POEM: A Corny Poem — Owed To Iowa

He was feeling it
In a corny state
The mother of corn starch
In the thick of it
A sweet mother
High on fructose
Full of it
As lots of feed
In feedlots
Of walking meat
But it was my job
To make fun
Of corn

I recently returned from a road trip out to Iowa to visit relatives, some of whom are corn farmers.  I couldn’t resist this corny poem, one of two corn poems written on this trip.  I wrote over 25 poems on this eight-day trip, setting a new personal record of nine poems in one day, the first day.  Riding (and waiting for) the bus offered ample time for writing.  The Megabus earned two specific poems and inspired a third poem about corporate incompetence and poor customer service.  Quite predictably, cell phone and electronic gadget noise pollution garnered a couple of poems as well.  Plus, there are the omnipresent self-indulgent poems about poetry or being a poet.  The muse, rather than taking a vacation, is far more liable to hook up with me on vacation, loving open times and spaces to work her magic.  A poet is always on duty.  I am delighted to have the vocation of poet alongside my other 24/7 jobs, such as running an e-commerce web site and being a blood donor.  Fortunately, I can do several jobs in my sleep!  Stay tuned for more lodes of crop in coming weeks!

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