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Tizzop Nov 2019
manager demanded: write
for all of 'em

conscience claimed: write

yesterday time
stopped passing by
yesterday i
floated above the
hudson river

grand mansions
polished shores
self-storages

swamps
vultures
scavengers

the pillage started when
scavengers pillaged
prey

don't get me wrong you
get me?
Brooke P Aug 2017
I often think about the summer before I went away,
probably more than I should.
I was working that job I hated
and you were living in the house
that felt more like a home to me than mine ever did.

I think about all of the nights that my life felt like a classic teen movie,
with my eyes acting as the camera
and your lucid words writing the script in real-time.
Us and a few close friends sneaking onto a rooftop
in the town where we grew up and grew to love.
Laughing until our stomachs hurt
and yelling things at the unsuspecting people below.
Forgetting what time it was.
Forgetting that there was a whole world below us,
which we chose to escape for the night.
My heart was light, and it felt like floating.

Now friends are in different states,
becoming people I’ll never know.
The garbage can we used as a ladder
is no longer where we could always find it,
and the gate behind the bank,
which was almost always conveniently left open,
has been locked for years.

I remember how carefree I felt on those nights.
But I tend to idolize nostalgia,
whether the past was truly picture-perfect or not.
All I know is, I was lucky enough to have had those nights,
and the unwavering memories that they created.
AMBR May 2016
We fell in time
with the heartbeat of this city
Our eyes blinded
by the bright lights of Times Square

Both of us craving
the sweet summer sun
and the soft suburban stars
of home

But both of us afraid
that we may have found a new home
on the banks of the Hudson river
beneath the red Manhattan moon

Too sweet to slow down
Too quick to ask questions
Too late to build walls
Too soon to take them down
Kurt Carman Jan 2016
Snow-day 1959

Monday, 6:00AM clock radio trips,
And WTRY Sounds off one of those top 40 hits.
I half hear the School Closings for Monday 12/12,
Sitting straight up in bed.....Was that Greenport Elementary do tell?

"Here are those school closings one more time kiddies"........
"Hudson HS Closed".... Oh Please God let me hear my city.
"Greenport Elementary...Closed" my Hands Raised Victorious..
I think I can hear Mrs Healy's entire 3rd grade class celebrating gloriously!

Just as I settle in for an uninterrupted, relaxing snow day in my room,
I hear my Mom yell, "young man come get this dust mop and broom"
"Oh snap"! "what shall I do with these dearest mother" I inquire
"Clean that pig sty you call a bedroom or your gonna feel some hellfire!"

Seeing that there we were only 10 days before Christmas
I decide Its to my advantage not to put up a fuss.
So clean I do.....pulling dust bunnies and underwear from beneath my bed
A miss matched sock and a couple bugs that were dead.

And to my surprise I find that fake dog **** I been looking for,
Time for a stealth mission to Mom's special bedroom behind that closed door.
Doing my best army crawl I make my way to Ma's special place
And put that rubbery dog **** on that bedspread made of lace.

"Hey Ma come quick the dog crapped on your lacy bedspread"!
I don't think Ma hit one step climbing those stairs she was seein' red!
And with a gasp she began to rub that dogs nose in the mess,
I'm like Mom it's just fake dog **** relax and don't stress"!
We both had a good laugh that day at our little corner house on Janis Street and Ten Broeck Avenue in Greenport USA. I miss you so much mom.

Looking for you in distant galaxy.
Lindsey Sherman Sep 2014
Hudson to my right
nyc to my left
leaves up above
grass under my sneakers
perfect amount of chill the air
not a chilly chill
just a chill sorta chill
tea in right hand
apple in left hand
no! bagel in left hand
forget the apple
take a bite
take a sip
look at the view
&repeat
I tried to refrain from writing a Fall themed poem, but I couldn't...because Fall in nyc really is as beautiful as they say.

— The End —