Long Iowa Poems
Long Iowa Poems. Below are the most popular long Iowa by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Iowa poems by poem length and keyword.
(A bit of fun for Thomas W. Case - I think he lives in Iowa)
Hawkeye pride burns bright in Iowa City,
the place where Tennessee Williams learned to curse.
Iowa City hosts the 4th of July, Iowa speedway race, unique perhaps
because the cars have to stay behind a tractor for the first 199 laps.
How polite are the people in Iowa City? I saw a news report where a man was mugged,
traumatic? Sure, but the man still remembered to say “Thank you” before the perp bugged.
There are over twenty-six churches here, people can be a bit pious and obnoxiously reflective.
There’s a Hawkeye infestation in Iowa City because of the university, classified as ‘moderately selective.’
Geographically, Iowa’s where the rolling plains meet a limestone rise.*
Did I mention that the bars close at 2am? A travesty in any serious drinker’s eyes.
Some noted authors came from Iowa City, the locals are proud of that and own it.
Most were playwrights and novelists, luckily, few of them turned out to be poets.
* whatever that is
note...
We’re in Paris (Peter and I) at the Régis oyster bar. We just polished off a dozen oysters (each) and we ordered "Plateau de fruits de mer" (a seafood platter) and they’re taking forEVER to bring it. Peter’s reading a book. “Mind if I.. ?” he’d asked. I looked at the cover, which read, "Heavy Quark Physics." ick.
So I pulled out my iPad and Thomas W. Case - a poet far above my station had, once again, lavished my latest piece “Brilliant and Wonderful,” (which I seriously doubted). But it inspired me to pen this (while we waited) - his poet page says he’s from Iowa. (5 minutes research on Iowa and 5 minutes to write.)
Ooo! Here comes our platter - bye!
I'M SUCH A BEAUTIFUL GIRL--
I’m such a beautiful girl;
Why must I be enthrone;
Control in such an ungodly peril;
Ugliness, hell bend on sin;
Is the promises of beings;
Satan has a key, but I don’t want it;
I do have a plea,
I shall run from it;
I want to be a safe-saved child of the King;
I want to see my God in peace;
Such a lonely child;
Living in an evil world;
I do have a plea,
I shall run from it;
I want to be a safe-saved child of the King
I have a right to live eternally;
But until that day comes;
I am gonna serve God;
I’m such a beautiful girl;
Living in a sinful world;
My mama’s gone, she died of cancer;
My daddy to is dead;
He was the only one I had left;
I do have a plea,
I shall run from it;
I want to be a safe-saved child of the King;
I want to see my God in peace;
Such a lonely child;
Living in an evil world;
I do have a plea,
I shall run from it;
I want to be a safe-saved child of the King
I have a right to live eternally;
But until that day comes;
I am gonna serve God;
Control in such an ungodly peril;
I am saved and I choose not to be involved in this world…this cause Why?
I’m such a beautiful girl;
And I belong to the Lord and God;
1/26/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2019
INSPIRED BY AN "Winter Jam Concert" attendance in Council Bluffs Iowa 1/24/ 2019
Lacona, Iowa, 1938.
a chicken coop is on fire at 5 a.m.
eight year old sees it, puts down feed bucket,
walks back to house on autopilot.
Her name is Lucille.
She sits down for breakfast
with her family of nine.
She is the third oldest of the girls.
No one notices her blanched face
or her dumbstruck silence at first
As they begin to eat.
She eats in silence.
Her mother asks, “What is the matter Lucille?”
In a deadpan voice, a voice none of them have ever heard,
a voice deep within the bowels of confusion and shock
Lucille says “the chicken coop is on fire.”
I have heard this story many times.
It is never funny.
The chicken coop fire being such a trauma
for my mother, Lucille.
She was the best teacher ever born in our county, a tiny woman with a giant adventurous soul.
Miss Fizzle from Magic School bus was probably designed after someone met Miss Raggletoots.
Okay it is not her real name but I cannot give you the true name of this scallywag, for it
would be notoriously rude to tell the truth, and the truth is what we need here
For the sheer fun of it, and the faster moving along of this tale, I must let you know that
I was in the sixth grade, in a small, boring, eight-nine percent uptight, rule-following, Iowa farm town when I met Mrs. Raggletoots.
She was a science teacher which may sound boring to those who have not met her,
But she was a
Scoundrel,
A knave,
A rogue,
And she did nothing by the book, did not attend church, did not wave to mean people, did not respect bullies, did not adhere to social norms of any kind, and cared in no way about laws or rules.
Under her jurisdiction, we blew up toys, we blew up chairs, and we learned the ways of a wood chopper, We happy sixth graders chopped up umbrellas, and flower boxes, and books – especially non-fiction books about etiquette, and women’s places and stuff.
The only books we did not chop were the science books, as by this time we were all falling in love with science.
And we did all kinds of other renegade stuff,
Because she wanted to show us
How science could be fun.
You are a rapscallion, the principal
said, yelling at her with a mean face.
Two of us were worried, and we told our parents, but
They assured us that he would probably not get rid of
The favorite-est science teacher we have ever had because of our track record.
He did not dare fire her,
Because although
She was a scoundrel,
I breathe enjoyment from
the senses that God bestowed on me.
With the gift of sight I find joy
taking in scenes of sunset splendor;
catching sight of random rainbows,
the prettiest of which I’ve noted
arching over waves of Iowa grain;
gazing into the adoring eyes of my beloved;
and on happening to glance anything
bright or beautiful to behold.
With the gift of hearing,
I delight in the cries of glee
of my grandchildren
tearing open Christmas presents.
I discover incredible information
listening to videos and
learning from the students I teach,
whose own differing cultures and traditions
enlighten me more about the world.
I glean pleasure from sounds of nature:
the rumble of water gushing down mountain cliffs;
the rippling of rivers and ocean tides;
the call of pretty birds in spring;
the meow of a tiny kitten;
and my mind sways in rhythm
to the music on my radio.
With the gift of voice, I happily sing
the lyrics to my favorite tunes.
With my mouth I also relish my sweetheart’s kiss.
I take pleasure too in savoring spicy foods
that make my taste buds pop
or in tasting the cold deliciousness
of ice cream on my tongue.
With the gift of smell,
I capture whiffs of fragrant flowers
and aromatic perfumes.
I know the petrichor left by rain,
and I scent my mother’s bread and lasagna
baking on a Sunday afternoon.
With the gifts of touch and feeling,
I can fling myself into waves of sea
in joyful abandon,
feeling the sea fresh and crisp
and the sun so warm and inviting
on my skin.
I can feel soft sand beneath
my feet while walking hand in hand
with my sweetheart’s fingers stroking mine
and anticipate the wonderment
of his tender caresses in the night.
The greatest bestowal of God on us all
is the sense of feeling
that does not physically touch us.
This final gift, which I revel in,
lies in the many moments
brought about
when the heart is beautifully touched
by happenstance from any of the other senses.
These are the moments engraved forever in our
personal and collective memories.
In the end, we all have been so blessed
to have a body that brings joy to the spirit.
Thus, also I breathe gratitude.
Dear Old Ken,
Hello there, how are you doing today? I hope you’re doing good, sitting in the past of my life. I knew that letting you control me would end up in a massive war between us, like World War II starting again. There are, however, things you cannot control. Want to know those things? Here I’ll tell you.
Back in your days, motivation and being a leader wasn’t on your “To-Do” list, but it’s on mine. Becoming a poet and a successful writer wasn’t on your list either, but still, it’s on mine. You, Old Ken, never wanted to be successful, nor wanted to become a better person! In your mindset, going place to place, group home to group home, Nebraska to Iowa and back, and most importantly, going from happy to angry really quick would make you feel strong and powerful! BOY YOU’RE WRONG!
Going place to place, group home to group home, becoming happy to angry was only you back. Guess what, look whose standing now! Who is making every day count and whose becoming more successful, you or I? By the looks of it and all of the accomplishments, I’m being more successful! Here, let me explain how;
1. I am a published author with ten poems in my school (which probably you don’t care for)
2. Every teacher and family member has confidence in me succeeding in life (which you don’t care for either)
3. I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ for Later-Day Saints. Lastly,
4. I am graduating this December of 2016.
You see, Old Ken that everyone can change if they are willing to put in the effort 100% of their energy. So, I am leaving you with a piece of advice that you will probably hate: GROW UP AND BECOME A MAN!!!
-From
New Ken
Rose early, dressed fast.
quick grocery store run
already eight-one degrees. glad car has air.
brought home fresh vegetables
out of someone else’s garden
feeling weird about that
When I was a child we all had gardens
shared produce with our neighbors
at the clothes lines, no fence lines
free range people where I grew up
small town southern Iowa
poorest dirt in the state
Delabettas had corn and tomatoes first.
Edna across the street brought over radishes and carrots
Our mother took gardening seriously.
We were out on a real farm in the country
from six to ten every morning.
We had an excess of everything.
The Pelligrinos brought over their watermelon,
which was always a treat.
And the Ingrams had pumpkins, but later,
more toward autumn
None of us would have bought fresh vegetables
out of someone else’s garden.
It would have seemed weird.
~Glenn Miller~
(acrostic)
G-lenn Miller, his music is so wonderfully sublime, enchanting.
L-istening to his "Moonlight Serenade" makes me think of love so tender.
E-ndless joy, in my heart, his music always brings to me. His given
N-ame was, Alton Glenn Miller. He was born in Clarinda, Iowa, U.S.
N-otoriously, performed the trombone.His Glenn Miller Orchestra is divine.
M-usician, arranger, composer, and great band leader in the swing era.
I-n The Mood", is onother one of my favorite music pieces of his to this day.
L-ittle Brown Jug" "American Patrol" "Tuxedo Junction" and so many more, his
L-egacy is filled of of so much dancing and romance under a moonlit and stars.
E-ntertaining the troops was something very close to his heart. Glenn Miller,
R-emains one of the most famous and recognizable names of the big band era.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2015
July.22.2016
Author's notes:
My humble poem tribute to one of the greatest and most
unique bandleaders of the big band era, Glenn Miller.
One of my very favorite band leaders I personally
love and enjoy hearing the most.I listen to his music
for many years now.And I believe that theres no one like him,
his music can never be duplicated by anyone.
His beautiful music just transcends time and space, forever.
(Born March 1, 1904- Missing December 15,1944)
Years active 1923-1944
In 2003 Miller, received a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award.
His plane dissapeared while flying over the English Channel.
His remains and that of his crew has never been found.
Miller's status is missing in action up to this date.
Long live the King of Swing!
Melodic truth resonates from this one
That one is dour, and dank
A jazziness parades out of the next one
I should stop reading but I can’t
Because reading poetry is the highlight
Of my otherwise dreary, ugly, cheap day.
One more, I promise myself.
But I read ten more.
Two make me laugh,
One brings me nearly to tears.
I would have cried but the author
Added a note that it was not real.
I do not like it when they do that.
I am in a great mood now.
Eating my cookies, parading through poem after poem.
I am getting lighter and happier.
I turn into a butterfly.
Drift out of my heart onto a delicate pink rose.
Off with her head! I feel my head rolling.
Mississippi, Kentucky, Iowa, Nebraska.
I am traveling the states now.
But even they cannot bring me back to this realm.
I am in floating into the trees now.
Okay guys, here's a tricky little riddle
Name the states with only four letters?
Careful now, it's a tricky one
Don't want to ruffle any feathers!
The real obvious ones are as follows...
There's Ohio, Iowa, and Utah
Believe me, there's actually seven more
I'll bet you think it's a flaw!
Trust me there's actually seven others
Don't you look at the bottom notes
Till you've given it your very best shot
No one's going to call you a dope!
© Jack Ellison 2013
(Scroll down)
Here's the other seven
Alabama – a,l,b,m
Mississippi – m,i,s,p
Kansas – k,a,n,s
Hawaii – h,a,w,i
Indiana – i,n,d,a
Tennessee – t,e,n,s
Alaska – a,l,s,k
I told you it was tricky!!!