The Faceless City Poem by Valsa George

The Faceless City

Rating: 5.0


Once I have been to that city
The city of ritzy splendour,
of hoary grandeur,
a gargantuan pile of steel and granite.
It stood an enigma
on the banks of Hudson,
lulling the waves to sleep
in the garish light of neon bulbs
with an eternal tumult
heating up its nerves

Walking down its streets alien
scenes eerie scurried past-
Men and women-
of all climes and continents
all ethnic denominations,
all shapes, sizes and colours,
Blonds, brunettes,
Blacks and whites,
Tourists and nomads,
in flashing styles
outlandish costumes,
Tonsured, dyed
and tattooed,
on shoulders, back and chest
with bizarre shapes,
Some dressed from top to toe
many bordering on nudity,
splurging with life
feverish and frenzied
speaking different dialects,
some tall, some lean, many obese
trundling down busy streets
that never go still
with sleep and awakening
but action, commotion and agitation,
where each day is an eternity
and each night- a New Year’s Eve
where business runs without pause or cessation
rife with sounds and noises -
the incessant roars of fevered minds
muffled, stifled, excited, agonized
mixing with music flowing from concert halls
merging in sounds of siren
and speeding traffic
A banal hubbub-
A hoarse discordant clamour!

I passed through avenues
where sky scrapers
huddled together on either side
where once stood the Twin Towers
stabbing into the clouds –
those titanic monuments of Yankee pride,
now razed down to Ground Zero
where terrorists wreaked havoc
and wiped thousands unwary -
still frozen in that day light nightmare!

Passing down Wall Street,
the nation’s Money Mart
that spawns an industry
of ruthless dreams and fantasies,
I saw,
the mammoth Bull, charging feral
under whose crushing hooves
many fall dead
and rise again like Phoenix
or soar into indefinable heights
or bury their dreams ever
under the sod.

Broad roads that stretched endless
seemed to lose themselves
like the mazy tangle of complex minds,
and pavements
littered with a thousand moving feet
Men and women in pairs,
hand in hand,
lip to lip,
bodies entwined
seen in beaches and parks
staging an interim drama
in whose brain
Marriage- labelled an anachronism!

In these hurricane of faces
with fleeting passions
or fixations of their own
What chemistry could I discern?
A zest for life- or its absence?
A search for a life lost in living?
A fight for survival
Or
A passive surrender to the inevitable?
I do not know—
I fail to define
I fail to divine.

POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
The city is described faceless because in New York, you can see a larger medley of men of all countries and climes than in any other city and perhaps foreigners outnumber the New Yorkers!
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Aftab Alam Khursheed 14 November 2013

A passive surrender to the inevitable? I do not know— I fail to define I fail to divine. Valsa George very nice imagination a complete journey well thank

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Susan Lacovara 12 November 2013

After just spending last night, on the streets of Manhattan, I can see how you would find the city racing at a maddening pace, with a never ending parade of personalities. At times, seemingly impossible to fully digest, or keep up with...but, do not miss that they is indeed an underlying heartbeat, that pulsates fluidly, and offers the very lifeblood to those who seek a cacophony of culture and creativity. While it can be overwhelmingly abstract, it is also pure in it's warmth, humble and welcoming. Amid the titan towers of marble, stone, steel and glass, you'll discover and uncover the true heart of the city. What an excellent, descriptive tour of the town, you've provided... I loved it...and I AM a native New Yorker..PEACE

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Danny Draper 11 November 2013

I thoroughly enjoyed this narrative of a open minded take it as it comes trip along New York streets. Sydney is also very multicultural and the whole world will soon walk past. What a great hope for a blended humanity you have painted. A fine read and journey with an inconclusive end which could allow the writer another trip to find a conclusion, no matter how elusive or illusionary.

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The city of twin ghost towers Is yet a city of hope Where some find true lovers And others live on a thin rope In many ways, it resembles our Mumbai and I have been stunned by the sight of crowds spilling out of local trains in CST station. It is almost like looking at the raging frothy sea and you suddenly feel insignificant and with that a feeling of divinity too. Very good work!

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Dinesan Madathil 10 November 2013

I have read Adam Mayblum`s article ' We are on the 87th floor- something is wrong that traces the moments of terror experienced by the author and his colleagues. Madam Valsa, your poem is an appendix to such an essay with enough stuff for much more inner reading. A poem with in depth analytical strength of the kind required! Well written Madam.

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Kumarmani Mahakul 29 December 2018

This is a beautiful poem on faceless city having touching expression and nice collocation. The following lines are much impressive. In these hurricane of faces with fleeting passions or fixations of their own What chemistry could I discern? A zest for life- or its absence? A search for a life lost in living? A fight for survival Or A passive surrender to the inevitable?

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Akhtar Jawad 03 August 2015

A zest for life- or its absence? A search for a life lost in living? A fight for survival Or A passive surrender to the inevitable? I do not know— I fail to define I fail to divine. A real thoughtful poem.

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Kanav Justa 10 December 2013

, , , you even gave the minutest of the detail, , , , , great representation, ,

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Roseann Shawiak 21 November 2013

Wonderful poem, it's depth scurries through the city, seeing and explaining everything in rapid detail. Loved the descriptions of people, can imagine being there and seeing all this as you're seeing it. Have been to New York also, used to go to the Village every weekend, always something going on there. Want to thank you for your comments on my poem: Nightmarish Dreams. I'm delighted that you enjoyed it. It's nice to know that I'm doing something good. Thank you. RoseAnn

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Patricia Grantham 18 November 2013

I lived in New York for many years in the borough of Brooklyn. It is the city that never sleeps. It is a mixture of many races, religions, cultures, and creeds. Even though this is the case it seems that this mixture comes together to make a good tasting stew. If you can overcome its hectic life and constant source of entertainment you will make it. The city that never sleeps but is never tired can't be all bad. Nice write.

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