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Poems On / About CHICAGO  1/27/2015 7:21:51 PM
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Best Poems About / On CHICAGO
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Vivekananda And His Voice To The Mankind,

The Parliament of Religions,
Chicago, -1893, world’s representations,
From inherited wells,
Ready to ring own bells.

‘Sisters and brothers’
From vast Unconscious,
A voice vibrant flashes.

‘You are all assured immortals,
Radiant souls in body’s walls.
Rise and wake from slumber,
Add fire to emit your amber’

Silence, turns to pin-dropp or more,
The hearts started opening new door.
Stillness’ tranquility, to quantum-nucleus,
Liquid –luminous, beacon-focus.

You are born lion and lioness,
Lend your ear, lend me please.

Once in a lambs’ herd a lion had its truck,
A lion there in, was running to save attack.
Its mother died during giving birth,
The lambs fostered it since it came on earth.

It grew up on lamb’s habits,
It forgot its glory, and turned a rabbit.
Ray Subrata Ray

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One Old Gigolo Counsels Another

You take care now, Harold,
and don't slip on the ice
looking for a good bookstore
on the streets of Chicago.

Print is dead, Harold,
and it's being waked
in empty bookstores.
Soon all bookstores

will be dead, Harold,
and then you will have
no good reason
to go out on the ice.

At our age, Harold,
ice can be lethal
so take my advice
and do as I do:

Walk head down
even if there's no ice
so you can avoid
not only the ice

but also the women
disgruntled with men.
Believe me, Harold,
they're out there

armed with bumbershoots.
They prowl the streets now
more than when we were
young and dashing

and making them angry.
They haven't forgotten us.
So for God's sake, Harold,
go out for a walk but

bundle up and take your cane
and walk with your head down.
Do you believe in God, Harold?
I hope you do because

at our age, Harold, ice or a
woman could be the chariot
that takes us over the moon
faster than we'd like.
Donal Mahoney

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Evening, Just Before Twilight

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
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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The Skinny On Fatty's Cafe

Here's the skinny on Fatty's Cafe,
a grubby diner on a snaky street
under the El in dark Chicago
where street lights flicker
and the hungry descend from
the flophouse above the store.

If you have a yen for a BLT
and Fatty is workin' the grill,
the hungry say don't go in,
be patient and wait outside
for Fatty's brother, Skinny,
to wield the spatula.

Skinny has a way with BLTs,
piling bacon and tomato high
on a triple decker, with a hint
of lettuce and a swipe of mayo
on all three slices of bread.
No extra charge to toast it
when Skinny's workin' the grill.

Ignore the rain, sleet or snow
and wait outside with the hungry
till Skinny starts flippin' the bacon.
He takes over at midnight when
Fatty flops into his Lincoln
and heads for his castle.
Then Skinny lays out the bacon
and the hungry outside march in.
Donal Mahoney

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Poems On / About CHICAGO