Big City


My city, concrete and stone
busy streets, all alone
bustle of people
big church steeple
cars, buses and a bike
many folk, that look alike
shop windows invite you in
charity worker shaking their tin
noise, fumes and pollution
the government trying to find a solution
pigeons prance without a care
men and women just stand and stare
market stalls with fresh produce
persuasive banter to induce
offices, shops and high street banks
ladies doing surveys that recieve no thanks
a busker strums on his guitar
the music can be heard from afar
a day in the life of my city
can be hectic, can be pretty
fast food joints and coffee shops
time for a latte with creamy tops
homeless folk in a door
big issue sellers for the poor
police sirens scream and wail
I’m off to the pub for some ale
CCTV that watches every move
break dancers busting a groove
time to go and head for home
cold and tired and all alone.

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    This Poems Story

    This poem is about the daily routine of people in a big city.