Stepping into one hundred degrees of morning haze
Wanting the sun to burn it all down in a fiery raze
'Til all the corn stalks are set to a glowing blaze
Then, rains can come across the plains; turning it to a syrupy glaze
Oh, how I loved these humidity infused summer days
They take me back to youth waking early; to enjoy my plays
I missed the first half of my life; when time seemed to have these endless ways
For adulting means its time to teach my littles how to navigate the craze
Also, to savor the moments 'til their fate reaches this phase
Who knew parenting was just guiding mice through the stands of maize?
It burned up our best corn field
Now we've no crops this year to yield
Peculiar, it was never set ablaze
Yesterday they were fully intact
Perhaps an extraterrestrial act
The idea leaves me in a daze
Unfinished circles all throughout
I cannot find my way about
Trapped amidst a maize maze
Aliens with a sense of humor
And maybe it is just a rumor
A brewery appeared in a haze
This puzzle solved is not too hard
As that was in the neighbor's yard
And he farms barley anyways
The pig farm way on down the road
Had bacon rain on their abode
Now it's the farmer who does graze
Rowan Atkinson somehow materialized
At the bean farm, looking pretty surprised
For that one, I give alien's high praise
For me though, the Martian joke is done
As it seems I'm forever stuck in a pun
Crazed in the maize, for the rest of my days
March 20, 2023
Writing Challenge "M" Words Poetry contest
Sponsor : Constance La France
A woman who works shucking corn
Tells jokes that are Iowan born
Just lend her an ear
And you're bound to hear
How colonels can milk a French horn
I
Quetzalcoatl was great, maybe not so good
The generous mother was "Maiz Deo"
Ancient Mexicans built their chinampas
The Lake in Tenochtitlan had tall bunkbeds
With squashes and beans, to feed thousands
But when Maiz Deo gave them corn, they soared
Population, fame, wealth, but also wars
(Not as bad as modern wars, but it got bad)
Three Sisters got together always, to bless:
Corn, Bean, Squash intertwined their bodies
To dance and sing and grow the harvests
II
Our Mexican mothers, Maya and Aztec, Olmec and Tolmec
Then gave us the taste of heaven: tortillas
The Corn was mashed, and made into flour
They find stones - both flat and round - to grind the grains
And today I hear the familiar jingles of TACO BELL
And the ka-ching, ka-ching of dollars and cents
As we take leave of common sense and over-do it all
Never thanking the Mother we all share: Nature,
who has always given and given. She can't give anymore
I adore this corn which you call maize,
In my hand its cob I hold my eyes dilated in paraphrase,
In my mouth its offsprings I chew,
My teeth gliding through a well arranged maze,
Fresh corn harbours that distinct taste,
My people brew it into beer and your brain is laced,
Folks in the west indies worship it as a deity of no replace,
So wonderful with rice that its last grain do I trace,
Corn beer drank from a human skull did my ancestors need, to embark on a
battle race,
Grandmum loves it so much with peas that she dishes it out to us as her ace,
I have drank ginger ale but when presented with corn ale I took it on as a study
case,
Its flour has sometimes kept me on for days,
If you have drank custard you will hear what the corn says,
On the west African slave ships corn was men's source of strength and grace,
Eating cornbread is so enjoyable adding beauty to its pace,
Oh! I must have over drunk from this flagon of corn-ale behold the gaze on my
face.
I adore this corn which you call maize,
In my hand its cob I hold my eyes dilated in paraphrase,
In my mouth its offsprings I chew,
My teeth gliding through a well arranged maze,
Fresh corn harbours that distinct taste,
My people brew it into beer and your brain is laced,
Folks in the west indies worship it as a deity of no replace,
So wonderful with rice that the last grain do I trace,
Corn beer drank from a human skull did my ancestors need to embark on a
battle race,
Grandmum loves it so much with peas that she dishes it out to us as her ace,
I have drank ginger ale but when presented with corn ale I took it on as a study
case,
Its flour has sometimes kept me on for days,
If you have drank custard you will hear what the corn says,
On the west African slave ships corn was men's source of strength and grace,
Eating cornbread is so enjoyable adding beauty to its pace,
Oh! I must have over drunk from this flagon of corn-ale behold the gaze on my
face.
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