The City

The cityscape rushes into view,

As jostling tracks guide the train,

Past the rust-caked barricade,

Overlooking buildings outwardly 

Unchanged since early industy.

 

Arrived at the station, the train, sqeaking,

Grinds to a halt, all wait by the doors,

They wait for the light or the signalling chime,

Heavy bags and heavier faces go on through,

As all else is drowned out in the noise

 

In exiting, a wall of cigarette smoke,

Serves as the last station checkpoint,

All wish to rush through, as such is done,

The descent is swift into the city,

Taxi ranks and bus stops tempting all back home

 

The city itself is a wonderful place,

You can go anywhere to eat, drink or laugh,

There are shops within shops and attractions abound, 

Entertainers and merchants and beggars all come, 

Friends and colleagues help guide your way

 

Yes, this is a place for all to enjoy, 

As the Summer warmth falls on everyone

Within the balmy air,

Enjoyment is the due of day,

And excitement's all that's known of the night 

 

 

 

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Comments

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Fri 14th Jun 2013 12:35

So good to see you back. I didn't get to this poem until this morning after I posted my latest blog. Can't believe it is sort of similar in theme.

Anyway, this is a great idea, always worth exploring from a personal angle. IMO, the poem is still a bit too raw, too 'wordy'. I know your work, and I really like it. I think this piece just needs some sensitive discipline: eg. 'rushes' is surely 'fast'; so ' the cityscape rushes into view' sounds better and expresses clearly, I think, just what you intended. That's what I mean, in general. Have another look and see if my comment bears any weight. My suggestions are never a critique.

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