Best Chicago Poems
A Chicago Pearl
She put her dreams on hold but carries them up proudly
as she serves breakfast, lunch, and dinner, six days a week
to make ends meet; she’s a realist who doesn’t recoil from pain
or regrets; she faces them head on yet she likes the blues because
they soothe her bruised life that sometimes feels stagnant.
She awaits a new start and the rain in her head is held tight,
she will not be defined, nor resign herself to scattered dreams.
She hangs firm in her mind to these blooming flowers she saw in a terra cotta
pot on her way to work this morning; like them she’s growing stronger
in her voice and in her step. Tonight they’ll light candles
in the dark
“You’re a Chicago Pearl, Rondja!”
he said as she topped his coffee cup;
she briefly held his gaze, and then
let out the broadest of smiles.
E.E.CUMMINGS AND I
I remember a beautiful, Spring
day in Chicago.
Sitting on my lover's lap.
His eyes as lovely as the spring-
green trees tapping gently on my
living room windows.
His lips velvety as the roses on
Montrose Avenue, that day in May
And, I, reading him, E.E. Cummings
poem, "Since Feeling is First."
That one single poem my life did
change me, forevermore!
"He who worries about the syntax
of things, will never truly kiss you."
Ah~ how right E.E.Cummings was.
I was and I still am ecstatic with:
"Wholly to be a fool in the world,
my blood approves."
"And kisses are a better fate than
wisdom, lady, I swear by all the
flowers."
How very true we were that day
to E.E, Cummings line:
"Then laugh, leaning back in my
my arms"
God Bless you, EE!
"For life in not a paragraph, and
death is no parenthesis."
My life jettisoned after that day.
Forever, am I lost in a love capsule.
And hoped a poet, I would one day be.
Panagiota Romios
11/7/2019
California Dreaming
5/9/2025
Her memories like the softest, velvet clouds, gliding swiftly, were being
Dried from their moistness.
How grateful she was to follow.her dreams to California, freed from their
cold, and most unhelpul voices.
It took her some time to let go of old friends and warm, familiar faces,
And she knew it was her soul’s relentless, choices.
On the airplane, tears fell as the plane ascended, and she realized, heading
into the sunset, the strength of her own inner voices.
Invisible Prison
I look at the wall
I look at the floor
I look out the window
I look at the door
No clock on the wall
No light in the socket
Empty bottles and empty wallet
Bars in my mind
I am tied to chair
Longing freedom of the fresh air
Ropes hold me tight
Hopes have dulled my escaping knife
Empty room
Empty soul
I look at the floor
I look at the wall
I look at the door
I look out the window
The ceiling is falling
Fans twirling in my head
I stumble and fall
Through it all
Mirrors in turmoil
Dance in the mind
Death's sardonic laughter
Wishes granted by the latter
Month’s later authorities will demand
What the hell is the matter?
Red words, all a splatter
Stoic I sit, nothing to shatter
Police Report
One No sign of any struggle
Two Almost looks like he froze to death
One Door wasn’t even locked
One No food in the fridge
Two Odd hardly any furniture
One Will need a tox screen to make sure
One Looks like he just sat there and died
Two How long you figure he was like that?
One Month or more, maybe even two, allot of decomposition
Two Who called it in?
One Neighbor, said his car had a flat tire in his driveway
One and wasn’t moved in weeks
Two Hey take a look at this!
One what you got?
Two The freezer, full of Cash and gold
One I'd be damned, no food and all that doe
Two Almost feels like he was in a prison
One Who knows? The coroner is here
Two Ya, guess we done here, lab will do the rest
One Lets go grab a coffee
Some people have convictions, some people have two!
My room at the Hyatt
Smelled like my ex-wife
She didn't have oodles of class
Or wasn't overly fancy
So, it must be that aroma of
Almost masking what had
Taken place the night before
We greeted each other with
A welcoming suspicion
The bathroom lighting flawless
Standing in the mirror with
Perfect tan and bright white A
T-shirt
Khaki slacks pulled high and
Wise guy hair cut
I wonder if Capone ever went to see
The Cubbies play
Beautiful sunny day, not too warm
Plenty of room on the mezzanine
At Wrigley
A pleasantly safe distance from the
Big middle aged guys with
Some other man's name on their back ' s
Exhaling brat breath
And beer farts
the Windy City loves their team
9/22/1983
I drove your shining,Cadillac, Daddy!
The lead car to the cemetery.
A stuffed bear, your Borsalino,
In the August, back window,fino!
You, in the hearse, a few feet behind..
Tears on the, wheel, almost went blind.
Silent pallbearers, waited, white gloved.
Upset was I,.into earth, you'd be shoved.
Priest stands in prayerful solemnity,
Oh,God, take not my Father from me!
Family, friends around the grave stood,
Then, gone, into the silent, earth's hood.
You, who presented me as a debutante.
Beside myself, now, not nonchalant.
You left me to a world,full of want.
For your lost love, I always have sought.
A few days later, I came to sing you, your song.
The one you sang, though many years long!
"Daddy's Little Girl", you sang to me,
When I, was still the star in your tree!
Lyrics
Bobby Burke and Horace Gerlach
1949
" You'e the end of a rainbow, my pot of gold.
You're Daddy's little girl, to have and hold.
A precious gem, is what you are!
You're Mommy's bright and shining star.
You're the Spirit of Christmas, our Star on
the tree.
You're the Easter Bunny to Mommy and me!
You're sugar, you're spice, you are everything nice...
And you're Daddy's little girl!"
"""""""""""""
Song is also on. You Tube
Still love you, Daddy!
Panagiota's First Elegy
Dedicated to you, Dad!
The Muse
I remember it well when in the summer evenings
I went to see her we drank wine and made love
Embraced we slept to morning light.
Stay with me she said to rest a bit longer I will serve you tea
No, I wanted to go home savour the night in privacy
Feed the dog, go for a walk and write about my love for her.
It ended like a morning dream; she had found a man who
Drank her tea and stayed with her till he was too old
And she sent him to an old people’s home.
She had been my muse lives in my poems, but no,
I didn`t want to stay with her a painter rarely marries his model
But she will always be there hanging in some gallery
Or on the wall in the lobby of some hotel.
At night the city is full of bones
And they
Are very dry
Beneath the trample of urban feet
They are ground
But to live, these dry bones
Must drink words
Sad nervous me, I stammer
Against those arid limbs
Grinding bone-dust songs
Into scattered fragments spun from raging blades
But realizing so many so, I sputter
Thought-hacked soul-flakes, soaring
Crooked in an angry wind. . .
Though stinted, inconsiderable, I say them
Spit them down the papered street
Into a shadow where the dew will stay
And some anonymous day some
Stray seed will grow on them
And suckle upon a speck of misty bone
And though the nights will continue
To align the humps of an un-slaked dune
Something out of this sand will rise
Small, and secretly original
And I will be part of her:
my bony, blue, and sensual city
the health of the family
reflects the health of the city
broken families=broken cities
fix your family=heal your break
As I recall it was December
When a blizzard closed down O’Hare
I was sick of northern winters
While the sun was shining south somewhere
I remembered in a magazine
Pictures of a tropic scene
In the sunny Caribbean
So, I called my friendly travel agent
Send me somewhere it's hot
When I asked her for suggestions
She said "Antigua, maybe Montserrat
I replied, "I just don't know"
"just as long as there isn't snow"
She just laughed, "when can you go?"
Quit my job and sold my car on Friday
Bought a video on water sports
Gave up suits and sweaters all to goodwill
Shopped for sandals, found some neon shorts
All my friends said "Dave, you're nuts"
Trader Vicks sells coconuts
Seems to us you're in a rut
At the airport, all the seats were taken
Travelers were sitting on the floor
When I heard a voice behind me
"Sir, there's always room for more
I think I saw you in the parking lot
Ten degrees and she still looked hot
Cupid aimed and took his shot
What can you say to an unknown lady
And be politically correct
If you can't improve on silence
You risk showing disrespect
"excuse me please but I’d like to know
How a flower blooms in snow"
She just smiled and said "hello"
Our Summer's too hot; our Winter's too cold
Our Spring is too rainy; Autumn's withheld
Just hear me complain -- I'm sure sounding old
Our Summers are truly as humid as Hell
Clothes cling to your skin, not funny at all
Our Spring is too rainy; Autumn's withheld
September, October, November are Fall
The calendar says -- Why do snowflakes descend
Clothes cling to your skin, not funny at all
Winter's so cold, you just can't comprehend
Just look in the toilet: Frozen urine!
The calendar says -- Why do snowflakes descend
The Spring is so wet, the Sun thinks it a sin
To shine in the daytime ever again
Just look in the toilet: Frozen urine!
Chicago's bad weather seems never to end
Our Summer's too hot; our Winter's too cold
But wait a few hours, they say it amends...
Just hear me complain -- I'm sure sounding old
In a lovely city, quiet and small.
That aroma of French coffee set me reeling.
With robins' wings casting lovely shadows on the wall.
And my lavender morning candle,flickered as crystals on the ceiling.
In this serene solitude,lingered memories of a golden childhood!
Those humid Chicago summers, blest by a most golden sun.
Trips to picnic in its great verdant,tall-treed woods.
Divine innocence in all its glory, wrapped in a ribbon of unforgettable fun!
Neighbors with whom we heartily dined and enjoyed.
Roller skating and crashing onto the cement, oh so hard!
We had red wagons to tote about our very precious toys.
And, evenings on lawn chairs, a starry Midwest sky,in breezy-cool green yards!
5/30/2022
What comes through a pistol barrel
May make holes in your apparel
But it could be worse ....
You won't need an hearse
If the next shot makes you sterile!
* A Star Danced*
So ebony soft is indeed this night.
However, only to be lit by a dancing star.
I watched with profound amazement,
At all the ballet moves it knew from afar.
Bringing back my childhood.
With its grace and ballet elegance.
You see, night is like a star or firefly,
Whose glory sparkles mostly only at night.
It's been a lifelong mystery to me~
But it is when the sun is gone,
And only then, I am fully alive and truly me.
Darkness divine, emblazons my quill, like a quadrille.
It's only with silver moonbeams and twinkling stars,
I feel as a divinely, embraced, celestial one!
The night is my day, and may it forever be.
For God's nightly heaven, brings out the best in me.
July 8, 2020
11:15pm PST
Dedicated to my fellow ballet partner and Cousin Madelyn,
and our ballet memories and joys with Miss Leila!
Thank you for the footlight memories we shared.
Love you~ "Blue Danube" Panagiota
nineseventeenPM on a winter's night asleep
wolf wind's a-whistlin' and a-howlin'
reaching under every blanket, every sheet
grasping shivering victims in dread's keep
Late spring or early summer, nineseventeenPM
resplendent sunlight's finally dimmed and darkened
though moments ago 'twas still radiant out west
time to head on in from porch or stoop
pre-midnight snack awaits, old-fashioned
homemade beet-borscht soup
nineseventeenPM in mid-Fall, Jack Frost's on the vine
of pumpkins large and small, candlelit smiles
greeting passersby … friendly faces masking
haunting sense that old man winter lurks nearby
nineseventeenPM in Chicago
Fore shadow of terror, or benign:
Evening's waning quickly now
~ Mark each hour's chime