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Poems On / About CHICAGO  4/29/2016 7:05:27 AM
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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

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Our Nephew Thomas

Our nephew Thomas Duggan died at twenty three
And he is one I'll never meet or see
For he is one i never met before
And he is at rest now forever more
In distant Chicago in the U S A
From where i live a half a World away
His loss to his family time can only heal
My late brother John's son he has one brother Neil
I met his mother Nancy years ago
A lovely lady this for her a tragic blow
A devoted mother and to John a loving wife
She has a heavy cross to bear in life
He died in an accident in April of this year
Such sad news one would rather not to hear.
Francis Duggan

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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