NaPoWriMo #6: Last Minutes of the Day

Concrete's cold embrace

stretching out to meet the sky.

Grasping at the clouds 

with fingers of steel and glass.

The towers of commerce

caressed by the last rays of day,

an orange inferno bathing the rooftops

but shading the streets.

The vacant shop fronts

with hooded figures in sleeping bags

shivering and hunched over,

silhouetted by the glow within.

The trains clatter along aching tracks,

the seagulls swoop and dive 

in the space between the towers

until at last the inferno

is swallowed by the hills beyond

and the city lights take hold. 

NaPoWriMo #16: Urban Dweller

A furnace of concrete, petrol and cash,
city stream from the boiling streets
float above the blank-faced office towers.

To dwell on the hectic trading streets,
the city denizen must be astute,
as sharp as a swallow
at the turn of the season.

Sidestepping slow shoppers,
snapping up cut-price showstoppers,
drinking at the trendiest coffee shops

because all their friends go to them,
the watering holes of hollow insight
and futile strategies for the future
along with some rest from the tide.

Dodging traffic when crossing the road,
catching buses and trains on the go,
working indoors in the heat of day,

at the end of a chain of production,
heading finished articles to satisfy
the insatiable yet indecisive demand,
then walking home under the orange glare

when the street lights come out to play.