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Poems On / About CHICAGO  5/30/2015 5:16:16 AM
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The Need For Drama

let us say, Goliath, finally realized that he
really loves Bathsheba who is now in Chicago finally taking care of the old woman.
Bathsheba sent the rumor that she is now living-in with somebody
and that is the end of their marriage.
Goliath isn't huge at the last, and Bathsheba isn' t that pure anyway.
They lead their own lives now.
As true individuals.

The journey of separate souls
is a big drama.
One does not really like it.
But this happens.

Crying, and then of course at the end,
one gets used to it.
Behind two kissing lips,
the sun rises after.

Read more poems from RIC S. BASTASA >>>



Walt Whitman

'Captain, our captain, '
We take your hand,
Find your footsteps on the streets
Of Chicago, New York, San Francisco.

Your spirit grows from the grassy fields,
Appearing on the horizon
As a light-beam signaling America
To remind her of her roots.

We follow the traces of light
Leading to forgotten springs;
We place our ears to the ground
To be near the leaves of grass and listen

With a desire to recognize our America,
And we wonder, do you know that you have strayed?
Dejan Stojanovic

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Was The War On The Battlefront?

Was the purpose of this battlefront
To embarrass to offend and to affront
This Queen with your rude and
Your offensive servant? !

All of my Queenly or Qkengly life
I have always struggled
And I have always strived
To avoid activity on the battlefield
In an attempt to avoid getting me killed!

The dangerous acts on the battlefront
That happen in Chicago's Fort Dearborn
Is not what I need! - It's not what I want!
Battlefield or battlefront
I hope to never ever have to haunt!
And I am indeed almost totally battle fatigued!
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Written By: Queen Royalty Patrenia Turner
QueenPatrenia Turner, Royalty Ph.d. Queen Of England

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My Feelings Of The Wrong And Innocent Part 1

I cry on a dark night.
In my room looking out the window
Nothing in sight,
Only my reflection out the window
As I cry.

I cry because I'm angry.
I see the boys in the street
With poor innocent ladies,
Scared to death, why?
As I cry.

47th street of Chicago filled with women
Trying to make a living.
They need guidence,
But who when all the women are gone
To takecare of their kids.
In my window I cry.
Paris.O Johnson

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Poems On / About CHICAGO