
**** I’ve never seen something quite like you
So fun and free, yet peaceful-
A constant reminder of nature’s beauty.

For some the growing happens after high school
For others, the change happens in graduate school
I was nervous to make the transition alone
However, him leaving turned out to be the best **** thing since edible cookie dough
This poem is about my transition to graduate school! I love the location and I don’t feel trapped here! I was also making this transition with someone who had recently left my life, but it turned out to be for the better.  I hope you all enjoy! :)
Trojan Aug 2021
They say the city has no landscape
No life
Nothing but concrete
Nothing but steel

They say that
Without ever looking
At the city
In the night

Feral cats
Squirming bugs
And although the trees are small
They loom over small unlit paths

Lonely dogs
Flying moths
And although the buildings are imposing
They too are part of it all

They're our homes
And the homes of rodents
Pigeons
And even more squirming bugs

The city's not dead
But we are
July, 2021
Norman Crane Aug 2021
sweet birdsong consumes
the bitterness of cities
a summer morning
Lev Rosario Aug 2021
There is a rush hour
In the city of my heart
Here people see
Each other as competition
And every dead bird or dark alley
Is a harbinger, a premonition.
Everything comes at the wrong hour
Taxis, jeeps, the tired faces
Heading towards tired places
Deep inside is the insidious machine
The three headed dog, the selfish gene
The one who denies death
The one who craves
And the one who slaves for his breath

There is a rush hour that never stops
An endless coming and going
Trapped inside the gaze of the cyclops
Where there is no wine for soothing
Here, the destination is what matters
The journey is a waste of time
You wait until everyone scatters
And every attempt at rest is a crime
Nida Mahmoed Aug 2021
Karachi,
I love Karachi,
not just because'
this city has allowed to'
my grandparents and'
than my parents to'
make their homes here,
but her sky,
moon, sun, air,
ocean and soil are'
breathing in me as a love,
Love is name of a feeling,
where you would try to leave'
that place or a person,
but more you try,
more you feel home'
within them,
As same I do feel with Karachi.

-Nida Mahmoed
Josh Mar 2021
we walk beneath the weight of the outside
birds sing in tune with the collective
& trees reveal their 50-year-old whispers

homes along the way glide above the sunshade
in-between blanketed shadows and sidewalks covered in gum

neighbors swim in the darkness behind blackout curtains
their beds balance on cups of bedside water
& a yellow candle glows above the city
Next page