Best Mccormick Poems
It was in eighteen eighty-six in the streets of Chicago,
where the greatest miscarriage of justice people would know
transpired in an infamous labor-police rendezvous.
Albert Parsons led eighty thousand people on revue.
The strikers marched down Chicago’s Michigan Avenue.
The Knights of Labor were sponsors for the work stoppage venue.
Demands for shorter work hours and no child labor were made.
This would be regarded as the world’s first May Day parade.
Thousands nationwide would join in with the activities
In the next few days, the striking workers stopped whole industries.
On the third, some strikers and police engaged in melees.
These actions resulted in two ill-fated fatalities.
The struggles also caused some severe hideous injuries.
The fights took place at the McCormick Harvester Company.
Many held the police for murderous culpability.
Organizers from the Knights of Labor held a mass rally
at the Haymarket in Chicago’s West Loop vicinity.
They would assemble there in the early part of May.
Thousands crowded there peacefully on the month’s fourth day.
Leaflets were passed noting the police for murder to the crowd
as anarchists urged the mobs to join forces and shout aloud.
A bomb thrown at the police catalyzed an altercation.
One officer was killed and others hurt in the explosion.
Matthias Degan was the officer fallen in duty.
Seven other policemen died later from an injury.
The police opened fire on the people immediately.
At least eleven of the strikers were shot at fatally.
Eight men stood trial for the death of police officer Degan.
They were Parsons, August Spies, George Engel, Samuel Fielden,
Adolf Fischer, Louis Lingg, Michael Schwab, and Oscar Neebe.
All eight were tried and found guilty by a judge and jury.
Neebe got fifteen years; the others got the death penalty.
Schwab and Fielden were commuted to life; then got clemency.
Lingg took his own life before his scheduled execution.
The remaining four men were hanged in public exhibition.
Since then, there have been enacted many labor reform laws
The men who died are considered martyrs to a noble cause.
I thank wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for the information I obtained to write this
poem.
Categories:
mccormick, history, death, men, work,
Form:
Rhyme
I wrote my poems
with my heart
I strolled abroad
With my manuscripts,
drew my expectations
into my drawings
The avalanche of suffering
crushes me.
I put years
on my back,
stored secrets
in my memory
Often I could not end
trips...
I was annoyed
by the hypocritical
before my eyes
The mothers gave birth
to tears
The orphans and the forlorn
distributed grief.
I wrote my poems
with my heart
I strolled abroad
With my manuscripts,
drew my expectations
into my drawings
The avalanche of suffering
crushes me.
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Rueil Malmaison – 10.12.2005
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick, 22.02.2006
Categories:
mccormick, inspirational, lost love, love,
Form:
Haiku
By his attitudes
your uncle resembles
a machine with laughs in brightness!
With some difficulty
most people stop themselves
from laughing.
Besides, are they are in a state
to laugh -
poor people?
Their problems exceed their means,
high costs exclude...
their children are untenable.
Their waiting
lags behind
the century.
Finding
nothing else in place
he grabs passers-by
by the nose...
a gag in one hand,
a carrot and an onion
in the other.
As a matter of fact...
what does he want,
your uncle?
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Magnanville, 17.04.2001
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick, 16.10.2005
Categories:
mccormick, imagination, inspirational, people,
Form:
Haiku
What species of humanity are you?
Whatever kind you are, you don't worry us.
According to hearsay
you were willing to lay your hands
on small items
deposited by my mother
to the communal account,
close to a bank.
I know that since its existence
Istanbul has changed others.
Some who have gone there wearing worn down shoes
have returned in high heels.
You continue to brush its streets with your skirt.
Mirrors do not show what really happens.
Ah, yes, you forget so quickly
the dusty streets of the sub-prefecture
of your childhood.
This ruse is your currency of the moment.
I know you.
You have swindled your brothers and sisters
with many recoveries.
My daughter, is there nobody to take you by the hair
and demand that you seek out America or Europe?
You have invented a lie to fill your pockets with money.
What species of humanity are you?
Whatever kind you are, you don't worry us.
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Paris, le 09.10.2004
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick - 25.10.2004
(Note: Soul to Soul presents this fine poem and others
in the spirit of communicating freely to increase understanding,
not to cater to any agenda or offend any nationality.)
Categories:
mccormick, people, social,
Form:
Haiku
When you get bored
Go at the edge of the Seine
Be the friend of swans
Divide some bread into pieces
To throw to them!
Don't be in charge of shippers
Letters remain in consciousness
By dancing northward
Consider bottles
Carried away by fluxes...
Never present yourself
Instead of others
Don't conform to others either
Rest as you are...
The art that is contained in you develops
I cannot say to you 'rest in the night'.
Impose your existence
Like a rose
On the pages of society
In the mirror of a page
And in the middle of a mirror
I cannot say to you 'rest in the night'.
Pretend not to see
The cold winds which pass
Near to you
Drink the sun
Dispel your sadness
Burn griefs one after another...
I cannot say to you " rest in the night ".
Hardly believe what you hear
Weigh all that you see
Review all that you learn
Speak of your feelings
only to those you like
I cannot say to you 'rest in the night'.
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Bruxelles, le 05.11.2005
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick, 06.03.2006
Categories:
mccormick, love, music, nostalgia,
Form:
Haiku
"Spiteful Minds"
by~ Edward McCormick
Disdainfully negotiating gain,
The spiteful mind their heart's desire alone.
An obvious destruction they attain
Through dialogue with underlying tone.
A tiny drama brings about an end.
In spite of mind, the heart wants what it bleeds.
Enlightenment is key to comprehend
So very little satisfies our needs.
by~ Poet Destroyer
Heavy and alone, two "Spiteful minds",
The worthless moments in the skies.
With no reasons and why's!
The warning sounds of midnight, thick and blind,
Giving our hearts away, a solid sign.
Wicked taste mountains of lies.
Satisfaction In our breathing eye's.
Waiting for our gushing needs to land unwind;
Stiff like the blood beneath the sea.
"Spiteful minds" rising beyond to morbid moon.
Destruction in the slowness of ones purity
The world, is a gift one prolongs to see.
A music box with no tune.
Needing and spending, we lay in spiteful tears of misery.
a collaboration with * Edward McCormick
Categories:
mccormick, confusion,
Form:
Sonnet
We live in strange times, my brother
men make money
with war dances
and occupation...
Do you not see the bombardments
and the pillaging?
Under the boot
you are worn out,
these days
the sweat of your brow
no longer serves you!
Tanks come from distant lands
passing down your streets
demanding to know
why you were born!
And you can say nothing.
Soon, if this continues,
it will be the course of progress
to be denied learning.
One speaks of the rights of man
here and there.
Do not believe those rumors!
You see that nothing is in place now!
We live in strange times my brother,
arms dealing,
construction
governing the land.
Is it so difficult to understand?
They sell the merchandise of war!
Come listen to my counsel.
Don't marry, it is unsupportable
to suffer the massacre of your children.
The success of your affairs depends
on producing fictitious enemies
to menace...
In this manner
they take over small countries
one after the other
under the pretext of saving them.
While you fight amongst yourselves
others consume your underground resources.
What should I tell you;
do these times plant sorrow
in your hearts?
Be a little understanding!
Increase the number of fratricidal wars,
divide your people further
to make the lives of the invaders easier.
Do not forget that to destroy love
requires only this:
Live in a society without love
and don't educate anyone...
Live in the clarity of obscurity,
depend only on yourself!
The sun rises and sets on time...
the throats of cocks are cut
that sing before the hour!
We live in strange times my brother,
men make money with war dances
and occupation...
Do you not see the bombardments
and the pillaging?
By Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Paris - 17.03.2003
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick - 2003
Categories:
mccormick, inspirational, nostalgia, social, war,
Form:
Haiku
I love your acsent' it makes me want to kiss you!
16 fillet catfish/ or seabass
1/4 cup of McCormick seasoning
2 Tablespoons of garlic powder
2 Tablespoons of onion powder
3 tablespoons of cayenne pepper
mix well and set aside
1/2 cup of olive oil
1/2 melted butter
1/4 cup lime juice
coat both sides of each fillet with oil and butter
sprinkle seasoning atop
bake in a 350 degree oven until fish are flakey and done
8 cups of cooked cous cous( soaked in 1 cup of buttermilk)
3 cups of goats cheese
2 cups of heavy cream
2 cups of béchamel sauce
1/2 melted butter
1/2 cup of fresh chives
5 tablespoons of crushed garlic
2 cup of oven roasted turkey bacon ( cook into bits)
1/3 cup of diced fine green peppers (sautéed)
1/3 cup of crushed sun dried tomatoes
12/3 saute'd onion
1 & 1/2 cup of white cheddar
2 tablespoons of red pepper flakes
combine ingredients and bake for 25 minutes
slice fillets from a leg of lamb
about twenty slices
salt and pepper
grill (medium rare)
in a pan combine
1/3 cup of beef broth
1 cup of pomegranate juice
1/4 cup of honey
1/4 cup of lime juice
5 tablespoons of chopped rosemary
3 tablespoons of cayenne pepper
1/3 cup of sweet red wine
1 cup of unsalted pistachios
reduce sauce about half
add lamb and serve
FOR DESSERT
5 CUPS OF BROWNIE MIXED ( MIXED USING BOX RECIPE)
4 CUPS OF ANGEL FOOD ( USING BOX RECIPE)
24 DOLLOPS OF CREAM CHEESE
IN A GREASED NON-STICK MUFFIN PAN, SPOON IN TWO TABLE SPOONS OF BROWNIE MIX
AND LAYER IT WITH THE ANGEL FOOD MIX, (ABOUT 2 TABLESPOONS)
HALFWAY FULL ADD CREAM CHEESE
COVER WITH BROWNIE AND ANGEL FOOD MIX
BAKE UNTIL DONE, USING A TOOTH PICK TO CHECK
COOL MUFFINS, TOP WITH FAVORITE FROSTING AND SERVE
IN
WE BASSOON'D THE FOOD WAS DONE: SO WE ATE IT!
WE DRUMMED AND OBO'D THRU THE NIGHT
ASSUMING WE WOODWIND: WE DID!
WE DID !
Categories:
mccormick, food, music,
Form:
Ballade
Today I shall choose one of you
A child on whom falls a shadow, wedged in a corner between lines...
A daisy bringing us some suffering from his home
Silent in the middle of a blue turning grey, a button of a rose without anyone in the
mass of it...
A living being full of secrets, the heart of which spreads light
While the sun continues running into water, the headlights of space fall in front of
him one after another...
Say so if you have problems!
If you are part of a life full of black points, blended in the night, encircled with
ruddy colours, show yourselves...
I know that your security guards do not self-protect
In spite of the reins of ice on your ways, in which the identity of humans melt, can
you determine your destination?
Are you ready children?
Today I shall choose one of you
A child on whom falls a shadow, wedged in a corner between lines...
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Paris, 20.12.2003
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick, 08.10.2005
Categories:
mccormick, love, music, nostalgia, child,
Form:
Haiku
Without making you feel at all
In lands very distant from you
I raised flowers which you like
I know
I left you by yourself
With unforgettable memories...
Every so often
You felt uneasy
Because of my badly digested words
You stayed sleepless...
During successive days
I dragged you towards mornings without a sun
I was in these pages.
I hurt you with touching songs which I liked
I touched you with my poems
Again and again, I drenched you
With my feelings...
I was in these pages.
I often took you for walks
On the most populated streets
Of Istanbul
With your heart beating
Your beliefs and acknowledgments moulded time
Behind blurred window panes...
I was in these pages.
The sky was different
Light was acid
Avenues were without people
Streets were without soul
When I lost you
In the stopping of a bus...
I was in these pages.
I made you wait until mornings
On the streets of Istanbul
I made you tremble in full jolts while you dreamed
During your sighs I threw your shades
Into seas
On blank pages I wrote that I love you...
I made your drawings
On all the walls of the city...
I was in these pages.
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Francfort, le 05.04.1980
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick, 06.03.2006
Categories:
mccormick, love, music,
Form:
Haiku
The hunter has become a guide for the birds,
his two faces
against two wings.
He has chopped down trees
to make a post
with small dried branches
for the birds to roost.
He has broken off flowers
to decorate this small tree
to cheer the birds.
He has put small stones
and large grains of wheat
on plates
so that the birds can eat.
He has constructed
posts with pencils
and towers with posts
from the ruins of the towers
so that the birds can take cover.
He has appended signatures,
each one different,
on dry leaves
with his two faces,
no one noticing.
After some time,
chasing the birds one by one,
he blows like a wind,
saying that judges and prosecutors
are his friends.
The birds, like many others,
quickly understand
and when the time is ripe
they emigrate
exchanging one thing for another,
finding another country,
agreeable people, trees,
grains of wheat on plates
and flowers of all colors...
while living peacefully there,
the hunter is of two faces
against two wings.
by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Mantes la Ville - 1998
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick
Categories:
mccormick, inspirational, nostalgia, people,
Form:
Haiku
In Chicago, my summer of '70 was spent working with a program seeking to rescue drug addicts, alcoholics, and street gangs. The following
summer of '71, found me on the convention floor at the McCormick Place in Chicago where I was a counselor providing guidance and spiritual instructions
for those who had accepted Christ as their savior at the Billy Graham Crusade. In May of '72, I was graduating from a Bible College in Chicago. In June of '72
on a Saturday noon, I was saying "I do" at the altar of a church and by next morning I was on our honeymoon in Central Wisconsin. By the Fall of '74, I
could be found in the Mississippi Delta pioneering a little church and during missionary work among the children in the community. I also had a job doing
social work among the senior citizens in that rural farming community. This is also where I was when a peanut farmer, Jimmy Carter, became President of
the U.S. in 1976. After driving 2000 miles across the country, life continued on the fast moving track and found me on the Streets of San Francisco in the Fall
of '78. Not long after arriving, my attention was glued to the San Francisco Chronicle and the local television stations bringing fresh and up to the minute
news of The People Temple, its leader Jim Jones, and the mass suicides in Guiana, South America. Then there was the assassination of the San Francisco
mayor and a supervisor and the riot that followed. In the fall of '79, there was the 'Iranian Hostage Crisis" and take-over of the American Embassy.
02212018PSContest,Honorable Mentions Contest Worth Mentioning, Richard L.
Categories:
mccormick, america, chicago, christian,
Form:
Couplet
The pain first took hold of my wrists
In the heart within my heart
My sweet children
Took their first steps.
Rain drips on the windows
There is that which comes
From far away
With hands in handcuffs
I do not know the day or year of humanity...
Stars shine
Thanks to drops falling from trees
The moon springs tight a trap on my pessimism
For a night...
The pain first took hold of my wrists
In the heart within my heart
My sweet children
Took their first steps.
Copyright © Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Bor, 18.08.1974
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick, 10.08.2005
Categories:
mccormick, inspirational, love, nostalgia, social,
Form:
Haiku
In the valley of the culprits
be patient.
Remain planted on your legs
to be struck
by the newcomers and leaving them
never look behind you,
so that each one can see
the hairstyle on the nape of your neck.
In the valley of the culprits
while insults fuse
do not say anything, especially
make like the nightingale which ate a blackberry
while the human one depreciates.
The bump at the end of your nose
must not have an impact on your spirit.
Know that your language burns if you eat while pricking
and your backyard burns if you speak bitterly.
Above all
forget your mother, and your father.
It is not necessary to worry about their fate
or that they are weakened physically
and drag themselves along.
Do not say anything.
Drop...
Let your efforts break down.
Let the mast be reversed...
Carry on your way simpering.
If you see a fallen friend
above all have no feeling
no pity
and if you have envy, give him another kick.
Do you know that nobody is thinking of you at this moment?
If you come across a large turkey
cut its throat without saying anything to anybody
and eat it!
Have no panic, remain still
where you are well hidden!
In any event
You are in the valley of the culprits.
You will be viewed badly if you work much.
You will be driven out if you speak the truth.
You will be crushed
if you go the way of love.
You will be beaten in various ways
if you resist tyranny.
You know
that there are things not to be neglected.
In any event
you are in the valley of the culprits
Be pitiless!
You know that integration is spoken about uniquely,
that at least your indentity card is like theirs.
One demands it from you insistently.
If in spite of all you do not like
all that I have just said
do what you want, act according to your desires
as well as your accomplishments.
One never knows
Perhaps you will be accepted!
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Paris, le 04.11.2004
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick – 05.12.2004
Categories:
mccormick, people,
Form:
Haiku
She cannot keep a job; she has had several. Anger issues.
Cannot spell or write either, or be nice, but those are secondary problems.
Showed up at ten, was supposed to be there at 7:45; always good excuses.
Creative anyway.
Wanted them to give her a recommendation; highly angry at them for not doing it.
Called them prejudiced. They hate the Irish! She told me. Wait, their names are McCormick.
She tried to find another job from the luxury of her bed, circled lots of them in the paper.
Did not make the phone calls though; the valium she was taking for her perpetual migraines held her off.
What about the children? Her neighbors ask her. She was too ill to worry about them.
They were six, eight, ten and twelve, time for them to get jobs and take care of her. Right?
The school bought them Christmas presents, and she was furious they would not give her receipts.
Complained because they were not even getting a turkey for Thanksgiving, so her neighbor brought her one.
That damned social worker was really mad on the first when she realized the turkey had never been cooked.
She did not have a computer or anything. They should have brought her one that was cooked anyway.
That was on them. The crumby neighbor is pounding on her door again. She opens one eye.
Damned kids must have forgotten their keys. She can keep them for a while, she thinks. I am sick.
As she falls back to sleep, she wonders what will become of her, who will take care of her?
Why has this happened to her? Her uterus moves in a little hop like way, a happy baby this time.
Thank god. The other ones are always wanting something, begging for stuff, complaining.
Maybe this one will be the one who makes the difference. She pats her tummy and smiles.
Maybe she has a good one in there, this time.
Her eyes close.
Categories:
mccormick, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Narrative