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Poems On / About CHICAGO  11/26/2014 8:57:45 AM
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1 Football game playing on Fox,
Has 1 quarter back with 2 balls, one clock
Against 22 balls running after
1 football running with a cock.
Can the team with the most gowl,
Take the 1 ball and win them all?
I don’t know,
But what a show
In the stadium at Chicago
70,000 nuts and all of them dicks,
Paid to freeze as popsicle sticks.
Half the audience is men with only 2 balls,
Saying can we make it to the Super Bowl?
Looks like I guess not,
Because all our balls shriveled up,
Green Bay really one us by a long shot!
By Christina Sunrise on Jan.23,2011
Christina Sunrise

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The Icarus Of Housewives, Circa 1981

From ashtrays he rises
when birds in backyards
have been fed their seed,
a dove amid the starlings.
In smoke filled stupor we stare.

Icarus climbs our stairs,
waves his muscled arms
in doorways mimicking
the starlings in stocking feet.
He feels his way blindly
down hallways, a whirlwind
of feathers trailing behind.

And one day like any other day,
bedroom windows open,
he is gone into the sun to
make his movements golden,
to steel his flight a monument
of silver in the sky over Cleveland,
over Chicago, the Dakota plains.

And we are still reeling.

Come back.
Come back, Icarus.
Plead our case to the sun
but do not fly too close.

And it is a day like any other day
we lose him to a solar flare.
All our litigation cannot raise him up again,
our curtains closed in protest to the sun.
Warren Falcon

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Poems Done On A Late Night Car


I am The Great White Way of the city:
When you ask what is my desire, I answer:
"Girls fresh as country wild flowers,
With young faces tired of the cows and barns,
Eager in their eyes as the dawn to find my mysteries,
Slender supple girls with shapely legs,
Lure in the arch of their little shoulders
And wisdom from the prairies to cry only softly at
the ashes of my mysteries."


Lines based on certain regrets that come with rumination
upon the painted faces of women on
North Clark Street, Chicago

Red roses,
In the rain and wind
Like mouths of women
Beaten by the fists of
Men using them.
O little roses
And broken leaves
And petal wisps:
You that so flung your crimson
To the sun
Only yesterday.


Here is a thing my heart wishes the world had more of:
I heard it in the air of one night when I listened
To a mother singing softly to a child restless and angry
in the darkness.
Carl Sandburg

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Read more: women poems, city poems, child poems, rain poems, mother poems, red poems, car poems, home poems, wind poems, sun poems, world poems, night poems, heart poems, flower poems, girl poems, woman poems, rose poems, children poems



Picnic Boat

Sunday night and the park policemen tell each other it
is dark as a stack of black cats on Lake Michigan.
A big picnic boat comes home to Chicago from the peach
farms of Saugatuck.
Hundreds of electric bulbs break the night's darkness, a
flock of red and yellow birds with wings at a standstill.
Running along the deck railings are festoons and leaping
in curves are loops of light from prow and stern
to the tall smokestacks.
Over the hoarse crunch of waves at my pier comes a
hoarse answer in the rhythmic oompa of the brasses
playing a Polish folk-song for the home-comers.
Carl Sandburg

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Read more: running poems, home poems, song poems, red poems, dark poems, night poems, light poems, cat poems
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Poems On / About CHICAGO