Buildings of glass, concrete and steel,
scraping the sky, to touch a cloud.
From above the ants they move in drones, to the turning wheel,
on the ground, noise, hustle and bustle aloud.

Dirty trains, business men and hot cement,
yellow cabs, movie stars, limousines and champagne.
Never sleeping, always moving, no room for lament,

underground the world is dark, the tracks beckon forth,
with out restrain.

Make it or break it, if you can't make it here,
you fall, you weep, you go down to the deep.
The wheels turn, the train is getting near,
you board a car, without refrain and sanity you must keep.

Above the world, it shines of different light,
below, dingy, cold and dirty tunnels of blackened rail,
Thundering through the night of day and the night of night,
keep your focus, keep your cool, stay on track, you must prevail.

New York, New York, the apple of your eye,
success to gain, a future to be had.
Time Square, dazzling lights, people pass by,
not caring, are you despairing, doesn't matter if you're sad.

The city streets, the trash, the clutter,
restaurants, clubs, theaters, they play their parts,
Stay the pace, keep your face, calling to the gutter,
when the rain rains, will it wash away the noise, will it wash away the broken hearts?

You pick yourself up, you look around, and there you will behold,
cheer up, it's not your time, 'tis time to try again.
Towering structures intimidate, and seem to scold,
New York, is just the place, where the bold, can live in vain.

Learn more about this author, Jon Coe.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

---

Add your voice

Know something about Poetry: New York City?
We want to hear your view. Write now!