Poems about cities


№ 1201197


Looking at her in the rear-view
Mirror; the hero never looks back
At the explosion; the destruction
Of Sodom because, honestly, everyone
Wants to screw and screw and screw.

Her edifice crumbled to the ground
Like so many great empires. She thought
Her romance was Rome; I put roam in romance
And like Nero, I played music while her cities


Author: Timothy Brown
Date: 30/03/2020

№ 1192227

States and Cities

As you trace your fingers over the rips in my jeans, I
Think about the things that made me love you at first and I
Wasn't too sure about who I
Was and it gets so hard sometimes to figure myself out and I
Am so sorry if I
Hurt you, but bruises don't heal quickly on me and I
Saw his scars today and I
Couldn't breathe for a minute because he was so close and I
Hope he's okay and I
Hope you still love me and I
Hope I
Can finally myself out

cities,  states.

Author: Charlie
Date: 21/03/2020

№ 1188709

Big cities

I dream of big cities
Distant cities.
Beautiful cities
Filled with loving and kind people.

I dream of a better world
Where there is no mean bitter woman
Yelling at you and making you fell less
Feel like an outsider
In the one place
You are supposed to feel safest.

I dream of large bridges
A million lights lighting up dark nights
Tall beautiful buildings.
Beautiful people.
Different shades of skin color
Distant and merry laughter.

Beautiful music
Not far yet not near
Filling ears, filling souls,
Making one feel whole
Bringing memories of yesterday
Not sad, just smile worthy.

I dream of large windows
With large, long cream curtains
Soft and comforting
Cream high walls and soft grey woolen carpets
Warm and homey

I dream of happiness
I dream of better big cities.

big,  cities.

Author: Brenda Mukisa
Date: 18/03/2020

№ 1153436

Of Secret cities, mushroom farmers, threads between them and the perfect blowjob.

A rainy dreary Halloween from 2006.
Candlelit late night
Bedroom phone calls.
Your dream about a train ride and mushroom farmers.
My dream about hidden cities.

"I want to feed you Viagra and a muscle relaxer and fuck the shit out of you"

How long has it been Now?
Too long maybe, some lines are stretched too thin, through waiting and longing, love and lust and the once closest of friendships,
Stretched like Taffy till nearly gossamer strands wound meandering miles of complex life events and other unshared memories.
A too familiar voice.
Echoes of "I want you to have the perfect blow job"
Spaces in conversations that would have been empty if not for the most contagious laugh I've ever heard.
One not matched before or since.

Can you live in the past and long for the future? Is it greedy to desire more of something that was already so sweet? I don't tell anyone about my dreams now. Candles sit on. the shelf primarily unlit.

There are no more secret cities.
No mushroom farmers or train rides
But there are still threads
Stretched like Taffy but woven like a tapestry.
Across time and distance.
Made of memories.
All you'd have to do Is tug on a thread.

cities,  farmers,  mushroom,  perfect,  secret,  threads.

Author: David Crum
Date: 15/02/2020

№ 1146016


There are
In me.

A small town girl full of

The only time I am ever
Is when the oceans of
Surround me
Concrete walls and window tiles
Every face dissolves
Into every other, just
Blur the skylines
A little more.

I always feel the restless
Energy, but only when
The ceaseless floods of
Mankind wash me over.

There are
In me.

Every block, every brick
Every beam and every balcony
Every inch of this
World in me.

There are
In me.

But I saw once face
In all the seas of shifting life
And suddenly the smoke-rimmed sky
Parted ways for you.

On the escalator mountaintop
Friday evening at seven
One face, one name
Made its way through
The tiled maze, and then
I woke up from my
Metropolis dreams.

In one split
Second, the thousands of
Souls, all shoved
Together, swayed
To reveal
Just two souls, spotlighted
And me.

There are cities
In me
But never
Can anyone
But you
Light up the roving night.


Author: b e mccomb
Date: 09/02/2020

№ 1107136


There's a vacancy in me, a moon crater, a cesspool, a grasshopper on its hind legs pleading to gods that don't exist yet. i've always spelled love with bullet holes in between, his hands rummaging through my snow-caked lungs for heartstrings that vanish at the touch, my own emptiness an animal that gnaws me, a biteful here and a prickling crack in my being there. something wrong, something gnarly. a prayer with bent teeth and beer breath. a glimpse of a memory that might've been a dream or another world you existed in when your hands were smaller and the universe was an infinite beast, rattled by stars and ancient fires, matchlit mountains and roiling seas. have you ever felt like a graveyard in the blooming? all these tombstones littered across your body, each grave marked by your name, owls hooting behind the ribcage gates. in me there is a vacancy like this: the earth stemming from purified veins, droplets of blood capering up my skin like caterpillars, something half-eaten, half-felt, something that was perhaps, never whole. waterlogged limbs that only carry you as far as your next disaster. cheeks mottled with rain that does not burn. someone asking “hi, how are you? ” and your answer is fine, always fine, do you know what it's like to never feel anything other than fine? to hold hands with the dead and sing their souls to blissful sleep. maybe i would be a clichè, something out of a movie you've seen a hundred times before, a ghost with nothing to haunt, a girl who gets bitten by a monster only to become a monster, suicide in the city.


Author: Molly Gilkey
Date: 04/01/2020

№ 1104728

Daughter of Two Cities

Bold strokes of charcoal gradually fade
Blotting with rose-petal hues
Step after crisp autumn-kissed step
Scents ride the winds like surfers catching waves
Splashing aromas of maple syrup
And ground coffee bean drinks of life.
With promises of heaven on my taste buds,
I nod in greeting to Victorian architects' handiwork
And wink to live rainbows
Acknowledging their secrets with upturned lips.
Across the Atlantic, in a parallel world,
I step onto the streets of ex-Pharaohs,
The familiar hubbub of bee-like pedestrians
And drivers side-stepping one another
In a dance to honks of buses and tok-toks
Falafel and shawerma mingle with
Cane-pressed juice casually on the corner.
With promises of heaven on my taste buds,
I embrace the City of Past Kings.
Cobra and maple leaf intertwine
In a pattern on my forehead
Branding me, on my heart,
A daughter of two cities.

cities,  daughter.

Author: Iman Abdulmoneim
Date: 02/01/2020

№ 1093560


Cities are dirty, grimy places
Full of people with interesting faces.

There's dark hair, blonde hair, red hair, white hair and grey; imagine all the colours of a rainbow and then add a few.

There's fair skin, dark skin, olive skin and mellow tones too.

There's small eyes, wide eyes, blue eyes, green eyes, grey eyes and brown; some have 20: 20 vision, some hide behind glasses, some wear contact lenses to enhance their sight, some have a world of darkness behind their eyes.

There's large noses, small noses, wide noses, button noses, some hold glasses upon their face, some are cumbersome, some full of grace.

There's clear skin, wrinkled skin, acne skin, damaged skin, translucent skin, soft skin, dry skin, sunkissed skin, sunburnt skin.

There's big ears, small ears, pierced ears, cauliflower ears, ears with rings in to make them wide; some people wear hearing aids to enhance what they hear, some live in total silence.

Some people are tall, some are short, some are able to walk, some need assistance every day to be able to walk even a small way.

There are cyclists and runners on every street, roller skaters, walkers your most likely to meet; add in football, cricket and rugby players too, basketball, rounders, netball, tennis and golf, squash, badminton, swimming and diving, there's such diversity in all that we do.

Libraries and Museums open their doors, sshh be quiet, though it's free to explore.

Shops, coffee shops, hairdressers a plenty, though some of the bigger spaces remain empty; cost of rent is exceedingly high and don't even think about the option to buy.

There's leisure parks to walk and have fun with your dogs, parks with swings and roundabouts for your children who are young.

Some Cities have rivers, some have canals built to let barges through.

Some Cities have harbours, marinas too, look over the Ocean at a sea that's blue.

All Cities have Universities to provide education to those from home or from far and wide.

Spoilt for choice of courses to attend there's professions of course, doctors, dentists, lawyers and nurses, accountants and vets. There's media, dance, English language and literature, geography, history and maths. There's IT, cookery and drama and how to handle a camera. There's business and entertainment, wedding planning and Latin. Any subject of your choice can be found somewhere around.

You can find comedy clubs, poetry readings, chess clubs, scout clubs, lego groups, cookery classes, sewing classes, reading groups, right outside your door, if you took the chance to look around your neighbourhood and the time to explore.

Don't write off the City though it may look dirty and grimy in places, it is as you can see, full of interesting people and places.


Author: Jackie Mead
Date: 23/12/2019