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Poems On / About CHICAGO  1/27/2015 10:12:56 PM
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Best Poems About / On CHICAGO
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Go for a Walk

Nik Wallenda, King of the Wire,
Chose Chicago to take a walk
'Twixt and 'tween the twin corncob spire,
Marina Towers. Wind would knock
Against big shoulders daring to
Keep balance 'cross a hundred feet,
Hundreds of feet below in view
Of one misstep and death to meet.
A massive audience watched live,
The city and the world held breath.
Would or would not the will survive?
Nik once more walked away from death.

A first awesome sight to behold,
Walking the wire with a blindfold.
Ima Ryma

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A Power-Plant

The Fisk Street turbine power station in Chicago

The invisible wheels go softly round and round—
Light is the tread of brazen-footed Power.
Spirits of air, caged in the iron tower,
Sing as they labor with a purring sound.
The abysmal fires, grated and chained and bound,
Burn white and still, in swift obedience cower;
While far and wide the myriad lamps, aflower,
Glow like star-gardens and the night confound.
This we have done for thee, almighty Lord;
Yea, even as they who built at thy command
The pillared temple, or in marble made
Thine image, or who sang thy deathless word.
We take the weapons of thy dread right hand,
And wield them in thy service unafraid.
Harriet Monroe

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In Search Of Americans

In search of Americans!

There was a new comer in our town, a noisy suburb of Chicago,
With planes above, and four wheels below,
Not mentioning railroad tracks and
The trains passing by day and night, too fast or too slow!

The newcomer moved next door, to 1434 Main street, to the old lady's,
Mrs. Fodyle's place, an old red brick bungalow from the thirties.
I guess he must have seen the 'Rooms for Rent' sign in the front window!

First time, when I laid eyes on him, I got a strange feeling, a bittersweet feeling,
As if I knew him, had seen him before..., a long time ago...
A thirtyish, rather tall and thin young fellow,
Wearing an old farmer's hat, odd to see nowadays
And his jacket which had seen better days!
Just the way he was dressed,
The way he walked...,
And his beat up dusty
GMC filled up with his worldly possessions blocking the car's windows...

It took me a while..., I was sure, I had seen him before..., but where...?
Yes! Indeed: 'Tom Joad' from the Grapes of Wrath...!
He did bare an uncanny resemblance to him! Just like an apple cut in half
Who was he? What was he doing in our neck of the woods? !

His name was Ivan, an ιmigrι from the Eastern Europe
Had lived a couple of years in Philadelphia,
Had been conned by the scam artists there
It seemed he was running away from them, or from something,
Maybe looking for a place to settle down?

One day, early in the morning of a warm July day,
I noticed the newcomer, Ivan, after a few weeks, was leaving Mrs. Fodyl's place for good.
He approached me and asked me (in his thick accent) like a confused little kid:
'Mr. Joe! Where are Americans? !
At work, in the factory, it seems everyone speaks Spanish, I guess they are Mexicans.
At school, it seems they are all Asians, Indians, koreans, Pakistanis, ..., even the only movie house
in town is owned by them, they are playing Asian movies...
Mr. Joe! where do you suppose Americans are! ? '

I hadn't quite come up with an answer, Ivan, the newcomer, hastily added:
'I am on my way to Minnesota, then to Oregon...,
I am sure I am going to meet Americans there...
Goodbye Mr. Joe! '

Then, he got in his old beat up GMC and drove away...
I yelled: 'Ivan! Wait a minute! You asked me a question!
I have to answer you! Ivan! '

Then, again! I really didn't have an answer...
Ivan had to find out for himself!
Joe Sadeghloo

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My Favorite Things (Manly Version) for Christmas

Chicago style pizza and microwave nachos
Tales of adventure with monsters and heroes
Balsa wood gliders with unbroken wings
These are a few of my favorite things

A finely tuned engine, a new set of tires
A full set of wrenches and channel lock pliers
Football in autumn and baseball in spring
These are a few of my favorite things

Girls in tight sweaters with long brunette tresses
A dog who will fetch and not make big messes
A cold frosty beer after mowing the lawn,
These are the things I can think fondly on

When the boss yells, when a bone breaks
When I’m feeling sad, I simply remember
My favorite things and then I don’t feel
So bad!

© 2006
Jeffrey Stultz

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Poems On / About CHICAGO