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Below my feet

The Concrete Jungle Frozen Within

A vast out stretch

Of concrete and black tar

As far as the eye can see

The earth is covered

No barren spot can be seen

Houses loom on top of each other

Towers stack people

Up in the air

Side by side

On the bottom

You listen

As people walk on your head

From above

No trees

No flowers

Little grass can be seen

No green in sight

The brown barren remains

Look you in the eye

The friendly faces

The smiles

Gone at last

Not a spoken word

Does one mutter

As they encounter you

On the empty street

Passing them by

Freedom is gone

The loom hangs over

People looking at the feet

As they hurry on by

Afraid to look up and smile

The mugger might be near

The children are prisoners

No chance to be free

Parents cradle their little ones

Deep inside their homes

Afraid to let them out

The predator might be born

Stocking from a parked car

Driving down the road

Ready to snatch

The innocent

And prey upon the thorn

The city life

As dangerous as can be

Offers no freedom

Anywhere I can see

People hide within their homes

Afraid to look outside

The cars race up the street

Late into the night

Hiding and praying

As the gun shots ring out

In the middle of the night

The cars race by

Fast as can be

Young boys hang out the windows

Colors dull and dark

Not seen in the night

Displaying their colors

This gang bang is me

Fear creeps in

As the car speeds away

Afraid to open your door

To see who is screaming

Next door

A cry rings out

In the middle of the night

Bouncing off the concrete walls

Echoing in the silence night

Help me someone

Little Johnny been

Gunned down

Not a sound you can hear

No help is on the way

People kneel down and pray

Hidden deep inside their homes

Prisoners in the jungle

Of concrete and fear

People know not what to do

The world around

Is gone

Not like before

Freedom is a thing of the past

Fear now looms within

Written by Ann LeFlore after leaving the islands where the land is not covered over with concrete and the roads are still small to the city where all you see is concrete under your feet. On the islands children are free but in the city children are forced to stay inside their homes and do not play on the street. The city is so different than the islands and the life here is not the same.

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Comments on: "The Concrete Jungle Frozen Within" (8)

  1. Amanda Joy said:

    HOW BEAUTIFUL! I’m glad I followed you over! (-:

    • Thank you so much for following me here. I wanted to create a site that would allow anyone to express thier idea and inspiration. The children love writting here and I am so happy they write on this site and I can share their idea with everyone.

  2. Wow, I really love this part: “Towers stack people Up in the air Side by side On the bottom You listen As people walk on your head From above” … I love that you said “The brown barren remains Look you in the eye,” particularly in comparison to your newest poem in which you talk about how people won’t look you in the eye. Only the barrenness looks you in the eye. I really like this, Ann. … This part is so sad: “On the islands children are free but in the city children are forced to stay inside their homes and do not play on the street.”

    • For me the world outside should be enjoyed by the children. They should have the same chance we had growing up to play outside and know they are safe. it is sad that this world here will not allow this to happen. I love the children in Tahiti how free and safe they are. Parents do not worry to allow their children to go to the beach and swim. They are so free. There is no one to harm them on the islands. This I wish was the way it was around the world. I am so sad that America has changed so much. I wish it could go back the way it use to be. Where you did not have to worry about harm coming to anyone.

  3. There is no doubt we have imprisoned ourselves through a combination of fear based in reality and fear based on imagination. That is a powerful combination and one that is nearly impossible to overcome. Your poem expresses this quite well.

    • Thank you so much. I guess I am not use to locking doors and windows when I sleep. I have a home that is very open and we do not have locks on our doors and windows. Many of my windows are made from bamboo which lets the cool air in our home during the hotter summer months. I do not have to lock my home and be afraid to be there. I guess this is what I miss a lot. On our local news we do not have to hear about drive by shootings and childen disappearing. But here it seems that is all I ever hear. That is why I wrote this.

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