Poems About: CHICAGO

Mamie beat her head against the bars of a little Indiana town and dreamed of romance and big things off somewhere the way the railroad trains all ran.
She could see the smoke of the engines get lost down where the streaks of steel flashed in the sun and when the newspapers came in on the morning mail she knew there was a big Chicago far off, where all the trains ran.
She got tired of the barber shop boys and the post office chatter and the church gossip and the old pieces the band played on the Fourth of July and Decoration Day
And sobbed at her fate and beat her head against the bars and was going to kill herself read more »

They are parted by the ocean and he has not seen her for some while
And poor lovesick John feels lonely and he pines for Mary Doyle
And he never will forget her with blue eyes and raven hair
And he constantly dream of her she has got him in love's snare read more »

Millennium Park Cloud Gate
our cameras freeze a part
of the millennium for us read more »

Here in Chicago I sit
in the sun of an Indian Summer
high on the Water Tower waiting,
chapped hands in a visor read more »

Into the blue river hills
The red sun runners go
And the long sand changes
And to-day is a goner read more »

I watched the Chicago skyline
Become bright at the height of twilight
On a rooftop twenty-nine flights
I felt the daily fight read more »

Chicago train station, midst their porcelain tunnels
You would hear this young voice cry.
' Shine! ', 'Fifty cents! '
As daily commuters rushing home would pass on by. read more »

Chicago
this other
Paris read more »

Your violet eyes, your black hair flying in the wind. I glance out the window and see the highway we're on. I wonder when we'll get there. to the city I've choosen to stay for college.

You spoke to me, saying we'll be there soon. You hold my hand on the seat of your truck. The truck you'll be selling, for a motorcycle. i smile, remembering how excited he was when he told me. read more »

Chicago is a city that never sleeps
From parties to clubs to talk shows and make over’s
Wake up to the sound of a bird that peeps
To men that acts like a 4 leaf clover. read more »

Every evening,
up in my rooom,
I try to finish a poem
but Chicago is hot read more »

Blithe humour yearns for
Pridian vagaries before now,
Trusting the mooring of able
Ships on clear waters of read more »