Rooftops Poems - Poems about Rooftops

colour-less bleak sky raindrops murmur on rooftops ...

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The more I figure something out, the less the words impact When trading dreams for cogent schemes, the verse comes weak and flat The more I chase the clouds away, the clearer are the doubts That misty haze around my gaze, whose whisper—now a shout (Dreamsleep: March, 2021)...

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High above the sidewalks Of the city’s concrete tangle Perched atop the houses From a somewhat tilted angle You may find that there exists A great respite from the hustle A place one may escape And seek a refuge from the tussle Life on the...

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Keep it to yourself and keep looking around Do you need to be there? Can you see the light under the neon? Can you read the lips of the gaudy? Change is sitting there somewhere With a glass, weary-eyed Wondering what has become of it. With every segue, the faces waltz around, The lightness of being is perforated Like an unnoticed sidereal sky, Crowded rooftops...

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Here, in the heart of New York locked within the concrete maze of buildings, avenues and taxis, I hear the perpetual cacophony of noises echoing all around me. Looking up, a taste of freedom Freedom from the masses that move relentlessly along the streets. Hints of greenery peak out along the sides and edges of the rooftops. Man made gardens are up there, hidden...

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If Christmas came several times a year I would surely be a very happy guy What a true treasure having family near If Christmas came several times a year I would enjoy the carols I love to hear My spirits to the rooftops would surely fly If Christmas came Several times a year I would truly be a very happy guy...

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RUNNING ROOFTOPS TO RUINATION Long Island had raised me but the island wasn’t long enough And everyday I had upper-middleclass b******t to rebuff Day after day I’d stride the stairs to the roof of a building where the wicked would meet Well not so much wicked as just a black man and a white boy trying to be discreet A...

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I used to live for everything; for the naked trees in the autumn, for the smell of hope in the spring. Every time that smell came I would breathe deeper. I would look out of my window at night and see the city lights gleaming up at me, they screamed, ‘you can have this, you...

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It’s a year later and the wind has calm. The hard rain now just sprinkles and the rooftops are empty. Empty of the hands reaching up to sky hoping to be rescued from the rooftops. Empty of the face filled with despair wondering how are they going to rebound from this? ...

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