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Chicago Prose Poems

These Chicago Prose poems are examples of Prose poems about Chicago. These are the best examples of Prose Chicago poems written by international poets.


The Kindness
The sun
sliding toward the west on a ruby strip,
the tired sky sighs
sunlight bouquets,
open dawns from dawn
they start to draw their shutters,
from the subway, a great...

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Categories: prose, america, business, chicago, poetry,



The cycle of the Genesis
The same mask
firmly held on the face
with a strong wrist,
no chills, no regrets, no shaking!
Nights in turn I wondered,
what is hidden behind the mask,
to discover:...

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Categories: prose, 8th grade, america, appreciation,

Premium Member STUCK ON BELIEFS Gives me the Creeps
STUCK ON BE LIE FS
Gives me the Creeps

People Laugh and get "tickled pink" when I respond to them by saying "I have forgotten more than...

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Categories: prose, community, creation, deep, emotions,

Chicago
Chicago.
Wish you were here.
Walk with me in my heart, My Love...

I was expecting more noise on a Saturday night,
But the wind wasn't even up.
(I was...

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Categories: prose, chicago, funny, music, night,

Premium Member Gangs Owned The Block
I started my teaching career in a Chicago middle school as a sub.
Our cars were locked up so they would not be vandalized during the...

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Categories: prose, perspective,

Later That Summer
                        ...

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Categories: prose, anxiety, emotions, lost love,

Premium Member All Aboard
   Who suggests a trip back...rides to this bit of nostalgia in the middle years of the Great Depression aboard a Chicago elevated...

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Categories: city, imagery, perspective,



Where Is Clark Street
                        ...

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Categories: prose, addiction, america, care, chicago,

Chicago Fire Of '68
I clocked out and headed for home before the darkness came.
From the street bus I witnessed mayhem, and felt so strange.
Like the actions of an...

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Categories: prose, america, anger, community, hero,

City Kids
From New York City to LA; New Orleans to Chicago and Minneapolis             ...

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Categories: prose, abuse, america, chicago, children,

Call a Priest, My Father Said
My father never talked much about religion but he went to Mass every Sunday, the 6:30 Mass where few people would be and he wouldn’t...

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Categories: christian,

Child Reading a Magazine
Jack, age 6, loves the iPad he uses in kindergarten. He already navigates the net to some degree. But when he accompanied his father to...

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Categories: computer,

Long Before ISIS
Thirty years ago, long before ISIS started executing Kurds, Muslims and Christians, I hired a Pakistani Muslim as an art director in Chicago. I was...

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Categories: friendship,

An Affective Disorder, the Doctor Said
No, Freddie can’t say he mourned when his father died and his father’s third wife found Freddie's number and gave him a call to give...

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Categories: anxiety, mental illness, ,

Hubert Might Go Upstairs But Not To Rome
Tea in the afternoon with his wife of many years is usually peaceful, Hubert thinks before he makes his announcement. Then he says it. 

"I'm...

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Categories: marriage,

A Trick My Father Learned in Prison
I’m not saying my father hated the English, God forbid. If he were still alive, he’d hate to hear me say that. He’d correct me...

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Categories: ireland, prison, war,

Strangers in Peoria
I met a proper woman in a proper pub on a Monday in Peoria. It was noon, time for lunch, and we were sitting stool...

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Categories: break up,

Caseworker, 1962
In 1962, I was a caseworker, not a social worker, in the Cabrini-Green Housing Project in Chicago. In that era, the difference between a caseworker...

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Categories: poverty,

America Wasn't So Bad Back Then
We have something in common, a fellow I talk to now and then. We’re about the same age and perhaps the only ones in the...

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Categories: america,

My Parents Were Illegal Immigrants in the United States
In 1920, my father, 16, was a guest of the British government. He was a prisoner of their forces occupying Ireland at the time, a...

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Categories: america, immigration,