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.

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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