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Poems On / About CHICAGO  8/20/2014 9:21:45 PM
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Best Poems About / On CHICAGO
 
 
 
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  189.     

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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  190.     

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!
 
Connie Yost

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  191.     

Lady Goulds

Moving from Chicago to Missouri wasn't easy
but breeding Lady Goulds kept me sane
for many years- well, almost.

I was writing then to make a living.
All day I'd rearrange other people's words.
I needed Lady Goulds to look at

in the evening and most weekends.
Otherwise I might have married
some nice lady for the wrong reason.

Right now, a canary helps me dance
away the years or days or hours
I have to face before

I take on a cane or walker.
The canary calls the dawn with glee.
Lady Goulds, you see, don't sing.

They don't have to.
All they have to do is sit there
as if Mondrian painted them

or God lifted a pinkie on the 7th day.
The beauty of the Lady Gould,
some say, is the result of evolution.

There was no grand designer,
most scientists maintain.
The Lady Gould is one big accident

that happened eons ago.
I find it comforting to stare at them
and know otherwise.
 
Donal Mahoney

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  192.     

Ash Wednesday

I stood inside
a majestic cathedral
in the heart of Chicago.
The sun broke away
from the clouds
and the stain glass windows
of saints and martyrs gleamed.
The place was pack
with office workers,
mothers with children,
old people, young people
the homeless, the lost,
the dignitaries and hypocrites.
I stood among them,
the choir sang Ave Maria
before silence
greeted the Cardinal
as he limped towards
the marble podium,
he stretched his arms out
and we listened
to the Cardinal
proclaim without hesitation
what we wanted to forget
but he said it anyway,
'We will all be dead
in the next 70 years, '
A small child about four
turned to his mother
and said, 'not me '
still ashes to ashes
we will become
if not within 70 years
than maybe in 71
 
Charles Lara

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Read more: people poems, silence poems, children poems, child poems, mother poems, lost poems, sun poems
   
 
 
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Poems On / About CHICAGO