They scar the country with prejudice, not paradise,
oblivious to the currents that light the evening skies
Stone monuments sometimes of steel,
cold and perverse—they climb and steal the very light of day
The dandelions, they claim the prize that line the street
and gutter ways—the cement fields of want and play
Bricks of orange and of red consort with peeling wood
that’s dead—a haven for the pests that stay
and share this metropolitan today
and in convenience vibrato do we hear
the noise that’s softly playing in our structured ears.
Monoliths that pierce the skies with their heads
they sigh and cry—peering through the hazy fog
that won’t hide them—not at all
and discipline is out of line, corrupting the senses
of the mind—making us wish that there was time
to move away from here.
-
Author:
Estanislao Rodriguez-Cuevas (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 8th, 2018 14:42
- Comment from author about the poem: I've lived in cities all my life... I love them - but they can become a little much--sometimes.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 36
- Users favorite of this poem: Heartwriter
Offline)
Comments3
I loved this. Really brought you into the picture. Nicely done !
your response to my poem means a lot - thank you
Your most welcome!
Very good write. I do not think that I could live in a city as the natural world is too important for me.
Welcome to MPS.
thank you for your comments - they a truly appreciated.
Some of the phrasing you use about cities compels reassessment of their claim to be paradise - - your words paint a stark picture for readers to think on - - an engaging read Stan with a forceful last line - - wishing to move and making time has been on the mind of many a citizen living in monoliths and choices are made but it has always been rural for me. A perceptive piece of excellent prose.
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