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Poems On / About CHICAGO  10/22/2014 8:46:39 AM
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  189.     

##38 (Vivekananda) Arrival at Chicago

Swami Vivekananda’s train
Reached Chicago Station
Late in the evening time.
None came to receive him.

He had lost the address
Of the head of delegates,
And there was no one
To give him information.

In that strange foreign land,
None gave a helping hand.
As his dress appeared peculiar,
They took him as a wanderer.

On the sidewalk, he sat.
A lady saw his pitiable plight
Gave him food and shelter,
As her guest of honor.

Mrs. George W. Hale was
That kind lady, his hostess,
Who took him to the Office
Of Parliament of Religions.

Dr. J.H. Barrows was
One of her friends.
As well as the President
Of that Parliament.

The President invited him
To represent Hinduism
And he was then free from
The admission problem

Both the kind hearted families
Of Hale and John B Lyons
Became his lifelong friends
And he stayed in their house.

It was the mercy of God
That, in fact, guided
This well deserving soul,
For his ‘ever-sincere’ role.

Amidst all his difficulties
There came many helpers
As if it was pre-planned
Always by the will of God.
 
Rajaram Ramachandran

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  190.     

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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  191.     

Poor Humor

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.
 
Lonnie Hicks

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  192.     

Snowy Owl - Lincoln Park Zoo

Call me one happy snowy owl,
Outside at the Lincoln Park Zoo,
As arctic sub zero winds howl,
Freezing Chicago through and through.
Perched on high in my habitat,
Warm in my snowy feathered cloak.
The lack of humans, I muse that
'Tis time for how cold is it joke.
'Too cold, too cold, ' humans complain.
'It is so cold, ' humans do shout.
And these words form an icy chain.
Each such complaint must be thawed out.

Come visit me when super cold.
Stop complaining - be super bold.
 
Ima Ryma

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