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Poems On / About CHICAGO  5/25/2016 5:42:37 PM
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To Mawe In Chicago This Winter

hello mawe, if you are stil there
alive and listening
if you still have the shadow of
autumn and spring
if you still stand there beside the glass
walls of malls
staring at the thick snow beyond you

mawe, my friend, please tell me

'what does the snow of chicago tell you? '

please tell me what is it
that still bothers
the calm waters of your heart?

merry christmas.
happy new year.

why are you more silent than the snow?

Read more poems from RIC S. BASTASA >>>



Black N White (Cloak N Dagger Poem)

I've always been a man who treasures black and white.
One either is still breating or one must be dead,
all cats are gray due to the colour of the darkest night
so black and white is king and that is what I said.

Be flexible said he whose bow was made of pine,
there came a point when nothing could extend it more,
the splinter took his eye, he fell into the vat of wine
his ship was lost at sea and never did return to shore.

A friend named Malcolm Williams, Nigger though to me
was quite ashamed of being black, me being white,
went through Chicago after curfew, it was hard to see
I figured it could be an asset to be dark without the light.
Herbert Nehrlich

Read more poems from Herbert Nehrlich >>>



You Were Born Bad Charlotte! You Were Born Bad! And You Will Die Bad!

the sun sets in the east
with it goes the warm embrace of love
the night brings no stars
most chicago nights seldom do

give me your word
before this windy city takes it
i long for my summer nights
a lovers embrace

but spring in this city holds no friend at all
the snow still comes
even with the sun staying up long

where is your summer
bring me your heat
i give you my heart

you hand me a receipt
Charlotte Ambrosia

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Sometimes In Rome

Cymbeline is set sometimes in Britain as well

I saw the play one Sunday set in Chicago
at the Shakespeare Theater on Navy Pier
and came away astonished and heartened
by actors who gave life to printed words

An obscure play that I last heard of in school
brought this viewer to listening closely
and marveling at Cymbeline and Belarius,
the wise Pisanio and the lovely Imogen

reflecting on the final lines of Act V -
'Never was a war did cease,
Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such a peace.'

Michael Pruchnicki

Read more poems from Michael Pruchnicki >>>
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Poems On / About CHICAGO