POEM: A Corny Poem — Owed To Iowa

He was feeling it
In a corny
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
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 written on this trip.  I wrote over 25 on this eight-day trip, setting a new personal record of nine in one day, the first day.  Riding (and waiting for) the bus offered ample for writing.  The Megabus earned two specific poems and inspired a third poem about corporate incompetence and customer service.  Quite predictably, cell phone and electronic gadget noise garnered a couple of poems as well.  Plus, there are the omnipresent self-indulgent poems about or being a .  The , rather than taking a vacation, is far more liable to hook up with me on vacation, loving open times and spaces to her magic.  A is always on duty.  I am delighted to have the of alongside my other 24/7 , such as running an e-commerce web site and being a blood donor.  Fortunately, I can do several in my !  Stay tuned for more lodes of crop in coming weeks!

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