Poetry Night at the Writing Life, 24 September 2023
About traveling, being Iowan, and returning to the river.
A little while ago, I decided to share some exclusive, somewhat new poetry with you my readers. If you remember, one of the poems was free for all, the other one was for my paid subscribers.
Poetry Night at the Writing Life, 20 August 2023
I’ve heard some advice from fellow writers and others that it can often be a good idea to provide freebies, so to speak, to drum up interest in your writing. I also know you have to provide something of value to those willing to lay their money down for paid subscriptions.
I’ve decided to keep trying to do this at least on a monthly basis. One poem for all of you, and one for my loyal subscribers. Shall we?
[At some point, I might have to put out A Writer’s Biography story about how I sort of got peer pressured into starting poetry by one of my former writing groups.]
Both of these poems are fresh off the page, so to speak, and both were inspired by a road trip this weekend to the southeastern corner of Iowa I took with my wife.
The first poem was inspired by my visit to the American Gothic house in little Eldora, Iowa. I’ve been considering the fact I have never attended a session of the Iowa State Fair might make me somewhat less than an ideal Iowan, so perhaps this experience slightly redeems me.
The second one is inspired by a reunion of sorts on the trip when I saw a big part of my growing up and my home. And I took pictures as well. 🙂
A Visit to the American Gothic House
24 September 2023, Chariton, Iowa
Tucked away in a pocket field
On the other side of a farm-town neighborhood
Off by its lonesome, guarded by trees,
Was the American Gothic house.
I’d seen it on the famous canvas in Chicago
But you really don’t get the measure of a house
In paintings and memes.
It wasn’t a shack
Or a shed you get from the local farm store.
It was a “tiny house” a century before people started to mention the phrase
Tiny House
Because after a century of growth people started to wonder
Whether we all really needed or wanted mansions.
All I knew was it had been someone’s home, their heart, their sanctuary
And it inspired one of the most famous cultural snapshots of my home state.
The thing I noticed the most
(Other than the house)
Was the collection of native wildflowers and prairie grass growing
Nearby the visitor’s center
To show Iowans what most of their state looked like
Before “Iowans.”
I remember walking alongside that tall explosion
Of greens and other subtle colors
And trying to picture an entire state looking like this
And thinking it must have looked like paradise
Shame they plowed most of it up.
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