|Best Poems About / On CHICAGO
Yep, You Told Me
A plane crashed
Between Chicago and LA
It's all my fault
I didn't do the pre-check
I'm a bit shook-up
You tried to warn me
You said, 'Young man,
This plane has got to crash
It don't have no pilot
It's running out of gas'
I said, 'Bea,
You just don't see
I'm flying this plane
And the gas will last'
But the engines started to putter
My mind began to flutter
As I held onto the wheel
If it had to smash
I'll die with it
That's the only thing I could see
Then I said,
'Wait a minute
what am I doing
I have to jump'
You know Bea
I'm an injured man
But I'm a living man
That's the way it should be
But the wounds will heal
Again I'll feel
And I don't know
Guess I'll have to see
Read more poems from Roger Harkness >>>
Humor Relating to Being Poor- Chicago Style
We were so poor that eating out in winter was snowball sandwiches
We were so poor we had possum slices in our lunch-pails.
We were so poor that the mice brought us cheese.
We were so poor we ate air sandwiches every night.
We were so poor that we had sliced bean sandwiches, just one bean
We were so poor we had dirt on stick in our lunch-pails.
We were so poor we that the coal in our stocking at Christmas was a snack
We were so poor that when a fly flew in our mouth, we swallowed.
We were so poor, we made sauces out of our own spit.
We were so poor we thought airplanes were UFO's
We were so poor in our family that DNA tests didn't work
We were so poor we would take turns licking the spoons
We were so poor we took turns resting in the oven for heat.
We were so poor that people had only four fingers when they tried to stuff themselves on the last bean left.
We were so poor that my sisters hid bread in their hair for later.
We were so poor that finger-licking good was real without the chicken
We were so poor that every night we had mayonaise sandwiches
We were so poor that we had rabbit paw for dessert.
We were so poor we evicted praire dogs from their burrows for the extra space.
We were so poor that the wolves brought us sheep
We were so poor that we sucked the leather off baseball gloves
We were so poor that every morning we had sugar sandwiches for breakfast.
We were so poor that friends took the shirts off their backs and we made snacks of them
We were so poor that the church mice took up collections for us
We were so poor we ate the apple page in Genesis.
We were so poor we put a little salt on the apple iphone and munched.
We were so poor we caught bees, ate them, and hoped for honey
We were so poor the cows ran away
We were were so poor that the termites in our house were on welfare.
We were so poor that in winter going out to eat was slush balls and snowmen.
Read more poems from Lonnie Hicks >>>
Welcome To The Chicago Commercial Club
January 14, 1880
CHICAGO sounds rough to the maker of verse;
One comfort we have--Cincinnati sounds worse;
If we only were licensed to say Chicago!
But Worcester and Webster won't let us, you know.
No matter, we songsters must sing as we can;
We can make some nice couplets with Lake Michigan,
And what more resembles a nightingale's voice,
Than the oily trisyllable, sweet Illinois?
Your waters are fresh, while our harbor is salt,
But we know you can't help it--it is n't your fault;
Our city is old and your city is new,
But the railroad men tell us we're greener than you.
You have seen our gilt dome, and no doubt you've been told
That the orbs of the universe round it are rolled;
But I'll own it to you, and I ought to know best,
That this is n't quite true of all stars of the West.
You'll go to Mount Auburn,--we'll show you the track,--
And can stay there,--unless you prefer to come back;
And Bunker's tall shaft you can climb if you will,
But you'll puff like a paragraph praising a pill.
You must see--but you have seen--our old Faneuil Hall,
Our churches, our school-rooms, our sample-rooms, all;
And, perhaps, though the idiots must have their jokes,
You have found our good people much like other folks.
There are cities by rivers, by lakes, and by seas,
Each as full of itself as a cheese-mite of cheese;
And a city will brag as a game-cock will crow
Don't your cockerels at home--just a little, you know?
But we'll crow for you now--here's a health to the boys,
Men, maidens, and matrons of fair Illinois,
And the rainbow of friendship that arches its span
From the green of the sea to the blue Michigan!
Oliver Wendell Holmes
Read more poems from Oliver Wendell Holmes >>>
Oh, The Hats
The cities, oh, the cities,
Chicago, New York and St. Lou,
Sacramento to Pittsburg to Boston,
Upward and outward they grew.
The shoes, oh, the shoes,
The pairs had no left and no right!
Clumping in streets of wet clay and mud,
I shudder, appraising their plight!
The hems, oh, the hems,
Of multiple ankle-length skirts!
And oh, those cantankerous corsets,
Resolutely drawn in till it hurts!
The wool, oh, the wool,
Some folks would have never survived.
Though itchy and scratchy and rough,
It kept many adventures alive!
But the hats, oh, the hats,
On peacock feathers they splurged!
When pheasants and quails donated their tails,
The ladies all fluttered like birds!
Read more poems from Connie Yost >>>