This was a poem about New York City when I went there a long time ago..
Harsh, perceiving, ample
City of the Iron Leg
They say you are one of a kind. Well make no doubt the men have seen anything but shine.
And they call at you like a perilous call. The alleyway sounds nothing of the sort, only for a midnight brawl.
And they seem to know the difference between right & wrong. Even the locals know some officers are corrupt.
And to those livid with doubt, pity, and shame.
You’ll never see a place with such beauty to its name.
Throwing musical choruses among the work of the crowd, there’s not but a singer, a singer so loud
Even the city thanks to their grace
Counting their time until the melody sways
Might like a lion prowling for meat, sly like a hound that no one can beat
Structuring, forming, rejoicing
Gleaming with joy, showing his face
Nobody knows how hard this takes
Gleaming like a covalent little child
Gleaming like a tunnel digger seeing the sun that’s mild