IMAGE OF EARTH AND QUILL

Guest Poet Shelley Race



Steel Jungle

As I walk through the steel jungle each day
my body echoes its assiduous beat.
I find myself surrounded by towering trees
of granite and glass that resonate and inspire.
The discordant sounds of honking, jackhammers, 
and the rumble of engines form an abnormal harmony.
The rush of the traffic, trains, and people
build the rhythm to a rapturous high in my veins.
Though dangers lurk hidden in the steel
jungle I show no fear, for its heart pounds loudly 
to keep the beasts at bay.
It's in the night-time, when the steel jungle
sleeps, that I must hide from the beasts.
I then dare to scale those towering granite trees 
to my safe nest in the canopy above. 
And I lay there dreaming of daybreak when
the steel jungle will once again awaken me
with its powerful beat.


June, 1999


Shelley Race's Questions:

Is the verse, "It's in the night-time, when the steel jungle sleeps, that I must hide from the beasts" awkward? Should it be reworded?

Am I getting the excitement and rush of the city across to those that aren't used to being in the city?  Should I take more time to describe life in the city?






The Albany Poetry Workshop