En.Citatepedia^®.ro

In the days and months I spent walking through the various communities of this city, I found that Chicago did not work for everyone, however.

quote by Jane Byrne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chicago Samba

I live in chicago
A very windy city
But tonight I will dance the Chicago samba
Once again
But when I dance the chicago blues
I sweat like crazy
And I feel like a kid again
But when I hear the chicago samba being played by the local musiciams
In the streets of chicago I get very excited
Because I know that their music cam be heard also from faraway
And bring me back memories of home

poem by Aldo Kraas
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The last copy of the Chicago Daily News I picked up had three crime stories on its front page. But by comparison to the gaudy days, this is small-time stuff. Chicago is as full of crooks as a saw with teeth, but the era when they ruled the city is gone forever.

quote by John Gunther
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I've always wanted to do theater in Chicago. Chicago is a big theater town-and, in some ways, I think this city is savvier and smarter than New York. Sometimes, I think it's a little too chic to go to theater in New York these days.

quote by Jeffrey Donovan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Around the corner

I wont tell you the stories he has told me,
or the reason why for weeks and months
he couldn't sleep.
About the walk around the corner,
he kept walking round that corner,
walking round that corner
for days and months and weeks.
That isn't my story to tell you, only his;
but I can tell you that he walks around
that corner through his days
and through his weeks.
I can tell you that he marched them home
leading from the front,
right down through the Guildhall
to the sound of thudding drum.
I can tell you that he marched all those
young boys home.
All of them, but one.

poem by Diana Rosser
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My first day in Chicago, September 4, 1983. I set foot in this city, and just walking down the street, it was like roots, like the motherland. I knew I belonged here.

quote by Oprah Winfrey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Kind Of Town

My kind of town, Chicago is
My kind of town, Chicago is
My kind of people too
People who,smile at you
And each time I leave, Chicago is
Tugging my sleave, Chicago is
One town that won't let you down
It's my kind of town
My kind of town, Chicago is
My kind of town, Chicago is
My kind of razzmatazz
And it has, all that jazz
And each time I rome, Chicago is
Calling me home, Chicago is
One town that won't let you down
It's my kind of town
Chicago is
The Wrigley Building, Chicago is
The Union stock yard, Chicago is
One town that won't let you down
It's my
My kind of town

song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Great Chicago Fire

The great Chicago Fire, friends,
Will never be forgot;
In the history of Chicago
It will remain a darken spot.
It was a dreadful horrid sight
To see that City in flames;
But no human aid could save it,
For all skill was tried in vain.

In the year of 1871,
In October on the 8th,
The people in that City, then
Was full of life, and great.
Less than four days it lay in ruins,
That garden City, so great
Lay smouldering in ashes,
In a sad and pitiful state.

It was a sad, sad scene indeed,
To see the fire arise,
And hear the crackling of the flames
As it almost reached the skies,
And sadder still, to hear the moans,
Of people in the flames
Cry for help, and none could get,
Ah, die where they remained.

To see the people run for life;
Up and down the blazing streets,
To find then, their escape cut off
By the fiery flaming sheets,
And others hunting for some friend
That perhaps they never found,
Such weeping, wailing, never was known,
For a thousands miles around.

Some people were very wealthy
On the morning of the 10th.
But at the close of the evening,
Was poor, but felt content,
Glad to escape from harm with life
With friends they loved so well,
Some will try to gain more wisdom,
By the sad sight they beheld.

Five thousand people were homeless,
Sad wanderers in the streets,
With no shelter to cover them,
And no food had they to eat.
They wandered down by the lake side,
Lay down on the cold damp ground,
So tired and weary and homeless,
So the rich, the poor, was found.

Mothers with dear little infants,
Some clinging to the breast.
People of every description
All laid down there to rest,
With the sky as their covering,
Ah, pillows they had none.
Sad, oh sad, it must have been,
For those poor homeless ones.

Neighboring Cities sent comfort,
To the poor lone helpless ones,
And God will not forget them
In all the years to come.
Now the City of Chicago
Is built up anew once more,
And may it never be visited
With such a great fire no more.

poem by Julia A Moore
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I Don't Wanna Work

Well i give it little care
Does anybody out there even know
I'm in here?
I just keep my movement going
Somewhere
Like playing in the background baby
Like playing in the background baby
I play the game
You play the way that most men would choose
I'm surprised at you
Way back in the middle of a broken down love affair
You and i found each other
And we fell in love
I ain't never met a man and woman get along better
Than you and i when get together
Still i say
I don't wanna work that hard
I don't wanna work that hard
Don't wanna work that hard
I don't wanna work that hard
Don't wanna work that hard
I don't wanna work that hard
Not if it makes me cry
No no
See the lady walking down the street
She's got on high heel shoes
And her hair full of curlers
She's got stiletto nails
And some black mascara
She's got a push up and a pick up
I tell you that girl's working overtime
I don't wanna work that hard
I don't wanna work that hard
I don't wanna work that hard
Don't wanna work that hard
I don't wanna work that hard
Not if it makes me cry
No no no no no no
I don't wanna work
I don't wanna work that hard
I don't wanna work it if makes me cry
Spent last night
Talking to myself in bed
Wondering why i do this over
Over and over again
I don't know
I, i, i, i don't wanna work that hard
I don't wanna work that hard
Not when it makes me cry
I don't wanna work that hard
I don't wanna work not that hard
I don't wanna work it it makes me cry
I don't wanna work that hard
I don't wanna work not that hard
I don't wanna work if it makes me cry

song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To My dear MOTHER.

AN Ode to My Mother
Days of uneaten food, unclosed eyelid,
Months that weighed heavily your mid,
Hours you spent labouring for breath,
Moments of unbearable pain that brought me to earth,
Can I ever repay you for giving me birth?

Months you spent teaching me to eat,
Guiding me lovingly to stand on my feet,
Beauteous smile lit your lovely face,
On my small triumphs in early days.
The pain in your eyes and unshed tears,
Echoed my trials and untold fears.
Your comforting hands embraced me night and day,
To alleviate my pains and keep my worries at bay.
Boundless love, You shower, even today,
Mother, how, oh, how will I ever repay?

poem by Rama Muthukrishnan
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Chicago Sestina

I am surprised by the streets of Chicago
when the palm of winter grips them with snow
as if to forgive the city’s mistakes
and give it a canvas that’s new, white, and clean–
its fingers, the branches on all of the trees
kneading the air that blows in from the lake.

I’ve never lived next to the pulse of the lake
(until I set foot down the side of Chicago)
breathing in through the streets and out through the trees
welcoming the cool of the wet, numbing snow.
It lets my mind slip into thinking it’s clean
as if to personally forgive my mistakes.

“But what have you done to forgive your mistakes? ”
Did I ask this? Or is that the voice of the lake?
Some days, not even does it appear clean,
worn down from its tall standing neighbor, Chicago.
It scrapes at the sky, asking it for more snow
to stick to and freeze the trunks of the trees.

If I were a branch on one of these trees
incapable of making a single mistake,
I’d grab at the sky as it shook out the snow
and grow my roots thick till they tasted the lake.
But I wouldn’t bend to the force of Chicago
that’s constantly keeping me from being clean.

And what does it mean to try to be clean?
I don’t understand the stillness of the trees
when they’re being attacked by the size of Chicago
as if to glorify the city’s mistakes
that glisten like stars at night on the lake
before it all froze and was covered with snow.

Ah! To imagine how long there’s been snow.
How can something this old still feel so clean
and dance through the wind that swoops in from the lake?
Is it the kneading by the spiny branches on trees
trusting that there will be no more mistakes
that leaves these the only pure thing in Chicago?

Here comes the snow that seeks out the trees
Am I now clean? Where are my mistakes?
Chicago belongs where it lay with the lake.

poem by Brian Maloney
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I have a place in Chicago and I get there as much as I can. The city is so unbelievably beautiful. It's one of the greatest cities on the planet. My heart beats differently when I'm in Chicago. It slows down and I feel more at ease.

quote by Jeremy Piven
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Pretty, Pretty City

Now the city has a studded nose,
Because the city is so pretty, and the city knows:
The city, she almost fooled me underneath the
Chicken sky- The city is so pretty,
But the city lie:
I loved the city and all its vermilion moods and ice-creams,
With parks and busses and city airplanes
And city rides- City coffins and city dies;
And I watched the city get drunk and turn around
And raise its monuments and party down;
And I sat upon one of her benches in a speculating mood,
And wondered if the city was so pretty,
Why was she so rude: The vulgar nebulas of the city’s
Eyes, the narcissisms of its displays:
There are so many well suited boys better than I out walking
In their sunny city days:
And I realized, the city didn’t love me,
The city plays and paws and eats up little boys such as
Me- She said she loves her little poet boys, such as me,
But the sweet, sweet city lies,
Because the city is so pretty, studded nosed and stunning eyed,
But she uses her autumn facades to blind the autumn chicken skies-
The pretty, pretty city has me hypnotized,
But the pretty, pretty city lies.

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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New York Poems: Reaction

There’s so much movement,
but its all confusion I say
There’s height but where's the depth,
Is it wearing a mask?
It seems as if I’m here to find it,
I walked onto the street and felt the need...
not need..
The want!

To write down the words of this city,
It called out that it could express itself.
Sandburg found the positive of Chicago
But there is more to positive then,
Efficiency and grandeur

The buildings,
Physicals, aesthetic and their gimmicks
The city has a soul as a whole
H-O-L-E
NYC isn’t empty!
What is left in these hearts?
There is no room for a heart,
yet it's relaxed

Is no one connected?
Is no one complete?
Is no one complacent?
What does that word mean?
The city... what is it?

It is a fishbowl,
To say the least.

poem by Chris Osterbrock
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Finding Chicago

I wanted to write poetry like Carl Sandburg.
I wanted to write about big cities and small towns,
about open prairies and rivers in the sky.
I wanted to write about the people:
plumbers, politicians, poets,
but I’d never been east of Tucson.
So I quit my dead end job,
closed out my savings account, all 600 dollars,
and went to Chicago in search of a poem.

Chicago—City of the Big Shoulders, wrote Sandburg.
But I couldn’t find it.
I found Chicago falling down around an old black man
leaning on his battered bass case, the way you lean
on a friend when you’re in need. And Thomas Jefferson
Brown was a man in need, shoulders sagging under
the weight of six decades of back alley blues bars
and his thirst for blended whiskey.

Chicago—Player with Railroads and the Nation’s Freight Handler,
wrote Sandburg.
But I couldn’t find it.
I found Chicago in a rusted heap of railroad cars, twisted
tracks and 55 gallon drums where bums built their fires.
Factories and warehouses empty, workers sitting in nearby
bars drinking beer, expecting checks at the end of the week.

Chicago—Stormy, husky, brawling, wrote Sandburg.
But I couldn’t find it.
I found Chicago shimmering in the shadows of towering
concrete, steel and glass along 32nd Street, poets reading
in bookstores and coffee houses, children marching
to museums, women with slim hips in black silk gowns,
men in tuxedos and Italian shoes, dressed for the theater.

I wanted to write poetry like Sandburg.
But I couldn’t find his Chicago.

poem by Clifton King
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I'm impressed with the people from Chicago. Hollywood is hype, New York is talk, Chicago is work.

quote by Michael Douglas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chicago Fire

On October 8th at 9 pm a fire flared from O’Leary’s farm,
In the city of Chicago, fires from hell raged at 9: 40 am when someone pulled the alarm,
Firefighters were sent out to the left when the fires flared to the right,
One flame caught onto another where screams were heard from fright,
The fires spread to houses and sheds from superheated winds,
Winds so powerful it burned through human skin,
From the West of the Chicago River it burned down the local church,
The house of God lit up in flames that in rapid pace flared and lurched,
Until it swarmed southbound to the branch of the river,
Reality was hell on earth the devastation it delivered,
With firewood packed closely next to wooden buildings the storm never calmed,
From Sunday night through Monday morning hell raged fury in napalm,
The flame got bigger and spread across the land,
While the city burned hundreds fell into the fire that ran,
A catastrophe that will forever scar Chicago land,
Fires that grabbed hundreds of innocent lives from hells hand,
Embers from the fire flooded the city streets,
Burned down buildings, houses, and the grounds beneath,
Hell on Earth the fires burned everything in sight,
The sky burned above fires that lit the night,
Firefighters tried to wash it away but couldn’t,
A natural disaster from hell that could cease but wouldn’t,
For two days the Chicago land was lit in flames,
The Great Chicago fire that destroyed the city and took names,
It was until later Monday night that drizzles from the tears in sky calmed the storm,
The beautiful Chicago city to destruction and ruin was the aftermath of transform,
The causalities claimed about 300 lives,
Where fires caught the 300 in a natural disaster comprised,
Never will Chicago forget the flames the scourged the land,
A false tale of a cow kicking over a lantern from the barn that was a scam,
The lives that ate the superheated winds when they ran,
Never will Chicago forget when hell won over the 300 lives of man.

poem by Kurt Kacich
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Chicago

Chicago, chicago, that toddlin town
Chicago, chicago, Ill show you around (youll stay around)
Bet your bottom dollar you lose the blues in
Chicago, chicago, the folks who visit
All wanna settle down. (all wanna settle down in my hometown)
On state street, that great street, I just wanna say,
They do things they dont do on broadway,
Youll have the time, the time of your life
Bring all your friends, all your kids and your wife to
Chicago, chicago my hometown. (hey now baby--)
(oooh baby)
Youll have the time, the time of your life
Bring all your friends, all your kids and your wife to
Chicago, chicago my hometown.
Oh, to chicago, chicago my hometown (yeah)

song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Still Love the City, But the City Doesn't Love Me

Some have told me the city will ruin me
Some said the city is an ugly place
The city has marred better men than me

I hadn’t lived in the city for quite some time,
But living there again was an amazing experience

The city glowed with a dazzling beauty,
Pumping a vitality in my veins
Through my heart, an exuberant,
Youthful feeling of excitement

I let the city have my heart.
I thought the city gave me hers.
This love was not meant to last.
I had to leave the city for a little while.

The city couldn’t handle the distance,
Provoking the city to eject me from
The city’s heart, ripping and tearing
Until I was only a memory, a fling

So I left the city in search of a new life.
I found myself alone in the desert.
I convinced myself the city was only
A memory locked away

The days were sweltering and arduous,
The nights were frigid and excruciating

These times were spent alone, in silence
Where almost no life is sustainable,
And I ignored the ghosts which
Maliciously brought about vibrant,
Heartwarming thoughts of the city

I turned North, the city far passed
The horizon, though its glimmer
Reaches me still

Its lights do nothing but illuminate
The darkness this desert has
Brought into my heart
And the damage my lungs have
Sustained as they drown in my
Quiet tears

In this moment, I unleashed
An ugly, primal scream
From the depths of my marred soul,
The waves traveling through miles of
Nothingness

It was then when I realized
I still love the city.
But the city doesn’t love me.

poem by Alex Gomez
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Take Me Back To Chicago

Take me back to chicago
Lay my soul to rest
Where my life was free and easy
Remember me at my best
Take me back to chicago
Where music was all I had
I tried to be good as I could
And sometimes that made me sad
Take me back to chicago, to chicago
Why dont you take me back
Take me back, take me back
To chicago
I still dream of the lake of peacefulness
The warm summer breeze
cause my life was so much simpler then
Street corners and tastee freeze
Take me back to chicago
cause hustlins not my style
L.a. was just a bit too hard
I wish I could be a child
Livin back in chicago, in chicago
Why dont you take me back
Take me back, take me back
To chicago
Take me back to chicago
Lay my soul to rest
Where my life was free and easy
Remember me at my best
Take me back to chicago
cause hustlins not my style
L.a. was just a bit too hard
I wish I could be a child
Livin back in chicago, in chicago
Why dont you take me back
Take me back, take me back
To chicago
Take me back, take me back....

song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forever

it's been days and months
it'll be years...forever

no one leaves unless they're left

the abandoned don't like
emptiness they stay with

filled with days and months
days and months and years
forever

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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