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Poems On / About CHICAGO  4/27/2015 5:29:37 AM
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For Pablo Picasso

I never can plumb the depths of your art
Nor fathom the gifts of your fallen heart;
I revere the skillful slither of you apt brush
And here pay homage to your pencil's dash.

Now queer man of fourteen names after saints and kin,
Let this rhyme titillate your somnolent spirit,
And your faded flair stir awake and keen,
To inspire your apprentices to attain your merit.

Awesome creator of the breathtaking Chicago Picasso,
That outlandish landmark that amazes so,
Yours countless nuggets of choice superior art;
Allow this humble poet your back to pat.

Almighty preserve your soul among the pure,
And may your treasured works forever endure.
Hannington Mumo

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When Love Becomes A Vehicle

Driving that blue Volvo
Parked strategically in a free spot
Escorting me through Chicago streets
Adept at the social nightlife scene

I was won over by one toss of the Frisbee
Because you set yourself apart immediately
Owning the room you only stayed briefly
I knew you understood how to have fun

While you have been the subject of other poems
I know in reality I never knew you
Sure admiring, wondering considering from afar
Your symbol remains a used blue Volvo

Now a mature, responsible adult
I would never play Frisbee when going out
Unless I was at a golf course
Alone with my daughter of course
Stephanie Eve Kane Arado

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Class Act

When I think of the term class act,
There's no one larger than Mr. T.
From the south side of Chicago,
When the streets were awfully mean.

He works with sick children everywhere.
And he gives to others in need.
Doing it without fanfare,
Each day are many good deeds.

He gives credit to the father,
The One Who sits on the throne.
It's only in movies he's angry,
As he hasn't a selfish bone.

If kids today need a hero,
He will never turn one away.
For he's a friend to all who need one,
He treats everyone this same way.
Robert Edgar Burns

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Bells From The Cathedral

How do you tell
a wife you love
there are Spring days
in raw Chicago
bright with sun
and the boom
of bells
from the Cathedral
how do you tell
a wife like that
there are Spring days
you wish you had a girl
Donal Mahoney

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Poems On / About CHICAGO