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Poems On / About CHICAGO  12/19/2014 9:06:40 AM
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Best Poems About / On CHICAGO
 
 
 
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  197.     

Aner Clute

Over and over they used to ask me,
While buying the wine or the beer,
In Peoria first, and later in Chicago,
Denver, Frisco, New York, wherever I lived,
How I happened to lead the life,
And what was the start of it.
Well, I told them a silk dress,
And a promise of marriage from a rich man --
(It was Lucius Atherton).
But that was not really it at all.
Suppose a boy steals an apple
From the tray at the grocery store,
And they all begin to call him a thief,
The editor, minister, judge, and all the people --
"A thief," "a thief," "a thief," wherever he goes.
And he can't get work, and he can't get bread
Without stealing it, why, the boy will steal.
It's the way the people regard the theft of the apple
That makes the boy what he is.
 
Edgar Lee Masters

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Read more: marriage poems, people poems, work poems, life poems
   
 

   
   
 

  198.     

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
   
 

   
   
 

  199.     

Yep, You Told Me

A plane crashed
Between Chicago and LA
It's all my fault
I didn't do the pre-check
I'm a bit shook-up

Oh Bea
You tried to warn me
You said, 'Young man,
This plane has got to crash
It don't have no pilot
It's running out of gas'
I said, 'Bea,
You just don't see
I'm flying this plane
And the gas will last'
But the engines started to putter
My mind began to flutter
As I held onto the wheel
If it had to smash
I'll die with it
That's the only thing I could see
Then I said,
'Wait a minute
what am I doing
I have to jump'

You know Bea
I'm an injured man
But I'm a living man
That's the way it should be
But the wounds will heal
Again I'll feel
And I don't know
Guess I'll have to see
 
Roger Harkness

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  200.     

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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Poems On / About CHICAGO