Hi, everyone, it’s Poetry Night.
As I’ve mentioned in this space previously, the final steps to bring my latest book, The Yank Striker’s Journey, have occupied much of my mental capacity that hasn’t been drained off by the end of the school year. It’s a bit difficult to write poetry during these times.
If You’re Interested in my Poetry Here… You Might Want to Check Out Some More
My first collection of poetry is out now.
Since Substack doesn’t quite have the setup for this, I’ve set up something here at Liegois Media. I set up my own Internet storefront page where you can order my chapbook for $6 per copy. This is the link, as is the one below.
The first poem tonight was inspired by a conversation I heard the main character of one of my new projects have with his son. I ended up feeding into the themes of recent poems I’ve written, so I decided to go with it.
What Your River Was Like
Fort Madison, Iowa, 23 May 2025
The boy asked me
What My River was like
I had to think
Because I’d not seen it in years.
There’s a river where we live
We’ve guided our boat down with the flow
But it’s not like My River.
This river is open, framed by surrounding mountains
And the cityscape
My River ambled through the wetlands,
Absorbed the throbbing summer heat
Muddy waters hiding, teeming with life.
I love to take my boy out on the river
But when we glide across the waters
I keep thinking about My River
Where I’ll never return
I wonder if My River would give me as much peace
As it does in my memories.
The second poem was inspired by a recent loss. Shortly after my most recent Poetry Night post, I learned that a close writing acquaintance of mine, Rodney Reeves, passed away after dealing with some health issues. He was a fellow member of the Burlington, Iowa, Society of Great River Poets, which I recently joined. He was a published poet, and at the time of his death was an officer with the Iowa Poetry Association. I can’t claim to have known him as well as many of his friends – we only got to know each other during the past few years of his life. But he was a welcoming presence at Great River Poets meetings who encouraged my initial fumbling with working in verse. I will miss him.
Thanks for the Words (Verse for Rodney)
Fort Madison, Iowa, 23 May 2025
I’ll always remember you sitting there
With a halo of gray hair and a warm smile
Always glad to see me and all the others
Who came to share their words.
You always had a joke,
Or an old music story
I remember how delighted you were
To see the new film about Dylan.
I knew about writing, about words,
I didn’t know how to play with them
Like the poets do
But you invited me and everyone else to the table anyway.
You wrote in the last poem I read of yours before the end
“Be bold never afraid to fail,”
So I’ll keep doing that
Whenever I play with words.
That’s it for tonight. Have a great Memorial Day weekend.
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