Cityscapes

City Street Under Amber Ashlight

 

Raining in Downtown

Rain lent each stone a softer name;

The towers climbed into a veil of light.

Below, the lamps wove threads of golden flame.

While blossoms kept a little spring in sight.

The city spoke not loudly in rain—

And every puddle kept the last refrain.

 

Titans Under Amber Haze

                                              Elegy Beneath the Amber Sky

Morning awoke in garments not its own;
The faithful blue had yielded to the flame.
A golden veil lay softly over stone,
And every tower seemed to speak its name.

The ash had climbed these streets of steel and glass,
And had descended on the thriving trees;
Yet from the pine-clad North, as it passed,
Unhealthy matter came with the summer breeze.

How strange that woods no city eye had known,
Whose ancient roots drank other rains than ours,
Should stain the light that crowned our fields of stone,
And dim the proud ascent of glass and towers.

The sun still shone, but gentled by the air,
Its ardent face subdued to quiet gold;
It seemed less ruler of the heavens there
Than witness to a grief too vast to hold.

What unseen thread binds forest, wind, and town,
That one far wound can alter all the sky?
Whose hand can say where mourning settles down,
Or measure the miles through which the tears fly?

Yet wind remembers neither crown nor wall;
It keeps no map of kingdom, field, or sea.
Whatever grief befalls, befalls us all,
For earth is larger than we choose to see.

The amber day will pass. The blue return.
The towers will reclaim the light they knew.
But hearts once taught how distant forests burn
Will never wholly lose that altered view.

 

 City of Translucent Realms

City of Hidden Light

Beneath the bridge, the water holds its breath,

in gradients of dusk and flame it dreams.

The skyline hums, not loud, but deep as death,

its towers stitched with soft, elusive beams.

No sun commands this city’s measured pace,

no moon bestows her silver on the stone.

Yet every pane reflects a secret grace,

each shadow sings a light it’s never shown.

The colors rise, then fall in hush and hue—

a bloom of red, a breath of patient green.

The night forgets, but memory breaks through,

in flickers where the soul has once been seen.

So walk this bridge, and feel the silence bend—

the hidden light is yours, and does not end.

The City Where Geometry Blooms

Where towers rise like petals spun,
and bridges stretch beneath the sun,
the city hums in colored light—
a bloom of form, a dream in flight.

Its buildings wear mosaic skin,
with scales of thought and hues within.
Each angle bends, each surface sings,
beneath the sky’s unfolding wings.

The river flows through mirrored days,
reflecting reds and pastel haze.
It carries blues the clouds once shed,
and whispers green where gardens spread.

No rule constrains this blooming place,
where math and feeling interlace.
Each curve a breath, each line a tune—
a city shaped by sun and moon.

So walk its streets with open eyes,
where wonder lives and logic flies.
For here, beneath the painted dome,
geometry has found  bloom in stone.

 

My City Future

🌿 The Nostalgia of Future — Free Verse      .

The city breathes in glass and leaf,

its lungs made of terraces,

its veins of riverlight.

We built it from memory—

not of what was,

but of what we hoped would be.

The bridge does not divide,

it gathers:

a gesture of connection

between mirrored dreams.

Petals drift like thoughts

we forgot to finish,

and the water listens

without judgment.

Above, towers lean into sky

like children reaching for stories

they’ve only heard in whispers.

And somewhere in the silence,

a future exhales—

soft, green,

forgiving.

🌤️ The Nostalgia of Future — Lyrical Refrain

And we remember forward,

we remember forward,

the way petals once dreamed of pavement,

and clouds rehearsed the shape of cities.

We remember the hush

before the blueprint spoke,

the breath of bridges

not yet drawn.

We remember forward,

we remember forward,

how glass became gentle,

how towers learned to bend

toward light.

And in that memory,

the future blooms

My City Unreal Dream

 

My City Dream. White night

 

My City Dream. White night #2

 

My City Pink Dream

My City Dream # 2

 

My City dream. Autumn

 

My City dream

Beneath the skyline’s silver gleam,

A lily river reflects my dream—

Stone bridge arched in quiet grace,

Leading me to time and space.

Glass towers rise like modern scrolls,
Etching futures, daring souls.
Yet ivy clings to brick and beam,
Whispering stories in the stream.

I walk where prairie winds once roamed,
Where jazz and justice found a home.
Each brick, each historic street,
A pulse where past and present meet.

The water’s mirror speaks my name,
A canvas calm, yet set aflame.
I paint with light, with ink, with air—
My city's breath is everywhere.

From Chinatown’s lantern glow,
To murals where bold colors flow,
I blend tradition, tech, and lore—
A city muse forevermore.

So let me build with brush and rhyme,
A future rooted deep in time.
Where art and heart and skyline stream—
This is my loving city dream.

 

 

Cityscape with Temple at Sunset

Old Ruins # 6

 Old Ruins # 77

Old Ruins # 70

Old Ruins # 61