I teach American Literature at Metro High School in St. Louis Public Schools. In a recent lesson, students analyzed Carl Sandburg’s “Chicago” and James Weldon Johnson’s “My City” to better understand the early 20th century city in addition to a number of literary focuses.
After reading the two poems, I tasked students with penning a poem of their own. Their aim was to capture the spirit of Sandburg’s poem by acknowledging the city’s faults while heralding their home’s strengths. In response, they crafted poems that were rugged and soft, dark and brilliant, critical and forgiving, ashamed and proud.
With permission from my students (some who gave permission preferred to remain anonymous), here is St. Louis through the eyes of some of our youth.
There’s More Than Meets The Arch
by Jelani Penny-Johnson
There’s More Than Meets the Arch.
But people stop at the entrance
and exclaim that it’s dark.
Rome of the West.
All they see are the retiarii v. secutores
and claim we’re a mess.
River City.
They only see the murky waters
and declaim pity.
O Saint Lou! His handsomeness is subtle but it’s supple.
Just look under the stubble.
His children effervescent like bubbles.
His children ever present, might stumble
but they never fall.
Standing tall, yet,
I arch my back for the City of Arches.
Archer Alexander, we’re the archetype for freedom.
But all they see is anarchy, confined in archaic binds.
We see the archives from the architects and poets,
the singers and heroics.
Linger on our history, and see there’s no mystery
of why we’re so proud of Missouri’s Mound City.
Every flaw makes the good more pretty.
I’m in awe. See the beauty in the cracks,
even when the hood seems gritty.
Legacy on our backs,
but we don’t want pity.
We’ll do what we do, we’re the Lou.
The Rome of the West, the Home of the Best.
Under stress, turn coal into diamonds.
The Midwest’s Star is still shining.
There’s More Than Meets the Arch,
just enter and find it.
The Key
by Elle Hamilton
The Forgotten Fly-Over city
Marked off as The Murder Capital of the USA
The Gateway to the West
But never the final destination
You’re a tourist attraction
A 5-day vacation of music and laughter
But when those 5 days are over
You’re called violent
Dangerous
Dirty
But of the people who live here:
We are more than the statistics show
to those who’ve forgotten our depth
our musicality and history
our individuality as a pocket
of noise
of laughter
of creativity
We stand on the sidewalks of soft neighborhoods
to loud bustling cities
full of bright neon lights and tall deep-rooted buildings
We hold the key to the gateway to the West
Marked under a brilliant arch
Silver Arch
by Lily Woodworth Wisdom
There’s a way the man shakes on this side of town,
Early in the morning in the still air,
I’ve heard it said that he is choking,
That this city is the harshest hand to ever hold your own,
And maybe it is, maybe it’s cold,
But this is the only dying that you do not have to save me from
I have to admit that I myself have had that yearning,
To go out East and have the ocean comb through my hair,
Or to go down South and feel the dry heat rise,
To travel light and sing the cowboy’s song,
But no matter where I stray, I always end up back home,
And to face the silver arch is like admitting I’ve been gone too long,
They say there’s too many people on your streets and I say there’s music on every street corner,
They say we’re sick with violence and I say yes but we were born to heal,
I’ve heard that we have nothing but I promise that we have enough,
Because the bond they instilled in us turns strangers into family,
They say it’s hard to live in The Gateway to the West, and sometimes that may be true,
But it’s here you taught me to love and I will always love you.
Treasure of the Midwest
by Xavier Holmes
Sanit Louis, my city
Treasure of the Midwest
The City with Open Arms
Many say you are crime-ridden
And strikingly dangerous
Though I believe you are a welcoming city
Warm and diverse
With historic beauties
And infinite places to feel at home
You are my city
Saint Louis
a far walk down delmar
by Vera Rosenblum
in the wake of crumbling brick, of plywood barricades, covering
broken glass.
of cots on streets, and cigarette
burns.
of an invisible line dividing opulence
and great elms from the neighborhoods
that can’t seem to mute the train
on its tracks.
in the wake of crumbling brick,
on the plywood barricades, they
have painted.
they have painted faces so familiar
and you can’t help but see this
house as a home and these bricks as
history.
O’ soothing St. Louis
by Zoe Thompson
My city, though a terror to outsiders
is a beauty to me
Some might call it
Scraggly, slimy, suspicious St. Louis
but I call it
Sensational, scenic, sassy, soothing…
St. Louis
O, St. Louis slinking away into the starless depths.
Come forth and be my salve in this shadowy world
Although scraggly it is strong
Although slimy it is sensational
Although suspicious it is scenic
O’ soothing St. Louis, My City!
My city Saint Louis
by Grace Fuchs
Saint Louis
Rumbling fans
Quiet businessmen
Hollering drunks
The city built on broken dreams of hopeless romantics: to you I say we are a rising phoenix.
You discuss the murder capital of the world: to you I say our people are loyal
You turn up your noses at our divide: to you we say at least we have diversity
No. You cannot tear us down,
Every mocking word out of your sneering mouths we yell back in hundreds, our backs turned against your slander.
Our dirty streets, and gunshots nightly but in the day we starve or thrive. Each piece slowly carving a way for themselves.
The gateway to the west, a broken door with two sides. The road less traveled we were not.
Our screams and yells at sports games, food filling our streets.
We are saint louis, the men who sell tickets on the streets.
We are saint louis, the artists writing stories and making food the world thrives on.
We are saint louis, each bumbling little person who no matter how much they claim they will never return to their so called hellhole, have a soft spot within their hearts for the place they called home.
My City
by Anonymous
my city by the river
you light up the sky at night
They tell me you are harsh
They call you the murder capital
They tell me you are brutal
And dangerous at night.
In my city I see different
My city is lively
My city is abstract
My city is artistic
They focus on the negative.
I see my city as acoustic
To me you are home
To me you are exuberant.
Who is she?
by Anonymous
Who is she?
Small but dangerous
Loud and violent
Her song of sirens and shouting
With all her diversity, also comes segregation
And separation
The harsh reality of hatred living among the folk.
But that’s only one side
The light shines brightest in the darkest of places
To many she is someone to be weary of
To many she is their home
Who is she
She is ST. Louis
Heart of St. Louis
by Amelia Ayulo
A city of culture
Her people working hard.
The grove, the loop, Cherokee, all at large.
The arch, the stadium, the chase, our cities heart.
In shambles! A wreck! The streets have bled.
Oh how cruel! Oh how defining! People cry out and weap.
The streets flow with blood but hold strong amidst the violence that spreads
Another shot, we choose to heal, another stone thrown, another person for whom we feel
A city with much heart, its soul being the people.
She is hurting, but also healing, hard at work to fix but never forget.
A city of triumph and opportunity, where creativity must spread
For if her creativity is withheld, what else is left?
Rumors
by Anonymous
St. Louis, a city holding its breath
I wish I could call you my own
Kinetic energy building indefinitely
I can hear it calling
Downtown, full of sound and light
and cars that scream
I wish I could know what you are saying
But instead I hear whispers
Rumors of a better tomorrow
Echoing through the streets
Growing City
by Jyel Hollingsworth
The faint whispers of envious slurs fill the air; “The Murder Capital,” they say
The Violent City
It escalates, louder
They speak to me and reflect upon their own; “We have it all. We have everything.”
It gives me hopelessness
The potent screams rupture my ears
It’s starting to become true to me; “It has nothing. It is nothing.”
The Boring City
They’re all saying it. They have it all.
We – are nothing.
Calm.
They – have nothing.
These desperate cries surround me with about the potency of water
I hear, but they make no sound
Screaming like a child will get you nowhere, I say
Now I scream – what city has the vibrancy, the arts, the life, the nature, the theatre of this city
Louis is growing like an untamed weed
All I hear now is the growth and potential of a city consumed with green
The Growing City
My dear City
by Abril Vazquez-Lopantzi
Saint Louis, My dear City
Blinking twinkling city lights
Visible across the muddy Mississippi river
Blind themselves from beauty
Saint Louis,
A blend of flavors which paint the city
The gateway to the west holds us under itself
Saint Louis,
No amount of crime will let
My love die
Oh, Saint Louis, my dearest city
STL is My City
by Leah Macon-Ford
St. Louis is not for the weak
It’s a hustle town
Show Me State
you might have grew up here
and call St. Louis home
But everybody’s goal is to get out
The sun may go up for 12 hours a day
but the night time is when STL comes alive
Call me HOME
Beautiful City
High arches are the heart of the city
Places where we come together –
unity
The place I know best
STL is My City
We might not claim other parts of Missouri
We might be murder capital Missouri
Crime City
Not known to many
Hate and negativity
But you can’t forget our
Rich history
how we CAN come together
The love for our neighborhoods
The memories through everyday life.
And the good that still thrives throughout the city
STL is My City
A city rooted in its past
by Anonymous
Saint Louis
The middle of the nation
The provider to the states
Gateway to the West
Bustling, Vibrant, Lively
A city teeming with life since the beginning of the nation
Charming, Majestic, Mystical
A city filled with people from anywhere and everywhere
Where new mixes with old
And where cultures are infused together
Old, Bitter, Out of Touch
A city basking in its former glory
Trying to remain relevant in the changing and ever evolving world
But I challenge you
Is that such a bad thing?
A city rooted in its past
Not quite afraid to acknowledge it
In this day and age
Is unheard of these days
The City’s Anchor
by Katrin Allen
Busy, and passionate
The streets always filled with busy bodies, just trying to grab their morning coffee
Architecture built with passion and love and care
Buildings filled with color and love of families that live within them
Her gates, an anchor for her city, grounding and humbling it
Bright and precise
The sun beams down on her every house, accentuating their figure
Every brick on her sidewalk was laid with care and accuracy
People say her houses are crumbling, too old and tired to stand up on their own
I say her houses hold character and tell stories of past generations and lifetimes
Amusing and tranquil
Children play on the grassy lands that make up her center, while parents watch and smile
The couples stand calm on her bridge and watch over the still, brown lake
The abundance of trees makes her all the more beautiful, every leaf crafted with care
And when they fall, they bring a new type of hope her inhabitants
Too uniform, too alike
They say, using their time to pick apart every flaw within her walls
Only we know, from friends and family who live here, every house has its own personality
Its own autonomy from the rest
Yet all the buildings seem to flow together in perfect harmony
Show Me City
by Ian Goold
St. Louis
The gateway to the west
The river city, defending the Show Me state
A grimy, dirty, dusty,
old, and divided city
But as the cars and trains shout
As the river flows, filling the city with soul
We can see the hidden rustic culture
We can see the belittling buildings
that cover the city with their distinct shadows
We can see the streets singing with history and music
We can see the towering Arch
Waving goodbye as we leave and welcoming us when we return
Celebrating the complexity of this city is the only way to see
What it actually “Shows”
My City: St. Louis
by Anonymous
City of the Arch
Of the bustling markets and busy streets
Of billboard advertisements and revving engines
Of struggles and obstacles
You are run-down and weary
Yet these old-fashioned structures
They are home to memories and the history of generations
You are impecunious and indigent
Your people deprived, disadvantaged
Yet have you seen such perseverance and persistence?
This loud, stuffy town: St. Louis
This familiar city of mine: St. Louis
Pulling toward fate
By Anonymous
Brick city, the city of licks
A city of hard knocks and charmed walks
Where vacant dwellings spill despair
And smokestacks billow dreams
Where fatal cats, they feign no care
But under masks, they gasp for air
They tell me that you’ve lost your shine
Crime ridden, your people in bread lines
And so I grit my teeth with furrowed brow
Fists to fight a birthright of this town
Come! Show me another city that knows the worth of love
Another city that holds its history up
Another city that sings to the stars at night
In that melodious Blues tune that knows pain and hope alike
Dreaming
Helping
Making
Pulling toward fate like greyhounds in the slips
Daring the world to test your mettle
An underdog bruised, but not at your peak
Brute but with a chess master’s mind so sharp
Blood running thick like the Great Rivers, vibrant with life and eternal as your hope
Brick city, the city of licks
A city of hard knocks and charmed walks
Where vacant dwellings spill despair
And smokestacks billow dreams