OK, so I promised. Only Byron said he may laugh. So a few things by way of disclaimer: First, I am neither a poet, nor the son of a poet. I basically wrote this in my head coming out of the Subway at 34th St and 3 walking blocks north on 6th Ave. You can see the amount of time I put into it by clicking HERE. You get what you walk for. Then I came home, and Dr Laurel, who's profession is words, suggested I make it prose, rather than poetry. What came about is this:New York City: A Portrait.So, two things:
She is smart, and will not be patronized; she is thoughtful, and will endure no easy answers. She is lonely, and wants 'connections', but she is busy, and will not make them. She is open-minded, needing to be part of 'the larger narrative'; but she is consumed, needing 'immediate relevance'.
She is blind, in need of sight; and she is sinful, in need of a Savior.
- Have I missed anything about New York City?
- If you were to describe your own city as a woman, what would you say about her?
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Here's a haiku for Sydney (at least I think it is!):
ReplyDeleteEmerald Oz city;
Spiritual, idolatrous;
That glittering tart.
Oh and nice poem/prose Justin! Not a snicker passed my lips.
ReplyDeleteWell, the Whitlams wrote about Sydney:
ReplyDelete'my city is a whore, opening herself to the world'
Edinburgh: the slightly-past-middle-aged lady who has given up smoking and managed to maintain something of her former beauty, but whose true personality is obscured through trying to be universally-liked.
ReplyDeletenice work, Mark and Byron. I may post these (and more) as separate posts if you are OK with that.
ReplyDeletei felt sad reading your prose.
ReplyDeletenext up...spiritual lights, big city by JM?
Seapea -- I guess she is a city that never sleeps!
ReplyDelete(I'm sorry you felt sad. I was trying to capture some of the tensions that are felt in this city. But I do believe that not all is well ... not here, and not anywhere. Which is why we need Jesus.)
Sydney. Stunningly beautiful not quite so young woman suddenly realizing years of full sun by day and hard partying at night are leaving wrinkles makeup can no longer conceal.
ReplyDeleteEr ... no problems Justin. Post away mate ;)
ReplyDelete(comment delay = church weekend away)
Sorry about that Mark. Assumed you assented! Mind you, if one posts a comment in the public domain, its therefore public fodder!
ReplyDelete:)
Absolutely Justin. The apology's all mine for the tardy reply!
ReplyDeletecoool, an online poetry slam!
ReplyDeleteThis might be a bit obscure :-)
Rainy Morning, A woman in the City
I can’t hear myself.
Clouds crowd the top of the buildings.
Red hair a flare down the grey street.
Beats, too many beaten, asyncopation.
"Your Journey Begins Here", Go!
around, around the block,
It ends.
Clouds shroud the New Jerusalem
This is actually a slightly adjusted fragment of a poem I wrote a while ago. I have, in edition, chosen to use a man instead of a woman.
ReplyDeleteNYC
He stood transfixed, silenced by what
sprawled above his head, pushy and
unruly as a junior high classroom.
It shoved him numbly from here to there,
Central Park: Harlem: Times Square. The wet
wind blew snow and umbrellas in his eyes as
he shivered.
But the old ladies always gave a dollar to the
crumpled man with leukemia when
he sang the song that requires no teeth between
subway stops and there was
always a seat available for the fragile, well-wrinkled gentleman with his
pert cap and clear, dripping nose.
Traveling is hard on the bones.
Hi I'm new to your blog - i found it through sydang network. My name is Dave E. from Perth. Western Aus.
ReplyDeletePerth
She is swims in from the shore
long legged and golden brown
she is aloof from the world and looks at lot at her own reflection.
men of iron and and men of gold have tried to claim her. Her eyes reflect the great blue expanse of sky and sea. beauty.
she owns a lot of pretty things
intoxicated by wealth and self.
cruelty.