I Hear My City Singing

 

I hear my city singing, the varied carols I hear,

Those of electricians, each one singing with pride and fortitude,

The postman singing his as he places envelopes and packages into mailboxes,

The librarian singing as she organizes bookshelves,

The musician singing the melody he knows well as he and his band load instruments into their truck,

The cook singing as he sweats in the heat that cooks and serves,

The architect whistling as he analyzes blueprints, the roof tiller singing in agreement as he lays stucco,

The doctor singing, she has been on-call for forty-eight hours,

Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else

Singing with open mouths their strong boisterous songs.

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Based on Walt Whitman's "I Hear America Singing"

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Jer''s picture

I see in my previous comment

I see in my previous comment i had a bad typo---yes, i can really spell "symphony."  But these arthritic fingers do not type as well as they used to.  Oh well, this poem also sounds very Whitmanesque, and you are giving that old man a bit of serious competition.


Jer'

Jer''s picture

Adolescent angst as this

Adolescent angst as this poem's folder?  This is not angsty at all, this is gloriously triumphant.  You have orchestrated, in your reader's imagination, a complete sypnohony of voices, while allowing each to be a soloist as well.  Not an easy task, but one you have accomplished well.


Jer'

hopelessly-candid's picture

Haha thank you very much... i

Haha thank you very much... i just put it in that folder because I wrote it when I was really young... and I didn't think it was very good ^_^

Jer''s picture

You didn't think it was very

You didn't think it was very good.  Forgive me, but you missed the train on that one.  It is very good.  And the comments that have collected on this poem are better proof than anything I could say. 


Jer'

life_used_to_be_lifelike's picture

this is a delicious and

this is a delicious and different outlook of a mundane day. I LOVE the title


"It is a terrible thing to be so open. It is as if my heart put on a face and walked into the world" -- Sylvia Plath.

hopelessly-candid's picture

Thank you! :).... i wanted it

Thank you! :).... i wanted it to have some more power and emotion compared to whitman's original

Eckert008's picture

Walt! I love it!

Walt! I love it!

hopelessly-candid's picture

Thank you :)

Thank you :)

nightlight1220's picture

You forgot the joyous sound

You forgot the joyous sound of intoxication from the watering holes. Fantastic write!

....


...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."

"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "

 

hopelessly-candid's picture

Thank u so much :))))

Thank u so much :))))

a.griffiths57's picture

Put them all together and you

Put them all together and you have a choir. They must be absorbed in their work to be happy and singing.

Liked your poem good read.


 

 

http://www.postpoems.org/authours/a.griffiths57

hopelessly-candid's picture

Ya... together their

Ya... together their patriotic voices help build America :) thank you btw

allets's picture

Taken Village

A symphony, simply sung - simply heard. Definitions of happiness as productivity like "Chicago, hog butcher of  the world..." and "The People, Yes!" To rejoice in what is. Nuff said. - Just Bein' Stella