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Poems On / About CHICAGO  11/23/2014 4:48:24 AM
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  189.     

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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  190.     

Rocky Raccoon-ish

Now somewhere in the black mountain hills of chicago
There lived a young boy named rocky raccoon…….(The Beatles)


Road Kill was all I wanted to have my tantalizing taste buds taste,
Raccoon, all the raccoons seemed to die waste,
Along Farm Rd.275 North or I-75 or I-94 or Highway 11,
To the gamey diner raccoon is like chicken but more it’s heaven.
Alice’s brother said to me “Didn’t you eat ‘coon before? ”
I replied “They don’t prepare the ‘coon in Hamtramck.”
But in Michigan, downriver from Detroit, they serve muskrat.
Muskrats and raccoons they’re all road kill,
I thought about and stated we eat lobster, shrimp and crab.
Which are the cockroaches and spiders of sea,
So why not, have some road kill,
you may find out that is your cup of tea.
So is the Captain and Tennille going for this delicacy?

(1-21-2008)
 
Joe Rosochacki

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  191.     

Lindsay Okray

This poem was written for someone very special to me, who recently received her Masters Degree from Loyola University, Chicago, IL:


We all a certain someone have,
One whom illuminates our lives.
Tis one whose presence is a salve,
Whose heart on goodness thrives.

This one of whom I mention here,
Has always been a dear,
Her heart is full of love and cheer;
Her eyes and smile, sincere.

She sparkled as an infant so,
Not knowing of her gift.
As each year passed, her radiant glow
Brought to us such a lift!

This girl, this woman, cousin of mine,
Of whom I am so proud!
Has nobly chosen a path so fine!
Aiding others, she has vowed.

Love always,
Juice
 
Janice McCann

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  192.     

Evening, Just Before Twilight

Evening,
forty miles west of Chicago,
in a frozen field.
Snow spirits appear and disappear
as the North Wind howls
at the winter moon.
I light a cigar
and wish for a shot of tequila,
wish it were summer,
and I was pulling up
to the Baptist Mission in Texas
where my old man spoke the word
and the choir sang,
when I believed in tongues,
in heavenly utterances,
and the Holy Ghost was immense power
seething within,
and you the sacred vessel
I poured myself into.

My thoughts are of a time
when wind surfed the treetops
and apple blossoms swirled down
on an insouciant world and covered two beings
in its mystical cloak,
when I pressed you against earth
as it spun and traveled
around a star that moved
through space and time
to a point
that exalted you
and love
sacrificed self.

I wrap myself in a season
when I walked into the hullabaloo
of a day,
into the bell
of a lost Sunday,
when tulips were a lover's bed
and wild violets were a bouquet
arranged for you.
I remember a ruckus,
a riot
in my heart,
a hooligan love,
a rapture.

I recall
a time
as the North Wind howls
at the winter moon,
and the Big Dipper pours
twilight
into evening sky -

my thoughts are of you
as I follow the North Star home,
a thousand stars
lighting the way.
 
Esteban Arellano

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