Saturday, April 24, 2010

The City At Night

                                 
        This is a poem that I wrote while looking at a picture of New York City that hangs in my room. I just love how the city comes alive at night so I thought I'd write a poem about it.

The City At Night

By Me
The lights of the city are never turned off.
All night they burn like stars above,
Bright as the streetlights that hang aloft.
The wind blows through the streets, so sweet and so soft.

And oft I hear unruly sounds all around but instead,
It turns to music when I close my eyes.
Funny, the sounds that people found so stilted,
Turns into a symphony inside my head.

As I close my eyes, I can feel the lights;
The buildings whisper and the pavement laughs.
The curtains won’t be lowered until daylight,
And there’s nothing quite like the city at night.

The night comes, curtains are drawn, spot lights glisten;
The talking becomes music and streetlights become spotlights.
Everyone on the street takes their positions,
And soon everyone becomes a musician.

It all feels so fluid, like a well-rehearsed dance,
We’re all walking in step as if we’ve done it before.
The streets are our stage—the world, our audience.
The music leaves me spellbound and entranced.

The screeching of tires and closing of doors is like a song,
Everything is like an instrument in an orchestra.
The footsteps like flutes and car horns like gongs;
A song that plays all night long.

The ambulance sirens are like a violin,
Adding to the music with its sad harmony.
I hear it come and soon its gone again,
So haunting, so lovely, but what a sad song it is.

And soon, the dancers begin their ballet—
Their walking and running is like an elaborate dance.
As people finished watching the shows on Broadway,
More and more people begin to flood the stage.

We’re all walking in step, yet going different ways,
Every step feels fluid, like a dance or a song.
We’re all so different yet the still same,
We’re the blood that runs through the city’s veins.

It’s my own private show, each night something new,
You can hear it to if you know how to listen.
I’m a part of the band, but in the audience too:
All day the dancers practice and the instruments are tuned.

Then it all bursts out at night like a show on Broadway,
And it plays out before me once the daylight is gone.
Every soul, a seasoned dancer, who has practiced all day,
To come out at night and dance on this stage.

But soon the curtain appears in the form of daylight,
The show is over yet there is no applause.
As the dancers exit the stage, the music dies.
I can’t wait to see the show again tonight.

6 comments:

Anaurora H said...

Love it!! You should post poems more often. I like to read you more on the creative side :)

Mariah said...

I really liked it! It's kind of like a freeverse poem, but it has some rhyme to it. Nice, nice!

Jessie said...

Hey Alyssa! I recently got a blog--mainly because I heard that you had a writing blog, and I was intrigued and wanted to see it. That poem was absolutely beautiful, and I think that you'll be a great writer someday!

Grandma said...

Fantastic! Can you hear me clapping for you because I certainly am.

Inimitable-DF-Unique said...

I dont read poetry very often, but this is the one of the best poems i have ever read. You should have a poem book published if you dont already. Keep at it, and thanks for commenting on my blog.

Jonathan said...

This poem is good, in fact it's quite great I'm glad that you got it off of your plate. Out of your head and onto a screen, a place where it can be appreciated and seen. If only there was a way to make our voices more apprehended, the media has broken literature it's misshaped and bended. If only out of crowd, we could make our voices aloud, but the most beautiful are not always loud, they are the soft whispers that come from the ground.