"manhattans" poems
*she just shakes her head
she meets me on the street-corner, me from work, she from dance,
in the grayling dusk of a thank god it’s a freedom Friday night,
I greet her with words semi-adventurous -
“come with me, few errands to run, keep me in good company”
to the candy store we go for to purchase my weekend eve
lottery tickets and blow-pop lollipops, just in case some
kids appear, a surprise omen as they come
trick-or-treating just before Thanksgiving
the Bangladeshi candyman calls out a long prayer
in his native Bangla
she asks “what’s that he’s saying?”
“Oh, just wishing us a pleasant Sabbath and
may his gods smile upon our good lottery fortune”
she just shakes her head, from side to side
emerging from the store, walking home in the
now doubly ***** darkly dusk,
a set of white teeth from a passing shadow-man says to me
“you’re home late and have a great weekend,”
she asks, “who is that?”
“why,” I reply, “that is our very own personal postal carrier’
she says:
“he delivers mail to ten thousand people all in buildings tall,
yet knows your name, your face,
where you buy your lottery tickets,
your coming and going hours,
how came that to be”
but waits not for an answer
she just shakes her head, from side to side
I show her my secret entrance to our apartment house,
the fast route to collect our mail, dry cleaning in one fell swoop
a secret door, secret elevator taking us directly to our apartment
a secret elevator which is under the direction of
Bimal from Nepal,
who I greet in Nepalese, (my tutor)
I, asking after Brian and Bryce, his 100% American boys
now she says nothing, but before our door, as I go key digging,
she just shakes her head, from side to side
later she says:
“let’s order in, apprise me of your expertise,
some exotic fare from Manhattans First Avenue,
known for its aphrodisiacal powers
afterwards,
you must tell me each dishes name,
in its tongue’s nativity,
but much, much later,”
and as she speaks, grinning,
she sticks out her tongue,
while she just shakes her head,
but this time,
up
and
down
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 10:07 AM UTC
the setting sun glows crimson over distant hills
people enjoy the balmy temperatures
sip their mojitos and manhattans
anticipating finger food and tapas
chatting with friends and neighbors
not everybody notices
the folding blossoms of the garden flowers
or the sweet evening songs of birds
the daring hedgehog venturing forth
to look for food
the smell of honeysuckle gaining force
under the rising moon
the beauty of our nature
often gets talked away in conversations
reduced to just a pleasant ambiance
that loosens our tongues
in our obsession to communicate
we tend to overlook the soft magnificence
the world presents to us in dusky evening hours
Jul 21, 2016
Jul 21, 2016 at 5:01 PM UTC
It all started with an urge to go to the movie theater
PTA's "The Master"
It was a 35 minute walk to the nearest cinema in Brooklyn
Nighthawks is what it was called
1:10pm, 4:10pm, 6:10pm, 10:10pm, the show times
Since I woke up at 12:45am, 1:10pm was out of the question
4:10pm seemed plausible but when the clock rolled around I was still puttering around the house
I could putter no more by 6:00pm and flew the cooped up den
The air, brisk and crisp
Time fell back
Women's heels clap the sidewalk in applause
All for the autumn on a Sunday frozen in time
I arrive, show sold out
I walk across the Williamsburg bridge, why not?
First theater in Manhattan I see turned out to be live art
So I turned out and left
Manhattans alive while Brooklyn slumbers
I dart down Clinton St toward the old Avenues
November, I could go without the cold weather, but I love the seasons
Pumpkin lattes **** my wallet dry like lesions
Soon I'm walking down 2nd Av, feeling familiar with my surroundings
Funny, feeling familiar, in a city I thought I'd never know, (you'll never know if you don't go)
Got some dollar pizza on St Marks
Followed by a dollar falafel, which tasted awful, (now I know why it was a dollar)
I walked in circles around Union Square, in union with everyone there
Happy that my feet were to the street, where they belong
Freezing, frozen, frigid, shakin' in my britches
Wrapped around my neck a borrowed scarf
Bumping into people, "I'd like to get by now", like Garth
(keep moving, you'll find what you want to find)
In big bright neon light at Village Cinema
"The Master"
(In 70mm)
Huh, 70mm, "Cool", I thought
The theater, empty as a loners funeral
I was the only one there, red velvet lined seats
I missed Halloween
Maybe this is my treat
The world is beautiful
This city is mine,
All I had to do
Was leave my old one behind
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 2:40 PM UTC
Sleeping.
No. Not sleeping.
Hands in the dark.
Arm/Arm.
Next to each other, on top of each other.
Legs. Legs.
Foot. Tracing your leg.
A hand in the dark.
Fingers take my fingers.
Touches my face.
Kissing.
Suddenly.
You’re there.
So am I.
Should we be doing--?
--Kiss.
Never mind.
You’re supposed to be on a plane right now.
You’re not.
You’re on this bed.
Where I am too.
You kiss me again. Hard.
Hello, tongue.
Wait. What?
Doesn’t matter?
Okay.
Keep kissing.
Yes.
I know what this is.
I’m everything she’s not.
You call me beautiful.
No, I’m not.
My, you’re insistent.
I really don’t think I am.
You stare at me:
I’m the only woman in the world.
No one’s ever done that before.
Hands are going places.
I don’t want ***
Well, I do.
I want *** with love. You love someone else. And I love you.
I am not an Equal Opportunity Provider.
Is that okay?
God, you’re so sweet.
You kiss me again.
I kiss you back.
Stroke my hair.
Scratchy beard,
Rubs my chin.
God you feel good.
Ugh.
My willpower is diminishing.
Stop.
Let’s talk.
Not about…her.
I mean.
About whatever, really.
Your back porch in Atlanta.
Play them blues.
Drink your Manhattans.
You and your gin.
Sounds beautiful.
You want me to know I’m beautiful.
No I’m not.
Why do I think that?
I’m just not.
It seems we’re at an impasse.
I don’t know I’m beautiful.
You don’t know you’re quite a catch.
You’re fanfacking tastic.
How do you not know it?
[It’s a cruel game;
that the universe made you love someone
who just can’t see that.
That the Gods would laugh
at our human folly
seems unfair.
That they gave us love
and then gave us no directions on how to use it.
That this man
is tripping over his own two feet
trekking mountains
traversing deserts
stealing the stars right out of the sky
Trying to re-win the love of his life.
She doesn’t even bat an eye.
She doesn’t know
that he is the rarest form of species.
And she
is a ******* poacher.]
Now I’m falling in love with your soul.
The very depths of you.
The secret rooms.
The inner dialogue.
You just get me like no one else does.
Sleeping.
No.
Getting there.
Pull me in tight.
Body on body.
Safest place in the world
is right here.
My head on your chest.
Arm/Arm.
Hand/Hand.
Tonight you’re mine.
Tomorrow
you were just a dream.
Jun 13, 2012
Jun 13, 2012 at 2:46 PM UTC
Cocktails
My folks would have cocktail parties
I remember as a child,
on Saturday nights in the city.
Cigarettes glowed, Martini’s flowed.
From the back bedroom, my sister and I
would listen to grown up chatter
as if some pearl of wisdom heard
would somehow really matter.
Kept awake by the noise,
we’d play a game of chicken
shoving each other round the corner
only to be stricken
with terror and embarrassment
as we stood in the middle of that space,
in our nightgowns and slippers
as if on stage, exposed, red faced,
and mortified, as the guests looked up
momentarily distracted from conversation.
With ****** expressions asking the question
“what could be their motivation”?
Then back to the festivities at hand,
paying no attention to the childish prank,
they continued smoking their cigarettes,
Manhattans, Martini’s - they drank.
As children we wondered
on those Saturday nights,
is this what grown “upness” is like?
Will we have to drink whiskey
and smoke Lucky Strike?
To have good friends and neighbors
Come to our parties
With trays of canapés and appetizers
Is that what will make us popular?
Happy, interesting, wiser?
We plotted and planned,
How our grown up lives
Would be different than mom and dad
It seemed silly to us to make such a fuss
When tomorrow they’d still be sad.
My folks would have cocktail parties
I remember as a child
on Saturday nights in the city
But the clink of ice, didn’t stop at night
It continued on through the daytime too!
Now wasn’t that a pity?
Mar 19, 2010
Mar 19, 2010 at 8:30 PM UTC
I am vapid. I am inane.
A raving lunatic, I am insane.
All morning long I have been beating on a drum.
Da dum da dum da dum.
What I have to say need not be said.
These words I write will never butter my bread.
I have lain down those dreams of my youth.
I make Manhattans for a living, mix whiskey and vermouth.
A black cat drinks from a green shovel where rainwater has collected.
I say this as it happens as it doesn't matter and I am misdirected.
I am vapid. I am inane.
All I do, I do in vain.
All morning long I have been beating on a drum.
I'm numb. I'm numb. I'm numb.
What I have to say need not be said.
All that I have written will never be seriously read.
I have lain down those dreams of my youth.
I am unshaven and unrefined. I am craven and uncouth.
A black cat drinks from a green shovel where rainwater has collected.
Fear is a wound that opens loudly and over time grows infected.
I am vapid. I am inane.
I am a fake. A phony. I feign.
All morning long I have been beating on a drum.
I'm dumb. I'm dumb. I'm dumb.
What I have to say need not be said.
Truth be told I wish I were dead.
I have lain down those dreams of my youth.
I make martinis for a living, also with vermouth.
A black cat drinks from a green shovel where rainwater has collected.
I say this as it happens as it doesn't matter but I find myself nevertheless affected.
I am vapid. I am inane.
I am 27. My name is Dane.
All morning long I have been beating on a drum.
I'm done. I'm done. I'm done.
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 9:01 AM UTC
Apparently it’s official
the search for Mr Right
has been abandoned.
After due consideration -
one ***** Cranberry Tonic
two Manhattans -
There’s nothing left to do
but smoke your last cigarette
outside
line up the Tequila shots
with lemon wedges
and salt
and after two hours
of rigorous hip-like-a-ho
Beyonce-butt-dancing
to loud Techno repe-ti-tive beat
avoiding all football players
and other women dis-respectors
accept a ride home
with a halfway decent
Mr Right Now.
© M.L.Emmett
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 11:43 AM UTC
Reactions become routines,
and I didn't even know,
until your existence challenged mine.
Scary in oh a such beautiful way,
how all of my 5 senses react, as I hide my face between your sheets,
and they smell like strong morning coffee.
Terrifying how you make me feel
as dizzy as I get after seven perfect Manhattans,
when your hands get lost in the curves of my body.
My mouth jailed in ecstasy on your skin,
My lips wanting to write a story on your cage of bones,
Almost using the words I am afraid of even thinking .
Almost.
Sep 25, 2017
Sep 25, 2017 at 6:42 PM UTC
my mind has an abundant amount of words piled ontop of my brain waiting to be reconigzed
my mouth opens to speak these words to you but nothing never seems to come or flow out right
but truth is you make feel like manhattans lights
because you make my insides burn
and that might sound horrible but it feels good and you make me feel like my favorite candy because you make me feel so sweet but once the candy goes down i feel like nothing and nothing is how you make me feel. you have a toungue made out of blades and it cuts me very deep. sometimes you leave me there feeling so alone and cold like winters most harsh storms and you can be so bitter sweet because you make me hate myself but i love you. and sometimes i feel like we're up high but down low. you make me feel like a better person. you made me believe in myself even through my darkest nights and now i can fall asleep okay.
you make me lose my mind but you also help me find it and this is very ironic. just like my hatred for you turned into love.
i feel safe with you and i feel real.
like everyones words cant break me because sometimes you build me up even though other days you knock me down. i love you and i love the fact that we arent easy.
A.M.
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 5:39 PM UTC
My dreams are bright
feather light
at night
conditions right
Carefree
Mind free
Life's challenges
to be won
Feeling warmth
from noonday sun
I dream of water
floating
boating
with Dad
Sparkle Lake
water ripples
Lost Dad
Double nickels
Still sad
Memory trickles
I dream of sky
Fly
High
Cropduster
Single prop
Big John
Name drop
Macho swagger
Li’l Baby
Taildragger
I dream in hues
greens, blues
Love so true
dancing with you
Faces aglow
manhattans flow
******
Need a drummer
Low-rent venues
party continues
I dream less bright
feather light
at night
conditions right
Carefree
Mind free
As when I
was young
Colder now
in the setting sun
Mark Toney © 2021
Oct 9, 2021
Oct 9, 2021 at 10:48 PM UTC
Our Last Supper, in truth, was a luncheon, but no matter-
It’s the breaking of bread, the holy communion,
The wine, the Manhattans, the beer that counts.
Together one last time, raising our glasses to “whatever”
Vowing to preserve our little circle, no matter what
Like the heartbroken little apostles that we are.
Before our meal’s done, we plan the next Sacred Gathering
A cookout in August, a *** luck” in February, and so on,
Because one “Last Supper” is never enough
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 9:49 PM UTC
Darling let us dance with the moon above us and sea below ,
for this night is meant for us “ .
man
I’ll take you’re hand ,
a Walt’s we shall dance as if the stars look down ,
and their twinkle mirror mists enchant ,
their heavens array on this moonless night ,
we shall hold each other until Manhattans lights draw near .
Woman ... it’s so cold can you feel it my love
Man ... ‘ there are icicles on deck here you are my love “
Oh stop oh stop throwing them “
Man , you’re such a tease ,
You’re smile ,
You’re face with tender lips to embrace ,
to kiss you ,
and hold the back of you’re tender ,
soft neck .
woman “ I shall hold you this night until the Statue of Liberty we shall see before our eyes on that distant shore ,
and there we shall dine in Manhattans cafes
With only love ,
and kind words to fill our hearts for evermore.
“ woman ‘“. We have danced all night ,
The lifeboats have but all
gone ,
to the tune of Autumn our souls live ever on ,
nearer my God to thee.
with only God before us ,
as heaven awaits “.
For now my evening dress is wet as ,
there are iceicles around my ******* ,
there lies water all around ,
and I’m frozen .
To you I cling my ,
To you as heaven comes down we dance ,
hand in hand ,
as for this eternal spring .
the moon it’s flares,
and whistle are all in the past .
We plunge ,
ghosts ,
hand in hand ,
down to the oceans dark tombs we surrender.
to angels who guide our way ,
to the strange mists,
and endless horizons that have enchanted this night
Down ,
down.
Four shoes ,
and you’re top hat ,
lie in silt ,
forever ,
with dolls ,
and prams ,
and plates ,
and watch faces ,
where time stands still
on the ocean bed ,
lies our evermore .
.i
Apr 15, 2019
Apr 15, 2019 at 11:35 AM UTC