Anchor to Windward
Lakeboat mariners look forward to winter lay-up all summer long. The last voyage north from the steel mills in South Chicago begins before dawn with autumn winds and a cup of hot black coffee from the galley to ward off the chill. Guys congregate on the wind-swept decks, stomping feet and talking of this and that - wives and kids and days spent lounging before the new TV and drinking Budweiser.
'See you next spring, Mick? '
'Not on the Mighty Fitz, you won't! '
His shipmates laugh. They all know Mick's final paycheck is all but spent as soon as he signs off the boat. His wife and three kids live in a four room flat in Canaryville on Chicago's south side. Mick's not ready to swallow the anchor yet. He'll be back with the rest of us eager to sail another season on the Lakes. We keep an anchor to windward.
first day of November
raw winds astern-
lake is dark and deep
life ashore-
rent due
first of the month
morning till night
chores to do-
house in disarray
bar tab
eats up the bonus-
wife in a snit
first day of April
seabag packed-
Mighty Fitz welcomes us
poem by Michael Pruchnicki
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
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
Vote! | Copy!
Seeds
Well a great black river a man had found
So he put all his money in a hole in the ground
And sent a big steel arm drivin down down down
Man now I live on the streets of houston town
Packed up my wife and kids when winter came along
And we headed down south with just spit and a song
But they said sorry son its gone gone gone
Well theres men hunkered down by the railroad tracks
The elkhorn special blowin my hair back
Tents pitched on the highway in the dirty moonlight
And I dont know where Im gonna sleep tonight
Parked in the lumberyard freezin our asses off
My kids in the back seat got a graveyard cough
Well Im sleepin up in front with my wife
Billy club tappin on the windshield in the middle of the night
Says move along man move along
Well big limousine long shiny and black
You dont look ahead you dont look back
How many times can you get up after youve been hit?
Well I swear if I could spare the spit
Id lay one on your shiny chrome
And send you on your way back home
So if youre gonna leave your town where the north wind blow
To go on down where that sweet soda river flow
Well you better think twice on it jack
Youre better off buyin a shotgun dead off the rack
You aint gonna find nothin down here friend
Except seeds blowin up the highway in the south wind
Movin on movin on its gone gone its all gone
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Storms of November
Every Spring I look forward to the storms
of November that roll down from up north
Green trees and warm sun adumbrates
the cold and fog that envelop the Lakes
From Superior to South Chicago
beginning the first of November
As monster ore freighters like the fabled
Edmund Fitzgerald are broken and go down
With all hands aboard lost to the storm's fury
in a matter of hours on the raging lake
Now I think fondly of those ships at rest
that once carried the ore for industry
Like other survivors of disaster I am blessed
that I forget the hardship and grueling work
and the sacrifice of family life for a job!
poem by Michael Pruchnicki
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mick
Mick loves sports deep in his heart
Of his whole life; footy and soccer play a major part
Playing and watching gives him a high
Especially when his team kicks a goal or scores a try
In AFL the Sydney Swans or the Red and White
Are forever the favourites in his sight
Mick has loved Middlesbrough English soccer team or Boro as they are known
Since from a child; he has grown
In NRL Mick is happy to see West Tigers roar
As this is the side that he barracks for
Total satisfaction Mick always finds
Through Sports of all kinds
poem by Rose Angel H
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
People often get the wrong impression of Mick. The clever businessman is just one side of Mick. The other side is the same as the rest of us, a true rocker!
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
Vote! | Copy!
Last Days of Summer
Whatever the way the summer days end,
In the type of summer is how it has been,
Whether a good one or bad one,
The last days of summer,
Can be sad or happy endings,
As each season ends,
With another one beginning,
The summer could have been,
Miserable yet,
Sun scorching us everyday,
And sunlight shining on all our faces,
It is how it is,
Out there where all is seen,
In,
Summer days of fun,
Summer days of love,
Summer days of seeing,
Summer days of been,
Out and about where summer is,
And when summer came and went?
With a mundane feeling that it left?
Was the last days of summer,
And the begining of another,
Autumn as we know it,
Fall in other places,
Where the ending of one season shows,
By the decaying of it,
When Autumn Fall shows,
Where we will wrap up and snuggle,
With warm cuppas drinks,
With a book,
Or,
Catch up on watching films,
Yet,
Still,
Musing over the summer days,
Of sunshine memories,
Now,
Warm hats and gloves,
With rustle leaves,
That rustle beneath,
Our feet as we walk,
Through the park,
And see,
The summer leaves turn,
To autumn shades,
Taking in,
The last days of summer,
Reflecting,
And remember,
The falls of Autumn's,
Is the signs of summer,
That has ended,
And minglings with,
All that falls,
From the summer ending,
To autumn beginnings,
Is the,
Decaying,
Of summer,
To regrow itself,
For next season's of summer,
When it begins again,
Yet,
In between,
There's,
Autumn,
Winter,
Spring,
Till,
Again,
Last days of summer,
And all in bloom again.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The South Side of Chicago'' by David Hart
''The South Side of Chicago'' by David Hart
The South Side of Chicago
Whence those childhood years were spent
Skip-walking upon grimacing cracked sidewalks
Hastening through filth floored garbage canned
flanked alleyways to-
The forlorn house-windows weeping chrystalline shards-
cascading glass tears
'Property Condemned' blared in scarlet on the door.
'Someone lives there' it was said,
'the man who gathers things from the garbage cans'
The pebble strewn church yard, where, in prickly winter,
scarved boys coerce the bell to toll with swift flung
snowballs catapaulted to a shivering bell tower.
The South Side of Chicago,
The year of the big church fire
That day it did burn and claw
At the hot black night sky.
People gathered, assembled in solemnity
Aghast, huddled and shoving to see
That hallowed place whose torrents
Of Sunday's serenities and dressups
Now would no longer be.
The South Side of Chicago
There, the swill darkened tavern
That nightly gulped down shadow faced spectres
A lad cries out, 'the bar, someone stabbed in the
head, come and see'.
'Not I', I said, 'not a sight I'd care to see',
as an acidic sadness enveloped me.
The boys came together wearing their
jackets and coats-symbols affixed, emblems
proudly donned-so they knew who they were.
'Wanna join? ' 'No thanks', I said, 'Glad to be
just solitary me'.
I watched them, fighting their rivals
With chains, steel pipes and knives
Fearing their bloody deeds.
Content to be alone
Alone and free
The South Side of Chicago
In cramped classrooms scented in
soap and sawdust
Mostly attentive I would be
Amidst tatterly clothed children
-waiting for recess, lunch or
time to go home.
At recess, the garbage men came
And roused a battalion of rats
That scattered pell-mell
Amidst little girl shrieks
and screams
Little boys chortling
Chased those rats frightened
away
Far away
On the South Side of Chicago
2001DHartUSA
poem by David Hart
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Just Another Night
(ian hunter/mick ronson)
Oh no, the fuzz, all in a line
My oh my, I think Im gonna die
And its just another night
Its just another night
Got a long black face; who goes there?
All the reefer madnessput a poor kid in jail
And its just another night
Yeah, its just another night
Oh take it easy boy or its doa
Chrome on my body and a lot of folks say
That its just another night
Hey, its just another night
Oh, its just another night on the other side of life
Head ones a saw-bones and he wrecked my chair
Said howd you like to do it in a room downstairs
And its just another night
Oh, just another night
Hey now, papa joe, dont you pull my hair
All this intrigue, it gets me out of my league
And its just another night
Its just another night
His old man spent a fortune just to get him in
But baby boy growed up just as stupid as him
And its just another night
Its just another night
Its just another night on the other side of life
Just another night, hung down slow
I dont like the hotel let me go
Hells bells! give me a chance!
This rock n roller dont wanna dance
Just another night
Just another night
Well, its just another night on the other side of life
I never felt so bad; wheres my shades?
Its gonna be a long one getting crazed
A head spoutin noodles said, what do you plead?
I said you aint got to touch a man to make a man bleed
n its just another night (on the other side)
Its just another night (on the other side)
Its just another night (on the other side)
Its just another night (on the other side)
Its just another night (on the other side)
Its just another night (on the other side)
Its just another night (on the other side)
Its just another night (on the other side)
Its just another night (on the other side)
Its just another night (on the other side)
Its just another night (on the other side)
Its just another night (on the other side)
Its just another night (on the other side)
Its just another night!
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
If it wasn't for Mick, the group would've fallen apart a long time ago.
quote by Mick Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Fisherman jim's kids
Fisherman Jim lived on the hill
With his bonnie wife an' his little boys;
'T wuz "Blow, ye winds, as blow ye will -
Naught we reck of your cold and noise!"
For happy and warm were he an' his,
And he dandled his kids upon his knee
To the song of the sea.
Fisherman Jim would sail all day,
But, when come night, upon the sands
His little kids ran from their play,
Callin' to him an' wavin' their hands;
Though the wind was fresh and the sea was high,
He'd hear'em - you bet - above the roar
Of the waves on the shore!
Once Fisherman Jim sailed into the bay
As the sun went down in a cloudy sky,
And never a kid saw he at play,
And he listened in vain for the welcoming cry.
In his little house he learned it all,
And he clinched his hands and he bowed his head -
"The fever!" they said.
'T wuz a pitiful time for Fisherman Jim,
With them darlin's a-dyin' afore his eyes,
A-stretchin' their wee hands out to him
An' a-breakin' his heart with the old-time cries
He had heerd so often upon the sands;
For they thought they wuz helpin' his boat ashore -
Till they spoke no more.
But Fisherman Jim lived on and on,
Castin' his nets an' sailin' the sea;
As a man will live when his heart is gone,
Fisherman Jim lived hopelessly,
Till once in those years they come an' said:
"Old Fisherman Jim is powerful sick -
Go to him, quick!"
Then Fisherman Jim says he to me:
"It's a long, long cruise-you understand -
But over beyont the ragin' sea
I kin see my boys on the shinin' sand
Waitin' to help this ol' hulk ashore,
Just as they used to - ah, mate, you know! -
In the long ago."
No, sir! he wuzn't afeard to die;
For all night long he seemed to see
His little boys of the days gone by,
An' to hear sweet voices forgot by me!
An' just as the mornin' sun come up -
"They're holdin' me by the hands!" he cried,
An' so he died.
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ahane's Own Mick Mackey
In his Limerick had a name to celebrate
Ahane's own Mick Mackey was a hurling great
Assured of his place in Hurling's Hall of Fame
In death as in life his a legendary name.
So many great hurlers the way of time have gone
But the legend of Mackey destined to live on
He is proclaimed to be the best of his time
And he must have been great when he was in his prime.
Mick Mackey the hurler broad shouldered and strong
The man who was honoured in story and song
He inspired Limerick to many a marvellous victory
And very few hurlers were as great as he.
He was never found wanting when put to the test
Ahane's own Mick Mackey he was Limerick's best
One of the famed Mackeys the legendary Mick
He weaved hurling magic with his caman stick.
Of his prowess of a great scoring forward he left none in doubt
And when hurling people talk of great hurlers his name is never left out
And though from the land of the living he may be long gone
As a hurling legend his name will live on.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Wind
The calendar-dated joy
The alarm waking breath
The nine-month expectation
The delicacy of a rose
The coarseness of a leaf
The destined seasons
The place of the dayspring
Harmattan's and winter's dry and chill
Autumn, as the leaves leave home and hit the ground
The trees say goodbye as you fall
Summer, your sun's glory days
Rain, God's crying ways, your pain aches
Spring, the flowers they bloom and so do you
Music, the hemoglobin of my heart
The acoustic guitar, the violin...
Words, spoken few, written more
Three words that makes all the difference
Killed some, healed some, made some
God, my lifetime dated lover
The life-timed goodbye, death
Leaves the soil wetter
Turns the light on for those it takes
Dims the lamp for those behind
The winds, ah, the winds
The North wind brought you in nine months
And pours on you the grace to live
And shines on you the light that will guide you back North
The East wind, brought love your way
Hope you loved deeply and truly?
The healing, the rising of your sun
The making of the you, you are
The West wind, it sets your sun
The pain, the love lost, the darkness
The loss, the aching sea, the grief
The South wind, the calender-dated end
Pulling down the poster of the nine-month gift
Ending the sojourn on the countryside
The last string of the violin
The last note of a song
Did you dance while the song was playing?
Did you hear the music or at least feel your heart beat
Me, you, we, are waiting for a purpose to rise
The calender-dated joy
Your wedding day, graduation, golden anniversary
Are you happy today?
Were you with joy as each wind blew
I wasn't, I'm not...I'm wrong
Each wind plays a song
Tells a story...listen...its the story of life
And there's a hand offering to dance
To dance, oh, to dance with you
To the song of all songs
To sway with you as each wind blows
To be your joy every day in your calendar
He's the one who cried the rain
That you may blossom in summer
Who wants to keep you warmer than warm in winter's cruel
And when the South wind blows its last
The winds have stopped
Plays the last note of that beautiful song
He named...your life.
poem by Jenim Dibie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mick Cashman
In the Cork County Senior Football Championship Final of 1957 I still recall the day
The last time I see Mick Cashman for his home club Millstreet Play
At the Cork Athletic grounds that day the Duhallow men were beat
The City Club St Finbarrs proved too good for Millstreet.
The Barrs fans celebrated the victory was sweet
But Mick Cashman played a great game he was gallant in defeat
In the biggest day in Cork County for the game of Gaelic Football
And though Millstreet lost to go that far they did well overall.
Mick Cashman was ordained a priest and for New Zealand he was bound
Far from Millstreet in Duhallow and Tullig his home ground
In the green and gold of Millstreet he was never seen again
But what was a loss to Ireland was surely New Zealand's gain.
Mick Cashman was a gentleman and of him 'twould be fair to say
That to help out other people he went out of his way
A Parish Priest in New Zealand where he was known far and wide
And his success in his adopted Country to Millstreet a sense of pride.
He is buried in New Zealand far south and far away
From Tullig above Millstreet Town where he first saw light of day
Last saw him in a Cork County Final for Millstreet playing Gaelic Football
A good memory till my own end that I surely will recall.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Life Is Lovely All the Year
When the buds are blossoming,
Smiling welcome to the spring,
Lovers choose a wedding day -
Life is love in merry May!
Spring is green - Fal lal la!
Summer's rose - Fal lal la!
It is sad when Summer goes,
Fal la!
Autumn's gold - Fal lal la!
Winter's grey - Fal lal la!
Winter still is far away -
Fal la!
Leaves in Autumn fade and fall;
Winter is the end of all.
Spring and summer teem with glee:
Spring and summer, then, for me!
Fal la!
In the Spring-time seed is sown:
In the Summer grass is mown:
In the Autumn you may reap:
Winter is the time for sleep.
Spring is hope - Fal lal la!
Summer's joy - Fal lal la!
Spring and Summer never cloy,
Fal la!
Autumn, toil - Fal lal la!
Winter, rest - Fal lal la!
Winter, after all, is best -
Fal la!
Spring and summer pleasure you,
Autumn, ay, and winter, too -
Every season has its cheer;
Life is lovely all the year!
Fal la!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I'm In Love With You
I'm in love with you,
I fell in love with you during a difficult situation.
I adore the brisk wind that lifts up off of the lake,
that pertrudes to my face.
I mean, I'm digging you.
I long to court you, not to marry you,
yet get a spot to get to know you.
Frequent visits stir my heart to believe,
that we could last forever!
Your foundation is deep like the sea,
captivating my emotions for eternity.. wwwwwwwhhhhhhooooooo!
You are the wind, you are the wind, that blows
and stirs my heart in the right direction.
I'm telling you, I'm digging you more than you will ever know.
My desire has been fulfilled, and I've made my confession, and request.
I look forward to giving you my best.
Chicago, I'm in love with you.
Can it be true that I, discovered a city as beautiful as you,
I long to visit you, ever so often.
The wind breathes against my face soft like cotton,
you erase the things that are rotten.'
You protect what's yours.
Your wind tells a story of the night moon glow.
I smell the spring of life as you blow the troubles away from the lake.
They run to you for security, you captivate, motivate them to be better people in the form of a still soft wind.
You rise up their emotions to a different place than what they were in.
You pull them out of the dungeon with your beautiful fall air,
you wave them from left to right, and side to side.
You let them know that everything with the sun hitting them,
will be all right.
Chicago, Chicago wind....
poem by Sallie Marie Tompkins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Princess: A Medley: O Swallow
O Swallow, Swallow, flying, flying South,
Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves,
And tell her, tell her, what I tell to thee.
O tell her, Swallow, thou that knowest each,
That bright and fierce and fickle is the South,
And dark and true and tender is the North.
O Swallow, Swallow, if I could follow, and light
Upon her lattice, I would pipe and trill,
And cheep and twitter twenty million loves.
O were I thou that she might take me in,
And lay me on her bosom, and her heart
Would rock the snowy cradle till I died.
Why lingereth she to clothe her heart with love,
Delaying as the tender ash delays
To clothe herself, when all the woods are green?
O tell her, Swallow, that thy brood is flown:
Say to her, I do but wanton in the South,
But in the North long since my nest is made.
O tell her, brief is life but love is long,
And brief the sun of summer in the North,
And brief the moon of beauty in the South.
O Swallow, flying from the golden woods,
Fly to her, and pipe and woo her, and make her mine,
And tell her, tell her, that I follow thee.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Welcome home!
As soon as I walked in, Kilmartin called out,
'Welcome home, brave Ulysses, from the strife! '
Now I was glad to be back in the neighborhood,
you can count on that, and the red-faced Kilmartin
with his exuberant Irish greeting, set my heart at ease.
All the lads who had dodged the draft and avoided combat
were sitting on stools at the mahogany bar in Kilmartin's
Kennel Club, waiting patiently for a live one to buy drinks.
Three years in the Far East had changed me, and fighting
in paddy fields had awakened me to what the world had
in store for a dumb mick from the south side of Chicago!
Sink or swim, lad, I thought as I scanned the crowd.
poem by Michael Pruchnicki
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
No Expectations
(mick jagger)
Take me to the station,
And put me on a train
I've got no expectations,
To pass through here again
(lenny kravitz)
Once i was a rich man,
And now i am so poor
But never in my sweet short life
Have i felt so like this before
(mick jagger)
Your heart is like a diamond,
You throw your pearls at swine
And as i watch you leaving me,
You pack my peace of mind
(lenny kravitz)
Our love was like the water
That splashes on a stone
Our love is like our music,
It's here and then it's gone
(mick jagger)
So take me to the airport,
And put me on a plane
I've got no expectations
To pass through here again
(lenny kravitz & mick jagger)
To pass through here again
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
4. Blow me down
The North wind blew on Monday
As the East wind got the flu
The West wind blew on Tuesday
As the South wind never knew
The North East wind had Wednesday
As the South West wasn’t chuffed
The North West blew on Thursday
As the South East hardly puffed
The East and West blew Friday
As the others had a rest
The North and South blew Saturday
As the weekends were the best
The lot of them had Sunday
As the winds turned into storm
The whole of them had Monday off
As the week got back to norm
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!