Creative City-Pier Giorgio Di Cicco

Creative City

to look, and not avert one's gaze;that is where all the art is, the passionand the city. people who do not look,cannot see canvas, or poems or
notes for happiness.
art does not begin with art,but in the eyes. the eyes are everything;when you look up at another, and look away without a smile,
you have killedeverything you want tobring home, oh citizen.




(look to comment for response to this contemporary poem)

Numb

Awaiting our soon departure, I wince at the window adjacent
The thought of the cold penetrating my skin, disabling my body
Opening the doors, the icy glass shatters beneath each step
Stinging my nose, a stumble while maneuvering through the snow
Regardless of my hood shrouding my numb countenance, I heard
The waves rolling gently towards the frozen shore, the geese chattering
Stirred by the overwhelming and bitterness, I was obliged to look up
As my eyes came toward the horizon, a misprint caught my eye
I bent down, my numb joints let out a whimper, and traced the print
Piercing my finger, the mark, disrupting the snow, caused intrigue
Amongst this barren landscape, there was in fact life, abundant even
I shuttered with a sudden emotion of seclusion and isolation
Desperate to seek refuge, I turn around and my eyes met the skyline
Spilled orange with mauve stains, I pause for a moment
The cold then tightens its grasp on my throat and I break away

A misconception, eh?

I came upon this man one day
Quite flushed as he did come to me
He yelled, a place we shall soon go
With cold, fierce bears, strange talk we’ll see!

With bears, you say, what else is there?
My word, I’ll tell, need not to fret
The winds, the snow, with more I think
No fruit, they’ll eat whale fat I bet!

Your right, dear friend, no yum for them
A house of ice where ‘nucks are born
Their schools, absurd, teach a to zed
Big great igloos I could have sworn

When ice does melt, the whales go dry
Despite the ice, the snow remains
For all these meals they’ll eat flapjacks
So much syrup I’d go insane!

Young man, where lies this cold dark place?
This pic does seem just north of here
You’re nuts, photos, postcards, that’s all?
Foolish, I say, you’ve never been near!

A Dire Splendor

The ground beneath crunches at a somber pattern

My icy breath pierces the barren ambience ahead

A longing for warmth is shattered by the shrieking winds behind

Unknowingly, a grin crosses against my seemingly numb countenance

United perhaps? Are we not? Enduring this monotonous serenity

Whether a mere duration or eternity, an appreciation is earned

The tree to my right, releases a snow drift from its loosening clutch

A quick slip on the lustrous surface, followed by an unprecedented blink

Suddenly, an entirely altered landscape is presented

Below a strategically set number of layers, I felt an overwhelming sense of pride

Awed by a strangely familiar splendor, my vexatious chills gone

Jogging, he smiled at me, his face stained red with the merciless cold

Around him gentle rays reflected of the colorless earth, a squint became necessary

A new perception then erupted, a compassion misplaced, found

The landscape surrounding me, incredible, but it a different way

The striking view allowed a realization of the purity and innocence

This winter scene reckoned splendor available in the nation of true virtue

Moments later, another slip, the view still remained, undisturbed and wondrous

I then continued walking and listened intently only to the crunching ground beneath

Alligator Pie

Alligator pie, alligator pie,If I don't get some I think I'm gonna die. Give away the green grass, give away the sky, But don't give away my alligator pie.

Alligator stew, alligator stew,If I don't get some I don't know what I'll do.Give away my furry hat, give away my shoe,But don't give away my alligator stew.

Alligator soup, alligator soup,If I don't get some I think I'm gonna droop.Give away my hockey stick, give away my hoop,But don't give away my alligator soup.

Dennis Lee