Advanced Poem Search

Submit Poem

Contests

Member Poems Poets

Famous Poems Poets Quotes

Fun

Member Area

Member Area
My Poems
My Profile
My Inboxes
My Outboxes
Submit Poem

Soup Social

The Wall
Chat Room
Soup Facebook Page
Poetry Forum
Events Calendar
Who is Online
Past Polls (Archives)

Member Poets/Poems

Premium Members For Life
Poets
Poets - New
Poets - by Country
Poets - Top 100 Poems
Poets - Top 100 Popular
Poets - Top 100 Contests
Poets - Top 100 Community
Poems
Poems - Best Poems
Poems - by Country
Poems - Hindi
Poems - Long Poems
Poems - New
Poems - New by Poet
Poems - Poem Topics
Poems - Poetry
Poems - Random Poem
Poems - Read Poems
Poems - Search Poems
Poems - Short Poems
Poems - Top 100 All-Time
Poems - Top 100 Recent
Poems - Unread
Poems - Urdu

Famous Poets/Poems

Famous Poets
Famous Poets - All
Famous Poets - Beat
Famous Poets - Best
Famous Poets - Biographies
Famous Poets - Black
Famous Poets - by Country
Famous Poets - Classical
Famous Poets - English
Famous Poets - Hindi
Famous Poets - Jewish
Famous Poets - Metaphysical
Famous Poets - Modern
Famous Poets - Popular
Famous Poets - Quotes
Famous Poets - Romantic
Famous Poets - Top 100
Famous Poets - Urdu
Famous Poets - Women
Famous Poems
Famous Poems - Best
Famous Poems - Black
Famous Poems - Category
Famous Poems - Classical
Famous Poems - English
Famous Poems - Random
Famous Poems - Short
Famous Poems - Top 100

Contests

Contests: by PoetrySoup
Contests: by Members
Contest Winners: Soup
Contest Winners: Member
Contest Status: Member

Lyrics

Lyrics
Lyrics - Search

Resources

About PoetrySoup
The Bible
Character Counter
Cliches in Poetry
Common English Words
Copyright Information
Dictionary
eBooks - Poetry
FAQs
Grammar
Haiku Syllable Counter
History of Poetry
Homonyms
Homophones
How to Write a Poem
Love Poem Generator
Meter and Foot in Poetry
National Poetry Month
Poet Laureate
Poetics
Poetics of Aristotle
Poetry For Kids
Poetry
Poetry Definitions
Poetry Slam
Poetry Store
Poetry Out Loud
Prose
Publishing
Punctuation in Poetry
Quotes - Quotations
Resources - External
Resources - For Teachers
Rhyming Dictionary
Rhyme in Poetry
Spell Checker
Syllables
Syllable Counter
Syllable Rules
Teaching Prose and Poetry
Thesaurus
Videos: Poetry/Writing
What is Good Poetry?
What is Poetry?
Word Counter

Email Poem

From Email:
To Email:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem	THE SINS of Kalamazoo are neither scarlet nor crimson. The sins of Kalamazoo are a convict gray, a dishwater drab. And the people who sin the sins of Kalamazoo are neither scarlet nor crimson. They run to drabs and grays—and some of them sing they shall be washed whiter than snow—and some: We should worry. Yes, Kalamazoo is a spot on the map And the passenger trains stop there And the factory smokestacks smoke And the grocery stores are open Saturday nights And the streets are free for citizens who vote And inhabitants counted in the census. Saturday night is the big night. Listen with your ears on a Saturday night in Kalamazoo And say to yourself: I hear America, I hear, what do I hear? Main street there runs through the middle of the twon And there is a dirty postoffice And a dirty city hall And a dirty railroad station And the United States flag cries, cries the Stars and Stripes to the four winds on Lincoln’s birthday and the Fourth of July. Kalamazoo kisses a hand to something far off. Kalamazoo calls to a long horizon, to a shivering silver angel, to a creeping mystic what-is-it. “We’re here because we’re here,” is the song of Kalamazoo. “We don’t know where we’re going but we’re on our way,” are the words. There are hound dogs of bronze on the public square, hound dogs looking far beyond the public square. Sweethearts there in Kalamazoo Go to the general delivery window of the postoffice And speak their names and ask for letters And ask again, “Are you sure there is nothing for me? I wish you’d look again—there must be a letter for me.” And sweethearts go to the city hall And tell their names and say,“We want a license.” And they go to an installment house and buy a bed on time and a clock And the children grow up asking each other, “What can we do to kill time?” They grow up and go to the railroad station and buy tickets for Texas, Pennsylvania, Alaska. “Kalamazoo is all right,” they say. “But I want to see the world.” And when they have looked the world over they come back saying it is all like Kalamazoo. The trains come in from the east and hoot for the crossings, And buzz away to the peach country and Chicago to the west Or they come from the west and shoot on to the Battle Creek breakfast bazaars And the speedbug heavens of Detroit. “I hear America, I hear, what do I hear?” Said a loafer lagging along on the sidewalks of Kalamazoo, Lagging along and asking questions, reading signs. Oh yes, there is a town named Kalamazoo, A spot on the map where the trains hesitate. I saw the sign of a five and ten cent store there And the Standard Oil Company and the International Harvester And a graveyard and a ball grounds And a short order counter where a man can get a stack of wheats And a pool hall where a rounder leered confidential like and said: “Lookin’ for a quiet game?” The loafer lagged along and asked, “Do you make guitars here? Do you make boxes the singing wood winds ask to sleep in? Do you rig up strings the singing wood winds sift over and sing low?” The answer: “We manufacture musical instruments here.” Here I saw churches with steeples like hatpins, Undertaking rooms with sample coffins in the show window And signs everywhere satisfaction is guaranteed, Shooting galleries where men kill imitation pigeons, And there were doctors for the sick, And lawyers for people waiting in jail, And a dog catcher and a superintendent of streets, And telephones, water-works, trolley cars, And newspapers with a splatter of telegrams from sister cities of Kalamazoo the round world over. And the loafer lagging along said: Kalamazoo, you ain’t in a class by yourself; I seen you before in a lot of places. If you are nuts America is nuts. And lagging along he said bitterly: Before I came to Kalamazoo I was silent. Now I am gabby, God help me, I am gabby. Kalamazoo, both of us will do a fadeaway. I will be carried out feet first And time and the rain will chew you to dust And the winds blow you away. And an old, old mother will lay a green moss cover on my bones And a green moss cover on the stones of your postoffice and city hall. Best of all I have loved your kiddies playing run-sheep-run And cutting their initials on the ball ground fence. They knew every time I fooled them who was fooled and how. Best of all I have loved the red gold smoke of your sunsets; I have loved a moon with a ring around it Floating over your public square; I have loved the white dawn frost of early winter silver And purple over your railroad tracks and lumber yards. The wishing heart of you I loved, Kalamazoo. I sang bye-lo, bye-lo to your dreams. I sang bye-lo to your hopes and songs. I wished to God there were hound dogs of bronze on your public square, Hound dogs with bronze paws looking to a long horizon with a shivering silver angel, a creeping mystic what-is-it.
	CAPTCHA Preview Type the characters you see in the picture