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Poems On / About CHICAGO  5/5/2016 8:46:32 PM
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Chicago Art Institute

They got these two big stone lions
fronting Michigan Avenue
in downtown Chicago

Inside are oil paintings
by Edward Hopper -
mostly city scenes
you know the kind I mean?
empty streets
lonely rooms
deserted buildings

There I was in one of those offices-
feet up on a battered desk
cigarette smoke curling up-
I'd already downed a slug
of good booze that burned its way down
lighting a blaze in my gut
the 38 Smith & Wesson snugged
in a shoulder holster.

Like Philip Marlowe the private eye
I too got big baby blues that kill the broads-
I'm always ready for a fight!
Michael Pruchnicki

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For You!

There comes
Moment like this
To the man
That makes him quiet
Collapsed forever
Without shaking
Anyone's hands
To say good-bye
And with the last
The eyes close
The most beautiful face
Gets cold
Without a smile
This is the end
Of your path
You are out
Of circulation This poem is dedicated to my friend,
Boguslawa Gladkowska, who suddenly died
in Chicago on June 9, 1997
Michelle Derzkowa

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Read more: june poems, sunshine poems, poem poems, beautiful poems, friend poems, smile poems



Why Do I Write Such Silly Stuff?

the wind blows my window
i'ts near time to go

across the cold alley way
the dried leaves blow

outside every one's looking at me
but, their eyes look down; afraid to talk

is it them or me, my sanity or vanity
that makes them balk!

it's a San Francisco wind
blowing in

blowing the leaves around
i wanted to travel

but i'm locked in Chicago
with the Alburquerque blues

with all i have to lose
with the whole world from to choose

i'm back in my room, alone
with the any where i'm at, i'm still the same blues!
francis e.rudy

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Going Home On The Train

The way home for me was eastbound
on the Northern Pacific from California
riding coach (pillow furnished for a fee)
and reading paperback books -

everything from Robinson Jeffers-
'...stones have stood for a thousand years,
and pained thoughts found the honey
of peace in old poems.'

'...poems direct as what the birds said,
hard as a floor, sound as a bench,
mysterious as the silence when the tailor
would pause with the needle in the air.'

including the obscure Ray Durem -
'...I cannot find those mild and gracious words
to clothe the carnage.'

I got off when the train reached Chicago-
an obscure soldier home from war.
Michael Pruchnicki

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Poems On / About CHICAGO