|Best Poems About / On CHICAGO
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.
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most of my friends who went to Chicago
on care giving jobs
finally left for good the marriage
they had in the Philippines,
just this morning i had a chat with a
close friend whose husband had her
declared presumptively dead in court
so he can marry another,
she says it's a trend
marriages are bound to be broken
vows have no meaning
she did not mind at all if she is
'dead' to him and to the law,
she too has a man of her own now
a work to attend to,
another summer vacation in California
and in Paris sometime
and then she enumerates other names
who marriages are
it is not that time is cruel, it is just that
with money now,
they are free to find love
(and lust) .
so long, i may meet other names.
RIC S. BASTASA
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Welcome To The Chicago Commercial Club
January 14, 1880
CHICAGO sounds rough to the maker of verse;
One comfort we have--Cincinnati sounds worse;
If we only were licensed to say Chicago!
But Worcester and Webster won't let us, you know.
No matter, we songsters must sing as we can;
We can make some nice couplets with Lake Michigan,
And what more resembles a nightingale's voice,
Than the oily trisyllable, sweet Illinois?
Your waters are fresh, while our harbor is salt,
But we know you can't help it--it is n't your fault;
Our city is old and your city is new,
But the railroad men tell us we're greener than you.
You have seen our gilt dome, and no doubt you've been told
That the orbs of the universe round it are rolled;
But I'll own it to you, and I ought to know best,
That this is n't quite true of all stars of the West.
You'll go to Mount Auburn,--we'll show you the track,--
And can stay there,--unless you prefer to come back;
And Bunker's tall shaft you can climb if you will,
But you'll puff like a paragraph praising a pill.
You must see--but you have seen--our old Faneuil Hall,
Our churches, our school-rooms, our sample-rooms, all;
And, perhaps, though the idiots must have their jokes,
You have found our good people much like other folks.
There are cities by rivers, by lakes, and by seas,
Each as full of itself as a cheese-mite of cheese;
And a city will brag as a game-cock will crow
Don't your cockerels at home--just a little, you know?
But we'll crow for you now--here's a health to the boys,
Men, maidens, and matrons of fair Illinois,
And the rainbow of friendship that arches its span
From the green of the sea to the blue Michigan!
Oliver Wendell Holmes
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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
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…
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