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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Related quotes
Bedlam
It was bedlam, sheer chaos and collapse,
Of the city, the inner lot of buildings
Found in the country.
It composed of musical houses, golden shrines
And stationary and moving vehicles.
The bombs scolded me as well, lifted the lot,
Scalded me nearly, and wore my gait.
The running men were innocent, walking men
Were criminal.
Your city burned up till midnight,
Until fires were extinguished by the men of fire.
The city burnt again as the people recovered afterwards,
For they needed bandages and badges, fire was grotesque,
Fire made no sense, just not one sense, for it died
And everything died, when all was well, and afterwards,
All was well yet dead were some, and their families were somewhat dead.
The anarchy of this unique city fed as something else -
Hell on this world, hell to worsen the tracts of time.
poem by Naveed Akram
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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 East Gippsland Fires
In East Gippsland the fires are still going miles of woodland and farmland and bushland destroyed
The huge fire front it keeps on burning it's way through the brown Countryside,
Fires started by thunder and lightning and fires started by human kind
Amongst every rural community a firebug or two you will find
For many East Gippsland farmers a financial disaster by drought conditions already hit hard enough
The fires that have burnt to death many of their animals in their paddocks has made life for them far more tough,
The fire quenching rains are not coming the fires raging onwards and on
But the financial stress for them will continue and their heartbreak with the passing of the fires will not have gone
A tough time for farmers in general and they are facing a very tough year
But when fire rages in drought ravaged paddocks sad stories of heartbreak we do hear,
Many homes have been burned to ashes wildlife and domestic animals to the flames have been lost
Between drought and fire many rural communities left burdened with the huge financial cost
Left by the fire that burned it's way through their Country financial recovery for them may take years
And they will remember the bushfires that blackened the landscape with tears.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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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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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Tough Streets Of Chicago
Tough streets of Chicago, you made me who I am.
Tough streets of Chicago, for me you had a plan.
You forced me to observe, what kids my age did not.
You taught me to look and see, always looking for a plot.
You taught me to react, and kept me on my toes.
You taught me to examine, the actions of my foes.
You forced me to react, in situations dire.
You made sure I would function, when I came under fire.
You made sure I was tough, made sure I'd understand,
the skills that I would need, when I joined uncle Sam.
Tough streets of Chicago, I almost went insane.
Tough streets of Chicago, you caused me so much pain.
You made me grow up fast, always dodging death.
You made me run from danger, could hardly catch my breath.
You took most of my friends, why, I'll never understand.
You made it possible to count, all my friends on one hand.
You took them in their teens, you took them very young.
You took them way before, to live they had begun.
Tough streets of Chicago, my tour is almost up.
Tough streets of Chicago, with your gangster posting up.
Tough streets of Chicago, can't get you off my mind.
Tough streets of Chicago, I miss those streets of mine.
Tough streets of Chicago...............................
poem by Rico Avila
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Fire On the Ridge
In the west there is fearsome fire in the hills.
Full of dread, the people watch as flames burn upon the ridge.
Fierce winds fan the fury where the fires singe.
Meanwhile there’s hot air blasting forth from high upon the hill,
Pointless wind aimed at stirring some futile acts of men.
Strong winds fan the flames.
Embers ignite the blaze again.
While homes are lost across the land,
A burning night gives way to the dawn of restless men.
Rhetoric fails to charm while flames move across the land.
Fires burn readily across dry mountaintops.
Drought’s danger seeps down the slopes.
Now the valley too is brown and the pastures parched.
Wherever stray embers fall, fires will catch and burn
Until nowhere can they be stopped.
Will anything escape the flames fanned by these raging relentless winds?
The firemen grow weary,
They know neither sleep nor rest.
All their wisdom and efforts fail to meet the fires growing test.
They seek the help of younger men to aid them in the night,
But none can hear or heed the call; they are ensnared in some other fight.
The chief in command stands out of touch safe on the distant hill.
Insulated from the desperate fight, no fires will he end.
People in the valley see him perched emotionless and still.
If he even has a plan from this distance they can’t tell.
They fear for the safety of those who fight and for their own as well.
They fear the loss of all they love and treasure beyond price.
The fields once waved golden and valleys were lush with finest fruits.
The harvest, which they toiled toward, is in peril of being lost.
Will fires claim the victory and devour all they cherish?
Or will they rise against the blaze, fighting fire with fire, before they perish?
Through night a western ridge stays lit, while across this land no one dare now rest.
poem by Mary Havran
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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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The Great Fire of Ingersoll
Written at the time of the disaster.
'Twas on a pleasant eve in May.
Just as the sun shed its last ray,
The bell it rang, citizens to warn,
For lo ! a fire appears in barn.
An ancient barn near hotel stood,
The joining buildings all were wood ;
This barn a relic of the past,
There farmers' horses were made fast.
Our once fair town is now in woe,
And we have had our Chicago ;
But soon a nobler town will rise,
For Ingersoll's all enterprise.
For water far town need not seek,
As there is river and the creek
Just find the means it to apply
And then all fires must quickly die.
poem by James McIntyre
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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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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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Siren Of Fire
Fire:
When the water turns to mist
And the flames are rising high
I'll appear to you my darling
To wipe the tears from your eyes
I'll dance around the fire pit
Running wild with the flames
But as soon as the fire is out
I'll leave you without so much as my name
Water:
When water extinguishes the flame
It will also extinguish me
I will leave you to yourself
To soak in memory
When the land is watered down
And you stand beside the sea
Look for the bonfires
For that is where you'll find me
Burned:
Don't play with fire dearest
You know you will be burned
Leave the flames to me my love
They remind me of how I've yearned
For the sensation of my fire
That keeps our passions hot
I'll stay with you until the tide comes in
But after, I cannot
Drowned:
They douse the flames with water
Putting out the light
I drown with the flames
That ensnared you all night
I cannot stay with you now
My flames have been drowned out
But remember whenever you need me
Fire will bring me about
poem by Tatianna Rei Moonshadow
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Only In Chicago
I went back
Yes I went back to find out
What we did wrong and
I went back
Yes I went back to see just
How we could feel so good
In Chicago
We seemed to have it all
It was real
It was love
I went back
And I sat by the lake
And looked at the stars
And oh I swear
I remember how much we laughed
And I loved you so
In Chicago
I know we had it all
It was real
It was love
Only in Chicago
Love is in the air
In Chicago
There's a magic there
In Chicago
Our Chicago
Baby, you and I
We tried to take it with us
But you can't go back
'Cause I went back to find out
What we did wrong and
Now I see
That it wasn't just you
It wasn't just me
It was Chicago
But I'm still in love with you
Only you
Only you
But only in Chicago
REPEAT CHORUS
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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The Charred Cross
That winter's night the sky did glow
A flaming amber 'neath the stars,
As the city blazed the bombs lit up
The old cathedral spire,
Wave after endless wave they came
The whining drones the sounds from hell,
That echoed through the searchlights
And the anti-aircraft fire.
The city folk were helpless
As they saw their homes and streets destroyed,
The factories and the workshops
One by one were wiped away,
They watched as the cathedral burned
And saw its mighty roof collapse,
That smouldered through the morning
In the cold light of the day.
As the city lay in ruins
And the fallen bricks did fill the streets,
There was a sense of disbelief
So pitiful the sight,
The stench of death did linger through
That still and hushed November air,
Five hundred lives or more they said
Were lost upon that night.
As years did pass the city grew
And rose again from fire and flame,
Yet no one shall forget that time
Engrained for evermore,
Within the hearts of young and old
For made from charred and fallen beams,
A cross stands on the altar now
To show the cost of war.
(In memory of those killed during the Coventry air raid on the night of 14th November 1940.)
poem by by unknown author
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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 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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The Fire Night
I wore the fire night
fires sorrounded and covered İ STANBUL
I was alone...I was poison..I was poisonous
and all my bridges were blown up
ı sank my ships with my own bare hands
İ stanbul was burning
suffocating and suffocating
you were in blazes
you were burning
your screams
ı could never forget
your hair was in blazes..burning
fire reached to my lips
noone saw the fires
noone afforded a dropp of water to estinguish
you were a hell burning
istanbul was a hell..burning
and me an old hell...burning
my poems began to scream
let the smoke not suffocate me and make me blind
let me see you.. let me see your guilty eyes
let me see you lost in this fire night
let not the stones fall on my head
let me not fall down
let the ships not burn
if istanbul did not burn
and if you did not
ı could burn myself lonely and alone
ı t was a fire night
ı could never forget
İ stanbul was burning
Atilla İ LHAN
Translation Metin Ş AHİ N
poem by Metin Sahin
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Wings Of A Dove
Let me fly in the wings of a dove
Above the Manhattan sky
So that all the yankies can see me
At least I will be safe in the wings of a dove
And I can sleep while I am fling in the wings of a dove
I love to fly in the wings of a dove
But the feeling of being high in the sky is great
But God gave me a chance to fly in the wings of a dove
When the opportunity came I didn't even think for a minute
I just jumped right in this opportunity
And I am glad I did it
Because I am having the greatest time when I am flying in the wings of a Dove
But I woke up at midnight and the sky was already dark
Eventhough the dove was still flying
The dove took me all the way to Chigago the windy city
Men I must tell you that it was very windy inthe sky in chicago
But we landed safe in Chicago by the shore
And I sleept in the shore of Chicago for the night
To me it was almost like being inside a movie scream when I woke up the next morning at the Shore of Chicago
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Ring Of Fire
Love is a burning thing,
It makes a firey ring,
Bound by wild desire,
I fell in a ring of fire,
I fell into a burning ring of fire,
I went down, down, down and the flames went higher,
I burned, burned, burned,
A ring of fire, a ring of fire,
The taste of love is sweet,
And hearts like ours meet,
I fell for you just like a child,
And oh, the fire went wild,
I fell into a burning ring of fire,
I went down, down, down and the flames went higher,
And burned, burned, burned,
A ring of fire, a ring of fire,
I fell into a burning ring of fire,
I went down, down, down and the flames went higher,
And burned, burned, burned,
A ring of fire,
A ring of fire,
The taste of love is sweet,
And hearts like ours meet,
I fell for you just like a child,
And oh, the fire went wild,
I fell into a burning ring of fire,
I went down, down, down and the flames went higher,
And burned, burned, burned,
A ring of fire. (repeat, fade)
song performed by by Grace Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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