Jump to content
Attention, CICADA community!
  • It’s time to say goodbye—the community at cicadamag.com is closing. Learn more...

Recommended Posts

Posted (edited)

it's

under bridge and round bend and there

there she is my

city

oak-tree tall and bursting with life there's

welcome in rainbow letters on the side of that building

welcome 

 

it's an urban web where

here's the suburbs and there

the city

there's so many towns it's like there's no difference

it's one hive with many queens 

 

that school building 

tall and red-brick and 

old

with the lockers inside that don't open

and the 

kilns in the basement

place of learning begats place of learning

but now there's paint on her hands and

chalk dust

on her face

and

look out the window, there's the main street with

colorful banners and art installations

it's

we have too much money so now this is cobblestone

it's

take this old building and paint it something new

 

back to the oaks and the

flashing tree building-side

there's walter, wrapped in flags 

in bronze and bright and watching the crowds

go to the fall and here i am on the ground

level with the asphalt and covered in pigment

there's a face on the street before me and the faces around me watch as

down the block an acrobat backflips under flame-bright showmanship

and the dancers twist as the people applaud

 

bronze faces on the steps watch the

children run laughing

mom did you see the butterflies

i saw the butterflies and i 

was one of them once when

here i am, behind the bronze faces on 

slip-and-slide wood beneath the stagelights

grace wins the election and i sing my delight

and watch the little girls scream out their praises in the seats below

look at her. look at what we could be.

 

all are welcome say the rainbow letters 

and the air is full of song from the open-air amphitheater 

i sat there once and cheered and cheered

and many times more by the lake with the 

ducks

and the 

turtles

and above, bright-lightning fireworks as the symphony

swells

 

welcome to the hot summer with sticky skin and damp hair

welcome to the

forest paths and

the city corridors

to the old buildings made new

to the library built up high and the butterfly houses and the

red-bar playground

i once hung from the green bars and climbed that tree until i was tall

the children still laugh on that playground every

friday mornings with that orange flag

that's where we're going this week 

be wild, be free

be

welcome

 

welcome to the pyramid hive 

to the ant's nest amid the hills

go east to the ocean or west to the mountains 

or stay here

here with those rainbow letters and the flashing building tree

come see the butterflies, see grace win, 

be someone new

create your own world within the concrete walls

march down the street with the signs held high and stand

beneath that acorn

demand your existence

 

welcome, i ask the city and

welcome, it answers back.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

don't mind me, just following the trend and writing a city poem.

 

 

 

Edited by thepensword
  • Like 2
  • Love! 1

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

×