A View of New York in the 1950s

Freeverse (Dylan Thomas, Oct 1914 – Nov 1953)

I as one who has never touched the shining Big Apple -

as ruthless then as it's ruthless now -

gaze at its romantic pictures

moving on my TV screen

depicting New York's glistening streets

of the nineteen fifties,

the decade Dylan died there.

Screaming lights and busy marquees

dance in the sparkling, winking streets;

cars hopeful and celebrating the light that is night

in a weaving street of what is temporary;

but, hell, what a street! -

one I would live in,

would love in, would die in,

but only after I would cry in it,

cry my happiness to all who would listen,

and think me mad

but know in our shared, hand-held joy

that one from afar loves the streets

of a city he thinks he will never touch.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

oh wow, this poem strikes a nostalgic nerve.

i touched those streets in the 50's...
born there in 1950 and lived there until October of 1958...
I lived in the Bronx...five story walkup apartment.

walked a few blocks to and from school in first, second and part of third grade.
went to the park across the street by myself.
skated and played hopscotch on the concrete....so much of it there.
spent summers in Vermont and knew from that the city was not going to stay my home.
but it is the city of my birth...we lived a couple miles from Yankee Stadium...and the Polo Grounds.
I was a big Yankee and Giant fan...hated the Dodgers...and just loved baseball from the time I was 4...
the winking streets still wink at me in my dreams.
thanks for this poem,
j.

[Andrew John]

Thank you, gentlemen, for your comments. I wrote this maybe six or seven years ago, though later put it on the Poetry Soup website, where a lot of my stuff sits. Why this came to me - apart from Dylan Thomas and the fact that he was born and lived here in Wales, where I've lived for 20 years or so - I cannot say. Just found myself thinking of someplace I had never been but seen much of on TV and in movies.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

You breathe wonder and life in images of a city, which itself is alive and breathing. New York has always captured the imagination of the world. And in someway reflects the true heart of America. Thank you Andrew for sharing your poem with us.