April Poetry Challenge 2021: Day Sixteen

 

Day 16 Prompt: City

Form: Cascade

 

 "Winter in the City"

The street lights are pearls.

Bright against a winter night,

dressing up the city’s skyline

I’m walking fast, head down.

Hurrying through life, until I notice

the street lights are pearls.

Soft orbs of tinted yellow.

Streets busy below the lamps shining

bright against a winter night.

The cold wind sets me in motion.

Walking head down below the street lights

dressing up the city’s skyline.

January 6, 2021

 

January 6, 2021

I stand upon a hill

    overlooking my city

    searching for a peaceful place to write

Even though the sun

    has not set

    the horizon is dark and moving

        like smoke

The darkness billows out

    covers the land and sky

    moving towards me

 

Street lights flicker on 

    for a second 

    then are extinguished 

        little firecrackers popping

 

I follow the firework display 

    while darkness covers

    the street and buildings

I frown as people scramble

    out of buildings

    only to be snuffed out

        like the street lights

As my city disappears

    I feel my hair move

    as a breeze grows strength

In seconds the wind howls

    I swear I can hear

    the violent sound

        of teeth gnashing

The wind tears tears from my eyes

    my ears ringing

    as I bow my head

I set my feet and shoulders

    against the approaching darkness

    now at the base of the hill

        I am afraid

My chest hurts as my heart

    tries to break free

    to find a safer place

 The darkness rushes

    over me, I kneel

    It sounds like a pack of wolves

        but I feel no teeth

The world around me becomes silent

    I wait a moment

    to open my eyes

Reluctantly, I lift my lids

    I see nothing

    until my eyes adjust

        to the darkness

I can see the faintest outlines

    of the world around me

    shoes, notebook and pen

 

My first thought is 

    what will tomorrow 

    be like now 

        I hopelessly sigh

 

On instinct, I find my 

    notebook, pen and thoughts

    I start to write

While the ink saturates the paper

    my pen becomes a light

    I look up to see

        other small flames

The darkness is being punctured

    in the city below

    stark light against the stillness

 

For a moment  

    I think I see

    the constellation

        Ursa Minor

I stand, watching the single flames

    start to migrate

    to the center of town

The lights move as one

    becomes two

    becomes three

        becomes together

The darkness dissolves

    in ragged patches 

    from the light of talent

With my pen and paper in hand

    I start down the hill

    to join the others

        removing this blanket of darkness

 

Poetic Form 30: Lune

City streets are fine ways

to find a

person to call friend.

Poetic Form #30: Lune

The lune form is also known as the American Haiku. A lune poem has 5 syllables

in the first line, 3 syllables in the second line and 5 syllables in the final line. 

A variation of this form uses the structure of 3 words in the first line, 5 words

in the second line and 3 words in the final line.

To the lady wearing two different shoes

6 in the morning

Portland Oregon

I'm sipping Pike Place coffee

 (with cream)

The city is waking up

The brick sidewalk is busy in front of the glass

Cars, busses, and parked taxis fill the narrow downtown streets

The pedestrians do that sideways glance

   wanting to see who is behind the glass

   but fearing real eye contact

There are all kinds of people walking past

    pants hanging low

    wobbly heels fighting with the bricks

    a grandpa, ear plugs, jogs by

Then a woman with an air of grace walks by

Black shawl wrapped around her, matching hat still shows some grey

She has a walker, but it might as well be an umbrella for the way she handles it

Then I notice her feet

Two completely different shoes

    left foot is an old beige nurse’s shoe (S.A.S still makes these)

    right foot is a denim flat with a silver buckle

I don't know her story

Is she among the homeless I’ve seen in the city

  camped out in doorways and underpasses

Maybe it is crazy shoe day at her granddaughter’s second grade class

   and she gets to come for lunch

Hell, just maybe, she likes to wear them that way

What I do know is that I saw you
   with your two different shoes

You inspired me to write this poem

(Which I know you may never read)

It is now 6:30 a.m.

In Portland, Oregon

And I am hoping I meet the woman with two different shoes in heaven

The City Stretches

The city stretches

 Under a grey morning

Streetlights shimmer in the cool mist

Hinting toward a violent winter

Hushed voices mingle between

Sips of coffee and final morning yawns

Intensity rumbles like traffic

As a day's work begins

The city stretches

 Under a grey morning

I Wish to Stand

I wish to stand

 Not in a woods with two paths

 Not on the on-ramp of a busy highway

   Nor on the edge of the sea

I wish to stand on the horizon

The vast line of everywhere

Both sky and land

  Meeting forever

The colors mix so well there

  Blues to purple to blood red orange

  White to grey to fields of gold

 

The horizon has no time

 No shape

 No boundary to escape

    it flows with the cornfield

    breaks with the glacier

 Outlines a city and mountain alike

I wish to stand on the horizon

I wish to stand on the edge of everything

To be everywhere

   Every second

   As I stand