77 City Poems That Capture the Essence of Urban Life

Cities, the vibrant centers of human civilization, have long been a muse for poets and writers.

As Jane Jacobs, the renowned urbanist, once said, “Cities have the capability of providing something for everybody, only because, and only when, they are created by everybody.”

Join us in exploring city poems, as we unveil the best verses that encapsulate the essence of urban life.

We’ll delve into famous poems about cities celebrated for their insight, and humorous poems that uncover the lighter side of city living.


The city, with its intricate web of culture, architecture, and diversity, serves as the canvas for this city poetry.

Best City Poems

In the realm of city poems, some verses shine as the best, capturing the essence of urban life with vivid and emotive language. These best poems about cities reflect the heartbeat of a city, taking readers on a literary journey.

1. Acquainted with The Night

       by Robert Frost

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain – and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

2. Night Driving

       by Heather Ober

I want to take a drive tonight
through a maze of half-lit roads
paved in onyx shadows.
I want to follow starry streets
that roll in waves of cold concrete
beneath the opal moon.
I want to cruise across the city
through pockets of rose gold light
that bury me in brightness
before throwing me back into night.
I want to merge with this sea of speed,
hear that feline engine purr,
watch the world fly by in abstraction–
an incandescent blur.
I want to join the glowing ribbon
of headlight pearls on midnight highways
that twirl and spin in shimmering arcs
of taillight rubies.

3. Night in a Down-town Street

       by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts

Not in the eyed, expectant gloom,
Where soaring peaks repose
And incommunicable space
Companions with the snows;
Not in the glimmering dusk that crawls
Upon the clouded sea,
Where bourneless wave on bourneless wave
Complains continually;
Not in the palpable dark of woods
Where groping hands clutch fear,
Does Night her deeps of solitude
Reveal unveiled as here.
The street is a grim canon carved
In the eternal stone,
That knows no more the rushing stream
It anciently has known.
The emptying tide of life has drained
The iron channel dry.
Strange winds from the forgotten day
Draw down, and dream, and sigh.
The narrow heaven, the desolate moon
Made wan with endless years,
Seem less immeasurably remote
Than laughter, love, or tears.

4. In The Heart of The City

       by Anonymous

Might the years have betrayed me?
Not that I didn’t know her but her
lights knew not the catches of my eye–

mighty concrete behemoths of mid
nineteen hundred something
littered my view in quaint newness while

myriads of roaring metal beasts
not without their own masters
lunged forward in a sea of people…

Mockup shops and street food scents
nudged my wallet into sharing a
little folded bill of blue, all while

market clamour played
next to the banter
lining the streets.

Alas!

More than a humble string of words
nailed on a poem the night hence are needed to
line her canopy of neon lights a

masterful description capable of
nesting all that was there in a neat
lingering thought!

5. We Will Sing

       by Anonymous

They say that in London
you’re never more than 10 foot
from a rat
and a stone’s throw
from a poet.
The space in between is taken up
by stalking survey takers.

The crooked streets
that were once paved with gold
are now peppered
with monochrome gum,
half finished poems
and generous cigarette butts.

But out in the painted parks,
within the chorus of churches
or secured in our community halls – 
that’s where you can still hear us sing.

6. My City

       by Poesy Relish

Of the Gods own country
of this paradise
where green and blue
merge as one
in the north is a city
that encompass the beauty
where the dream lands meet
lined by kaasaraka trees

where seven tongues are spoken
and a unique lingo was woken
lined by shores and calm beaches
which meets with forts of ancient elegance
who can pass by with no notice
the mountains high and  hillocks of beauty
forests green and tranquil rivers
places of worship, unique structures
renowned for coir and handloom
and for its customs varied

The people here, with a smile of warmth
welcoming with open arms
known for their variety dishes
which does prick ones tastebuds
of the sense of fashion
who can beat their passion
and their thirst for knowledge
is to be acknowledged
fame it has know from times of yore
of the arts and culture it beholds

this is the city of budding talents
feel the vibe and do relent

7. The Madman

       by Ayesha

The madman watches from the pores of the city
Housed tightly like a life in the confines of chest
Sky howls and lures it outwards, bulbous and beating
The windowsills loosen their grips, hang pitiful
On the precipice, as a blind disquiet looms
Silence yawns, and then chaos sneezes
Opening wide the madman’s heart
Then, a big rumble wakes the streets as he prepares for riot
People-pupils jig in their pools
Exuberant at the disturbed show
Almost, it seems, that a thousand past sunsets
Might flip over the world
And walk unleashed as man upon man
As man among men in song has done

8. Faded with The Night

       by Sandra Adams

Within the cinereal swirls
of clouded skies
I hear the quickened beat
of my pulse, fall within my steps
and the echoes of mind
on these empty streets
as i walk alone, lost
beneath the shadows
of buildings that fall
from lambent light
of crescent moon
in its slow rise

I see the glimmer
of thousands of faceless stars
among night’s ebony drop
as they trace the darkness
scribbled through fate,
the distance between us
is just as great.

I feel hidden from life
like the last leaf
on near naked trees
beneath winter’s frigid touch
yet i cling beneath the winds of time
ungrounded, yet untouched

9. Overpass

       by ChinHooi Ng

Standing on the overpass
I stop to look away
the endless stream of cars
sprinting from under my feet
dusky yellowish lights
start to illuminate the night
the city is beautiful at this time
yes it sure is
as the autumn winds blow
coolness grows
the heart feels barren
for no reason though
stars in the sky
twinkle once in a while
each one is an unknown dream
each one is too far away
a drop of rain fell from thereabouts
i saw it so i reach out
it touches my cheek
slips out of the corner of my eye
then in a trice
It floods the cityscape.

10. Myself in Urban Chaos

       by Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen

Here I go again, focused on myself.
Remembering, analyzing,
Memorializing tragedy.
Thinking, endless thinking.
Suicides, death of grandmas, past loves.
Pining about passions and losses.
The condo I had to let go.
The jobs I left behind.
And the cemetery lots.
My mind wonders around in circles.
From darkness to darkness, city to city,
Job to job, decision to decision
My children, I embrace with love.
Those years riddled with joys and pains.
Trying, always trying,
Yet, still disappointed.
Clinging to religion, remembering God.
Accepting –
Then, the child in me curls up
Safe in my warm cocoon,
And I think of you in the next room.
Life made new, fear subdued.
The touch of your hand, my confidence renews.
That forever love so long wanted, found at last.
The pressures I once knew moved to the past.
To the outside world I say adieu.
I was lost in the hollow of myself.
Outside of myself, I found peace.
Memories blot out urban chaos
And focus on woodland happy days.
Struggles not so painful anymore.
Peace found its hope in you.
…And then, we spoon.

Famous City Poems

Famous poems about cities have a unique power to transport readers to the heart of urban life. They eloquently depict the complexities and nuances of cities, leaving an indelible mark on the world of literature.

1. lost on The Subway

       by Hortência Granair

I held tight my belongings
afraid of everything and everyone
I had this sense of not knowing
where I’m from and where I should go

everything passed by so quickly
people running and screaming
I just sat quietly staring
at the tiffany blue coloured floor

I smelled the pollution
my nose hurting while breathing
this must be what they mean when they say
“it’s hard living in the big city”

2. Little Needles

       by ChinHooi Ng

It was raining
I stood at the intersection
poetry romps in my heart like a little digimon
the world seems outsize
the city disciplined
because of the rain
transparent umbrellas
in the lens of the live cam
misty skyscrapers
extendable streets
picture of the past
withered like a leaf on the bench
the rain falls from somber sky
and visits every part
it is the countless stitches of time
moving densely together
mending the scattered
cold and lonely
little hearts.

3. Prayer for The City

       by Janis Thompson

Dear God,
How heavy are my thoughts tonight!
I feel the ills of the city, pressing, pressing.
For all the young people being arrested, right now.
Lord, hear my prayer.
For a hand lifting in anger toward another
For the body that prostitutes to feed the need
For all those in captivity of any kind
Lord, hear my prayers.
For the protecting of a child in danger
For the sacred souls in all children
Lord, hear my prayers
For those who sit under bridges, doorways and plastic bags
Lord, hear my prayer
For every siren wail and 911 call
For every doctor waging war with a bullet or knife hole
Lord, hear my prayers
For every noisy, cramped, dysfunctional, roach infested house where
a flower blooms,
Lord, hear my prayer.

4. A City’s Death

       by Derek Walcott

After that hot gospeller has levelled all but the churched sky,
I wrote the tale by tallow of a city’s death by fire;
Under a candle’s eye, that smoked in tears, I
Wanted to tell, in more than wax, of faiths that were snapped like wire.
All day I walked abroad among the rubbled tales,
Shocked at each wall that stood on the street like a liar;
Loud was the bird-rocked sky, and all the clouds were bales
Torn open by looting, and white, in spite of the fire.
By the smoking sea, where Christ walked, I asked, why
Should a man wax tears, when his wooden world fails?
In town, leaves were paper, but the hills were a flock of faiths;
To a boy who walked all day, each leaf was a green breath
Rebuilding a love I thought was dead as nails,
Blessing the death and the baptism by fire.

5. Neon Lights

       by Sean

my thoughts scattered like chaff in the wind
dandelion seeds in a spring breeze
when you first spoke to me

“deep in thought, are you?” you ask, smiling
the cafe was suddenly so loud
your eyes so bright
life so vibrant

i smile back, nervously hesitate
(is this happening!?)
then “you caught me
lost in the urban sprawl of my mind
it’s nice to meet you, i’m sean”

but before we could touch
you disappeared down a side street
lit by neon signs; red, pink, blue
and i realized you were just my fantasy
a desire, too good to be true

6. House of The Tragic Poet

       by Amy Green

Two thousand years, a tragedy is past
Yet it’s history still leaves us aghast.

On a night, dreadfully dark
A volcano erupted, leaving it’s historical mark

Mount Vesuvius erupted in 79 AD
The first recorded in all of history

The entire city of Pompeii
Defiled and buried that fateful day

On written account of a man named Pliny
can we view this volcano’s ignominy

A city in which artist and poets did reside
Everything was not lost, the day all died

In centuries after, excavation has commenced
The city of Pompeii, antiquities recovered since

The House of the Tragic Poet, one of many unearthed
I will tell you about, from it’s peristyle to hearth

Elaborate mosaic floors, frescoes on the wall
An inscription in Latin, from a dog guarding the hall.

The atrium filled with with Mythic Greek nudes
From the peristyle Achilles to be sacrificed exudes

Art along the east wall are of Achilles and Briseis
and the tragedy of Helen and Paris, all cherished

About the entire house, a living poem depicted
Along with words, owner, an artist addicted.

Two thousand years ago, this home was owned
Loved and nourished by a Popeiian unknown.

The House of the Tragic Poet
If you saw, you would know it.

7. Man

       by Tom Doubty

God man, trinket man, fake leather wallet man,
Drugs man, drumming man, dancing on the street man
Antique man, eel man, bus man, trades man
Boots man, bagel man, feed me I am hungry man,
Fit man, gay man, straight man, trans man,
Chinese man, white man, “oi-back-to-where-you came from” man
Business man, rugger man, beautiful wife and kids man
Eco man, hipster man, shouting man, shaking man,
Scowling man, scumbag man, shuffling don’t come near me man
War man, drunk man, cruising near the bushes man
Watching man, medal man, pickpocket poor man
Box man, sleeping man, think he might be dead man,
Lost man, lonely man,
Looking from the ledge man

8. San Francisco

       by Kamal

San Francisco
My eternal city by the bay
My home, my sanctuary, my playground
My everything then and now
Years spent hugged by your fog
Tucked between your rolling hills

Long days and sleepless nights
Cold days and rainy nights
Sitting in the dark
Thinking and plotting
Tears filling my eyes planning my goodbye
My escape
And not to return
Ever!
San Francisco

9. Who’s Who

       by Kim Robin Edwards

Who’s who in the New York Zoo?
Said the clown with a funny face.
Many different cultures.
Within the human race.
Who’s who in the New York Zoo?
A lion, a bear, an elephant, a giraffe.
Many different animals.
All which make us laugh.
Who’s who in the New York Zoo?
A barber, a tailor, a dressmaker’s store.
Many different occupations.
Make your way through the door.
A Catholic, A Christian, A Saint, and A Jew.
Many different religions.
While we feed Central Park’s pigeons.
Who’s who in the New York Zoo?
Said the man with a great big shoe.
Find your subway to paridise!

10. Train to White City

       by Karen Cleaver-Bascombe

Slouching on the evening train
Ravelling through old anxieties,
It better than eye contact with robots
Haplessly Shuffling on and off
The deepest and fondest memories appear
Through the thorny ripples of mind
Speeding down memory lane
First memory, first bike, first bruise
First Day of school, no front teeth
Fast forward to first date,
Sloppiness of that first awkward kiss
First love pangs of distress
Until at last your realize
You passed your flaming stop.

Funny City Poems

The humor found in funny poems about cities sheds light on the quirks and idiosyncrasies of urban existence. These verses offer a lighthearted perspective on city life, reminding us to find laughter amid the city’s hustle and bustle.

1. Clock

       by Jacob Reinhardt

Clock!
You sculpt the clay of my life
With your rigid hands,
Shouting your high commands through morning alarms.
Accusations fly
As you collect your daily payment of attention.

When I find myself savoring life’s sweetness,
You sprint behind my back.
And when pain drops my heart from my chest,
You linger, rubbernecking from the wall.

You enclose the whole of my life
In that circular frame,
Ever spinning in your infinite math,
Drunk with power!

Clock!
I can take no more of your tyranny!
I can afford no more of your triple A battery lunches-
I am afraid you’ve run out of time.
So keep your hands out of my business, I’m sleeping in today.

2. City Sounds

       by Corinne Curcio

Gritty city sounds
Nature’s sweet music abounds
So come on guys- lend an ear

Plump pigeons cooing
Fire escape a-wooing
The notes of amour ring clear

What’s that? A “Squeak! Squeak!”
Poor mouse has begun to speak
Stuck to one of my glue traps

Surly gulls squawking
Their raucous way of talking
While dining on pizza scraps

Screeching love defines
Some caterwauling felines
With clamorous, catty glee

Such melodies soar
Though some of you may abhor
My tenement symphony

3. Bored in Manhattan not for Contest

       by Jan Allison

I was bored in Manhattan that day
So decided to pay for a lay
He was handsome and young
And was VERY well hung
I walked like John Wayne all of the day

Thanks to James Fraser’s Bored In Manhattan poem for the inspiration!

Just make me laugh contest
Sponsored by Christine Lehman

4. European Vacation

       by Warner Baxter

There once was a man from Rome
who’s head was shinny like chrome
gave the world spiritual hope
was given the title of Pope
now he wears a hat like that of a gnome

There once was a girl that lived in Brussels
who married a man, now they’re the Russell’s
she was kind of a geek
he was more than weak
she with no brains him without muscles

There once was a girl from France
who danced on stage with no pants
she showed off her tush
but never her bush
she left the crowd in a trance

5. Roll on

       by Jimmi Canada

Lauren Hill slow songs thrill,
they pop like a fast moving pill,
I am flopped on top of a junk food bill,
and running with a skunk who tells me to take in my fill-
like leading um’ on into my dream,
I create a festering lean,
I rank every thought in order of how I like it,
and prep for a long time that’s gonna break all the cycles.
Striding with my shrine,
as I shock a spine,
revitalize and prime-
as I preen and primp and chimp-
as I act like a pimp,
I black out and gimp,
skimp out on my dying moment because death is no shrimp!

6. A Man from Rome

       by Warner Baxter

There once was a man from Rome
who’s head was shinny like chrome
gave the world spiritual hope
was given the title of Pope
now he wears a hat like that of a gnome

7. Shaky Heights

       by Randy Steele

A foreman for the city does reap
Lots of overtime and a city heap
The streets covered with snow
My heap’s heater says “no”
I just long for that thing they call sleep

8. A Girl from France

       by Warner Baxter

There once was a girl from france
Who danced on stage with no pants
She showed off her tush
But never her bush
She left the crowd in a trance

9. City Swimmer

       by Richard Breese

city swimmer yesterday
screamed a fish was in the way
lifeguards who heard the shout
quickly they pulled her out
and my goldfish from the bay.

10. The Stranger

       by Ayesha Karim

I sit beside a handsome guy.
I imagine his breath on my neck.
He is tall.
His brown eyes are nice and,
O he has such gorgeous brown skin,
dark hair and a deep tan.
I want to kiss him on the lips.
I gesture towards him.
He moves a few inches and gets up.
Then leaves….
I realize I don’t know his name.

Short City Poems

Sometimes, brevity is the soul of wit, and short city poems masterfully capture the essence of urban life in just a few lines. These short poems about cities offer poignant glimpses into the urban experience.

1. In the Crowd

       by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts

I walk the city square with thee.
The night is loud; the pavements roar.
Their eddying mirth and misery
Encircle thee and me.
The street is full of lights and cries.
The crowd but brings thee close to me.
I only hear thy low replies;
I only see thine eyes.

2. Home

       by Anonymous

this is my city, my bones
my architecture i have crafted
started here, riverbanks and pinecones
budded here, my roots continue to grow

3. A Busy Street

       by Annette Wynne

All up and down the busy street
The people pass with eager feet—
They must have pleasant things to do
They hurry so the long day through.
All day long they pass me by;
They must have better things than I
At home or where they want to go—
And that is why they hurry so.

4. In This Place

       by Maureen McGreavy

I am the weed
Nestled
In a crack in the pavement
Dismantling concrete
Crumbling foundations
In this man made world
Rooted in the earth
Despite the city
I am the seed

5. Prayers of Steel

       by Carl Sandburg

Lay me on an anvil, O God. 
Beat me and hammer me into a crowbar. 
Let me pry loose old walls. 
Let me lift and loosen old foundations. 
 
Lay me on an anvil, O God.
Beat me and hammer me into a steel spike. 
Drive me into the girders that hold a skyscraper together. 
Take red-hot rivets and fasten me into the central girders. 
Let me be the great nail holding a skyscraper through blue nights into white stars.

6. Crannied Walls

       by John lawless

They cling, these city dwellers,
to crannied city walls
dusted with the exhaled indifference
of a blindly passing world.
Gasping in the fetid urban exhale
longing for the touch of errant bee.
Escapees of discarded flower pots
surviving on sporadic a/c drips
stretch to catch a glimpse of sunrise.
Rooted in their dreams of being free.

7. Sidewalk Speech

       by Zywa

Trolley cases on the quay, tourists
are part of it when you live here
And Thin John, sitting straight on his bike
every morning three times around the block
in the afternoon on foot the other way around
Mario the Sidewalk Speaker also
is part of it with his dog

Children jumping cannonballs
next to party people in their sloop
Anyone going on vacation
Every two minutes an air-plane
against the wind, low over the houses
Cyclists with their priority face
and the people who live here

The Americans in front of their café
on the corner, where believers sat
when the church with the tower was still there
Red Mia shuffling around
the litter bins, and neighbours
arguing again
They all belong

Here and everywhere the world
is maladjusted, we know
about ourselves and we address
each other: Hello! Good morning
good day here where we are at home
and can only wish that
everything remains different

8. Retired

       by Steinar Gismeroy Olafsen

Strolling around town
At prohibited time
Ignoring the church bell sounds
While I see people hurrying
Down the sidewalk
On their way to work

Think maybe I’ll find
Pen and paper
And have a coffee somewhere
Or maybe not

9. Alone in the City of Melancholy

       by Anonymous

Alone in the city of melancholy,
I feel the street sides smoldering my hazy eyelids.
At night the moons of lanterns touch me only marginally
and wing cracked moths circle the illuminated edges of the panel building’s decayed balcony –
gentle; endlessly.
Infinite depths of gray beneath the stone canyon skin
of 1980’s asphalt-wrinkled face of my ardently antagonized Berlin.

10. Fog

       by Carl Sandburg

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

Beautiful City Poems

For those who relish an in-depth exploration of cities, long poems about cities provide an expansive canvas. They paint detailed and immersive portraits of urban landscapes, inviting readers to lose themselves in the city’s tapestry.

1. While Climbing the Rocks

       by Sunlite Wanter

Through trees and rains and
Lakes I have lived, but today I shall remember,
Remember the child who climbed rock mountains,
Shutting out the city sounds and,
Music of wind cuddling foothills and dreams.
Dreams of a log cabin and dreams of love,
With someone to share the quiet of the dove;
Puttering with pursuits, watching horned toads play,
On the side of a mountain looking away.

2. Beautiful City of Gold

       by Charles H. Gabriel

There ‘s a city that looks o’er the valley of death,
And its glories can never be told;
There the sun never sets, and the leaves never fade,
In that beautiful city of gold.
There the King, our Redeemer, the Lord whom we love,
All the faithful with rapture behold;
There the righteous forever shall shine as the stars,
In that beautiful city of gold.
Ev’ry soul we have lead to the foot of the cross,
Ev’ry lamb we have brought to the fold,
Shall be kept as bright jewels, our crown to adorn,
In that beautiful city of gold.
In that city of light, where the sun never sets,
The inhabitants never grow old;
There no sorrow, no sickness, no death ever comes,
In that beautiful city of gold.

That beautiful city, the home of the soul,
Oh, what joy, and what rapture to behold (to behold)!
My Saviour to see, and forever to be,
In that beautiful city of gold.

3. Lights of The City

       by Craig Schaber

Lights of the city far away they look so pretty.
As I get closer your lights seem warm and
bright as I search all through the night.
But right next to you you’re not as warm as I had
dreamed.
I should never have traveled so far
now all I want is to go back and just see you
from afar. Your lights how pretty they are.

4. The Beautiful City

       by James Whitcomb Riley

The Beautiful City! Forever
Its rapturous praises resound;
We fain would behold it– but never
A glimpse of its dory is found:
We slacken our lips at the tender
White breasts of our mothers to hear
Of its marvellous beauty and splendor–;
We see– but the gleam of a tear!

Yet never the story may tire us–
First graven in symbols of stone–
Rewritten on scrolls of papyrus
And parchment, and scattered and blown
By the winds of the tongues of all nations,
Like a litter of leaves wildly whirled
Down the rack of a hundred translations,
From the earliest lisp of the world.

We compass the earth and the ocean,
From the Orient’s uttermost light,
To where the last ripple in motion
Lips hem of the skirt of the night–,
But the Beautiful City evades us–
No spire of it glints in the sun–
No glad-bannered battlement shades us
When all our Journey is done.

Where lies it? We question and listen;
We lean from the mountain, or mast,
And see but dull earth, or the glisten
Of seas inconceivably vast:
The dust of the one blurs our vision,
The glare of the other our brain,
Nor city nor island Elysian
In all of the land or the main!

We kneel in dim fanes where the thunders
Of organs tumultuous roll,
And the longing heart listens and wonders,
And the eyes look aloft from the soul:
But the chanson grows fainter and fainter,
Swoons wholly away and is dead;
AND our eyes only reach where the painter
Has dabbled a saint overhead.

The Beautiful City! O mortal,
Fare hopefully on in thy quest,
Pass down through the green grassy portal
That leads to the Valley of Rest;
There first passed the One who, in pity
Of all thy great yearning, awaits
To point out The Beautiful City,
And loosen the trump at the gates.

5. Showing off the City

       by Ilene Bauer

In a city as big as New Yawk,
There’s so much at which tourists can gawk
But the locals’ fast pace
May be hard to embrace
So if guiding them, slow down your walk.

You can never squeeze everything in,
So pick places they never have been
And of course, be a mensch;*
Let them sit on a bench
Or exhaustion will make their heads spin.

Have them soak up the buzz we provide,
Surely different from where they reside.
They may love it or not
But at least they’ll have got
Just a taste of what fills us with pride.

6. A Beam of Light

       by Katherine Braithwaite

A beam of light passed through my eyes
And showed to me a world disguised
So near, yet far, we do not see,
Unless by gift of grace redeemed.
That world is full of peace and calm
Its colors mingle, like a balm.
In such a moment all thought dies,
Revealing Love which underlies.
Colors caress my naked eyes.
Sunlight blesses new designs.
I stand enthralled, and do not wish
For one delight, other than this.
My breath slows down, and filled with joy,
I rove my eyes with bliss to toy.
Everything is just itself.
This is now my living wealth.
Beneath the noise of city traffic,
This mellow joy, love soporific,
This depth and peace, is always near
When we choose Love and turn from fear

7. Beautiful City

       by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Beautiful city, the centre and crater of European confusion,
O you with your passionate shriek for the rights of an equal
humanity,
How often your Re-volution has proven but E-volution
Roll’d again back on itself in the tides of a civic insanity!

8. Holly

       by Rob Carmack

As she walked across the sand,
receding waves made graffiti
out of the footsteps of a Valkyrie.
An ocean’s city let go of her hand
as we passed under a tree –
her hair like the gold of Valhalla’s marquee.
It was there, in another god’s hall,
the raven flew under a ceiling of shields,
and her grace lived in every swan.
It was then, when I first met need,
thirsting for wine but settling for mead.
Baldr’s death carved into a stone wall
moved me west to the mistletoe.
Her face held by another, his fingers
the lightening that tore open the skies
and bled the blue into her eyes.
My first loss and left out of place,
to learn what can’t be taught.

9. Everything Is Alright

       by Kenneth Fordham

The wind blows it’s gentle breeze,
Rustling leaves here and there,
A horn beeps then another,
The city cries, why me, where.
 
Bring back the time,
Bring back the joy,
Know you are mine,
Children playing, catch my, toy.
 
Beauty all around,
Flowers still blooming,
Some so profound,
Winter is coming, she is, going.
 
In a split instant,
Love everywhere,
Get out your knickers,
So many do care, alone sitting, in his chair.
 
Get on a plane,
Come to me please,
It is starting to rain,
I am starting to sneeze, set your mind, at ease.
 
I am on the edge of no return,
Something must happen,
The wheels must churn,
In the misty moonlight, playing, everything, is alright.

City Poems That Rhyme

The musicality of poems about cities with rhyme adds an enchanting dimension to urban storytelling. These verses celebrate the rhythm and pulse of cities, creating a poetic symphony that resonates with readers.

1. Nightfall’s Symphony

       by Anonymous

As the sun dips down, outcome the lights,
And the city dresses for the night.
With neon glow and streetlamp’s shine,
The city’s face begins to twine.

Music plays from bars nearby,
As stars appear in the night sky.
People dance and glasses clink,
In the dark, the city winks.

A symphony when night does fall,
With sounds and sights that do enthrall.
The city, in twilight’s gleam,
Becomes a nightfall’s glowing dream.

2. Portland

       by Elijah Kellogg

Still may I love, beloved of thee,
My own fair city of the sea!
Where moulders back to kindred dust
The mother who my childhood nurst,
And strove, with ill-requited toil,
To till a rough, ungrateful soil;
Yet kindly spired by Heaven to know
That Faith’s reward is sure, though slow,
And see the prophet’s mantle grace
The rudest scion of her race.
And while around thy seaward shore
The Atlantic doth its surges pour,
(Those verdant isles, thy bosom-gems,)
May Temples be thy diadems;
Spire after spire in beauty rise,
Still pointing upward to the skies
Unwritten sermons, and rebukes of love,
To point thy toiling throngs to worlds above.

3. The Heartbeat of the Street

       by Anonymous

The city hums a rhythmic beat,
With tapping shoes on busy feet
A tune of life on every street,
Where different souls do often meet.

The horns do honk in loud acclaim,
Each avenue has got its name.
Laughter drifts from cafe doors,
As day gives way to nighttime roars.

The city lives, it breathes, it grows,
From morning light to evening’s close.
Its heartbeat is a song complete,
The melody of every street.

4. Dreamscape Drift

       by Maya Anthony

Moonlit rivers, flow so still,
Mirroring dreams, the night does fill.
City’s breath, calm and light,
Whispers tales of dreams tonight.

Sleeping towers, in repose they stand,
Dreamscape’s gate, in twilight’s hand.
Drift along, let thoughts take flight,
In the city’s embrace, pure and slight.

Dreamers wander, with hearts so free,
Lost in the night’s silent spree.
Boundless horizons, the city’s gift,
In its dreamscape, souls do drift.

5. A Brook in The City

       by Robert Frost

The farmhouse lingers, though averse to square
With the new city street it has to wear
A number in. But what about the brook
That held the house as in an elbow-crook?
I ask as one who knew the brook, its strength
And impulse, having dipped a finger length
And made it leap my knuckle, having tossed
A flower to try its currents where they crossed.
The meadow grass could be cemented down
From growing under pavements of a town;
The apple trees be sent to hearth-stone flame.
Is water wood to serve a brook the same?
How else dispose of an immortal force
No longer needed? Staunch it at its source
With cinder loads dumped down? The brook was thrown
Deep in a sewer dungeon under stone
In fetid darkness still to live and run —
And all for nothing it had ever done
Except forget to go in fear perhaps.
No one would know except for ancient maps
That such a brook ran water. But I wonder
If from its being kept forever under,
The thoughts may not have risen that so keep
This new-built city from both work and sleep.

6. Postmen

       by Annette Wynne

Some postmen sit inside all day,
Giving lovely things away,
Packages and bundles tied
With the best of things inside,
And letters, too, all clean and white
They hand to you with great delight;
They like to sit there all the day
And give the pleasant things away.
But other postmen walk outside
Along the city far and wide;
They take the bundles that they give
And letters, too, out where you live;
They do not mind the walk at all,
They’re pretty strong, and glad and tall;
Such pleasant things some people do,
They must be happy all day through.

7. The Park’s Oasis

       by Anonymous

Amidst the rush and city glare,
A quiet park takes in the air.
Where trees and grass in corners squeeze,
A spot of peace and gentle ease.

Children laugh and dogs do play,
The city seems so far away.
Yet skyscrapers still kiss the sky,
While birds in trees are flying by.

An oasis in concrete lands,
Where nature and the city stands.
In harmony, they both reside,
In the park where peace does hide.

8. City Trees

       by Edna St. Vincent Millay

The trees along this city street,
Save for the traffic and the trains,
Would make a sound as thin and sweet
As trees in country lanes.

And people standing in their shade
Out of a shower, undoubtedly
Would hear such music as is made
Upon a country tree.

Oh, little leaves that are so dumb
Against the shrieking city air,
I watch you when the wind has come,—
I know what sound is there.

City Poems at Night

Cities take on a different persona at night, and poems about cities at night capture the mystique of these nocturnal landscapes. They offer a glimpse into the enchanting and sometimes enigmatic side of urban life.

1. Night in the City

       by Ellis Parker Butler

The sluggish clouds hang low upon the town,
And from yon lamp in chilled and sodden rays
The feeble light gropes through the heavy mist
And dies, extinguished in the stagnant maze.

From moisty eaves the drops fall slowly down
To strike with leaden sound the walk below,
And in dark, murky pools upon the street
The water stands, as lacking life to flow.

With hopeless brain, oppressed and sad at heart,
Toil’s careworn slave turns out his flickering light
And treads in dreams his dulling round again,
Where weary day succeeds to dismal night.

2. Neon Narratives

       by Maya Anthony

Beneath neon lights, stories unfold,
Whispers of the city, bravely told.
Moon peers down, a silvery sheen,
Casting magic on the night’s serene.

Heartbeats echo in alleyways dim,
Glimmers of laughter, a distant hymn.
Footsteps trace paths, old and new,
Night’s tapestry, in shades of blue.
 
Skylines gleam with a golden thread,
Stories of the night, waiting to be read.
Moments paused in the dance of light,
The city sings its song tonight.

3. The City at Night

       by Charlie F. Kane

The city is very beautiful at night.
To see the shimmering lights
In the buildings around,
Beacons to the minds eye.
The cars slide through the dark
And then disappear again
Into the dark corners of the nights.
The people weave in and out
Of the fabric of the night air,
Appearing briefly as a
Silhouetted puppets in the night sky.
The city is always very beautiful at night.

4. The Night City

       by W. S. Graham

Unmet at Euston in a dream
Of London under Turner’s steam
Misting the iron gantries, I
Found myself running away
From Scotland into the golden city.
 
I ran down Gray’s Inn Road and ran
Till I was under a black bridge.
This was me at nineteen
Late at night arriving between
The buildings of the City of London.
 
And the I (O I have fallen down)
Fell in my dream beside the Bank
Of England’s wall to be, me
With my money belt of Northern ice.
I found Eliot and he said yes
 
And sprang into a Holmes cab.
Boswell passed me in the fog
Going to visit Whistler who
Was with John Donne who had just seen
Paul Potts shouting on Soho Green.
 
Midnight. I hear the moon
Light chiming on St Paul’s.
 
The City is empty. Night
Watchmen are drinking their tea,
 
The Fire had burnt out.
The Plague’s pits had closed
And gone into literature.
 
Between the big buildings
I sat like a flea crouched
In the stopped works of a watch.

5. Night’s Tapestry

       by Maya Anthony

Buildings rise, against night’s hue,
Silhouettes painted, in shades of blue.
Windows aglow, with tales inside,
Moments of life, in shadows they hide.

Streets intertwine, paths interlace,
Each corner holds a memory, a face.
Night’s canvas, vast and wide,
Bears the city’s undying pride.

Midnight’s chime, echoes afar,
Under the watch of a solitary star.
Tales woven in night’s rich drapery,
The city reveals its timeless tapestry.

6. A Night in the City

       by Akanksha Varma

The sun has almost set in the sultry winter sky
And to every poet’s consternation,
Each nook of the city smells like cigarette smoke;
They wonder what they should write today,
A pint down with a burning throat
They walk through the city, to capture life.

 The night is piercing, even the hookers have put on modest clothes
and somewhere in a multi-storey building
a girl sings in the dark,
her drunken voice bewitching the entire city in its merry spirit;
And further down the lane,
an old man collapses, and with a wheezing breath
denounces his possessions to his son
and he breathes his last in the snow-clad streets,
the stars bearing witness to this commemoration;
and a girl stands over the bridge,
whose coat flips carelessly in the icy wind,
as she readies to jump into the freezing waters,
thinking desperately of last words that’ll hopefully
last longer than she herself did;

7. City at Night

       by Edmund Siejka

It was cold outside
I hadn’t shaved in days and I was hungry
I was going to walk it
Only a few blocks
Through the same streets I walked every day
So how bad could it be
At 1 AM?

The Diner’s neon sign
Shone in sharp relief in the night.
A greasy spoon type of place
Inexpensive meals
And large portions.

The waiter leaned against the chrome soda dispenser
Dark circles under his eyes
Anything good? I asked
Everything’s good he answered
Quickly taking my order
He resumed his post. 

I’ve been coming here for awhile and I don’t ever think I saw you around
Without turning around
I answered the stranger
I’m just getting something to eat.

I’ve been around lots of places he said
And I think I can spot a victim of disappointment
I’m a writer by day and at night a denizen of the streets
Because of who I am I have become frugal
So, I eat here to stay alive.

Ignoring him I started eating
When his chair creaked and swiveled 
I caught sight of his back when he left.    

I left the Diner around 2 am
Footsteps echoed around me 
Anxious I looked around
To be sure
I was alone.

Up ahead
Two men were talking
The taller of the two leaned against a car
Arms crossed against his chest
Watching me as I got closer
Cold night, isn’t it? he asked.

My breath curled out in the frigid night
I carefully answered,
Yes, it’s a little cold
Out for a night time stroll? he inquired
Before I could answer, the shorter of the two turned away
It was then I quickly turned
And hurriedly walked away.
 
Behind me the thudding sound of a car door slammed shut
Loud laughter broke the quiet of the night
Theirs was a private joke
And I was the intruder.

8. The Silent Symphony

       by Maya Anthony

Streets lie quiet, yet alive,
Secrets shared, where shadows strive.
Towers tall and traffic stilled,
Dreams of night, yet to be fulfilled.
 
Starlit breezes brush the trees,
Silent symphonies, no one sees.
Buildings stand, in silent mirth,
Guardians of the sleeping earth.

Moonlit waters, silvered bay,
Reflecting tales of yesterday.
While the city, in whispered tone,
Plays a symphony all its own.

9. City at Night

       by Anonymous

When the night begins to fall
And the sky begins to glow
You look up and see the tall
City of light begin to grow-

In rows and little golden lights
The lights come out First here, then there
Behind the window -panes as though
 
A million billion bees had built
Their golden hives and honeycombs
Above you in the air.

10. Urban Lullaby

       by Maya Anthony

City lights twinkle, soft and low,
Guiding the night, in its gentle flow.
Silent streets, in dreams they lay,
Embraced by the quiet, fading day.

Tired eyes seek night’s embrace,
As stars above, trace delicate lace.
The urban heartbeat, slow and deep,
Lulls its children into sleep.

Warm streetlamps, standing tall,
Casting shadows, over all.
Whispered secrets, the night does keep,
In the city’s gentle, rhythmic sleep.

City Poems for Kids

Urban life is a captivating adventure for young minds, and city poems for kids provide a delightful introduction to the wonders of cities. These verses spark imagination and curiosity, making the city a playground of discovery.

1. The City’s Love

       by Claude McKay

For one brief golden moment rare like wine,
The gracious city swept across the line;
Oblivious of the color of my skin,
Forgetting that I was an alien guest,
She bent to me, my hostile heart to win,
Caught me in passion to her pillowy breast;
The great, proud city, seized with a strange love,
Bowed down for one flame hour my pride to prove.

2. From a Bridge Car

       by Elias Lieberman

River inscrutable, river mysterious,
Mornings or evenings, in gray skies or blue,
Thousands of toilers in gay mood or serious,
Workward and homeward have gazed upon you.

Swirling or sluggish, but ever inscrutable,
Sparkling or oily, but never the same;
You, like the city, mysterious, mutable,
Tremble with passions which no on can name.

3. The Cities Inside Us

       by Alberto Ríos

We live in secret cities
And we travel unmapped roads.

We speak words between us that we recognize
But which cannot be looked up.

They are our words.
They come from very far inside our mouths.

You and I, we are the secret citizens of the city
Inside us, and inside us

There go all the cars we have driven
And seen, there are all the people

We know and have known, there
Are all the places that are

But which used to be as well. This is where
They went. They did not disappear.

We each take a piece
Through the eye and through the ear.

It’s loud inside us, in there, and when we speak
In the outside world

We have to hope that some of that sound
Does not come out, that an arm

Not reach out
In place of the tongue.

4. The City Outside My Ear

       by Michael Luis Medrano

A Minnesota poet
who writes in a plethora of ice
asks me what the shape
of a poem written in the hot dust
of the valley would look
and sound like. I tell him
it is all dust, even in the city
outside my ear—
my bedroom window rattling
when gunshots pop, when the cops
in metallic cars screech through
barrio streets, when a miniature man
is swallowed by the lake of shadows
and the streaming lights of the helicopter
night.

5. Pedestrian

       by Samuel Amadon

I am a walker. I follow the sun as it angles
Into the evening on an edge where

A thoroughfare meets a hill of empty houses,
And as it spreads through back roads, I walk

Into nights—imaginary city—into nights
I walk changed, to be changed like a character

In a story I might read at the diner
On a damp morning when I don’t feel right, or

By the fire, folded into fire, days or nights
Or days again, walking with a map in

My head, a little blood in my teeth. If I walk
Out into my own block, and don’t know

Where I am, things may even out in
Neighborhoods I’ve never been to as I

Begin to feel at home, and forget what I am
After. I walk along the edge of the airfield.

The city swells in and out of my descriptions.
I can’t make fit these words falling from

My mouth. Ships in the yard at a distance,
Then close. Clouds precede me as I walk

Home—it’s not far now—between two
Memories, sidewalk shifting among

Mailboxes, streetlights, apartment complexes,
All of it settling into the orange domes

Of the synagogue, where Farmington Avenue
Dips down into the city, meets the rise of

Its buildings. This is where I’m from.
My city made real. I am elegant. Tiresome.

The avenue, I can’t be precise now about how
It was then, though I see I’m still this person

In here, nestled among words. They aren’t mine.
Stopping under a tree by a wall. Darkness

Cast like a light. I’m lying alone on a bench,
Feet on the arm, fingers on the sidewalk,

Buzzing with caffeine. The police come, but
I sit up and they stay in their cars. I am so

Able to be large and harmless. Thought beating
In the heart. Every yard a very varnished green.

I come and go and come and go all night. Past
The familiar gas station, through the white

Squares of the divinity school, mansion rows,
Wide and wealthy. Perhaps I depend too much

On a breeze rising unexpectedly out of
The night’s heat? No matter. Long after curfew,

And I could care less which city or street.
There are rules to these things, but I’ve walked

Beyond them. I’m the figure in the distance.
Not everything has to be a struggle, I say.

6. Mustard Flowers

       by Ajmer Rode

If you see an old man sitting alone
at the bus stop and wonder who he is
I can tell you.
He is my father.
He is not waiting for a bus or a friend
nor is he taking a brief rest before
resuming his walk.
He doesn’t intend to shop in the
nearby stores either
he is just sitting there on the bench.

Occasionally he smiles and talks.
No one listens.
Nobody is interested.
And he doesn’t seem to care
if someone listens or not.

A stream of cars, buses, and people
flows on the road.
A river of images, metaphors, and
similes flows through his head.
When everything stops
at the traffic lights it is midnight
back in his village. Morning starts
when lights turn green.
When someone honks
his neighbor’s dog barks.

When a yellow car passes by
a thousand mustard flowers
bloom in his head.

7. August Morning, Upper Broadway

       by Alicia Ostriker

As the body of the beloved is a window
through which we behold the blackness and vastness of space
pulsing with stars, and as the man

on the corner with his fruit stand is a window,
and the cherries, blackberries, raspberries
avocados and carrots are a rose window

like the one in Chartres, yes, or the one in Paris
through which light floods from the other world, the pure one
stabbing tourists with malicious abundant joy

though the man is tired in the summer heat
and reads his newspaper listlessly, without passion
and people pass his stand buying nothing

let us call this scene a window looking out
not at a paradise but as a paradise
might be, if we had eyes to see

the women in their swaying dresses, the season’s fruit
the babies in their strollers infinitely soft: clear window
after clear window

8. 9th and 2nd

       by Joy Ladin

I’m alive you say
to no one in particular.

You are no one in particular.
That’s a good thing. The street is filled with souls

nested in good-looking bodies
that aren’t looking

in your direction. Someone is singing,
someone’s holding hands

with someone who is embarrassed by affection,
men and women made of light

drink in light
made of men and women.

They are alive you say,
meaning no one in particular.

One of them is singing, one is selling flowers,
one is so thin

you can almost see through her. One is looking
in your direction.

I’m alive you say, a little embarrassed
to be no one in particular, a soul

nested in a body
of men and women.

Someone is singing, someone is drinking
tea that is sweet and bitter.

It’s a good thing you say,
drinking in the light

of men and women,
men and women made of light, nested

in the sweet and bitter. A soul
is singing in your direction, so alive

you can almost see her.

9. Passers-by

       by Carl Sandburg

Passers-by,
Out of your many faces
Flash memories to me
Now at the day end
Away from the sidewalks
Where your shoe soles traveled
And your voices rose and blent
To form the city’s afternoon roar
Hindering an old silence.

Passers-by,
I remember lean ones among you,
Throats in the clutch of a hope,
Lips written over with strivings,
Mouths that kiss only for love,
Records of great wishes slept with,
Held long
And prayed and toiled for:

Yes,
Written on
Your mouths
And your throats
I read them
When you passed by.

10. Sharks’ Teeth

       by Kay Ryan

Everything contains some
silence. Noise gets
its zest from the
small shark’s-tooth-
shaped fragments
of rest angled
in it. An hour
of city holds maybe
a minute of these
remnants of a time
when silence reigned,
compact and dangerous
as a shark. Sometimes
a bit of a tail
or fin can still
be sensed in parks.

Final Thoughts

Cities are living, breathing entities, and through the lens of poetry, we discover their heartbeats, their quirks, and their enchanting mysteries.

Whether you’ve found inspiration in the best, the famous, the humorous, or the evocative poems about cities, remember that the city is a dynamic canvas for poets to paint their words.

It’s a place of endless stories, each alley and avenue a new chapter.

Join the conversation and celebrate the beauty and complexity of cities through the lens of city poetry.

As we conclude our exploration of city poems, we invite you to share your thoughts in the comments below.

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