Hello, all subscribers and anyone happening upon my page this Saturday evening. Tonight is Poetry night once again. This is where I throw out some brand new, never before seen poetry out into the world and see if anyone digs them or not. How about I get started?

If You’re Interested in the Poetry You See Here… You Might Want to Check Out Some More…

My first collection of poetry is out.

Since Substack doesn’t have the setup for this (that I’m aware of), I’ve set up something at my WordPress sister site, Liegois Media. I have my own Internet storefront page where you can order my chapbook for $6 per copy. The link is below.

You may have sensed this if you have followed me¹, but I am not a fan of the hot weather. When some of my work colleagues in April were praying for sun and warmth, I was thinking of how July 2024 extended into November of the same year and thought to myself oh, don’t worry, you’ll get it soon enough and get it hard.

Some people want to vacation in Cancun or Florida, I would prefer to go to Iceland or the Faroe and Shetland Islands. Some people want to go on cruises to the Caribbean; I would prefer a tour of the Rhine/Main/Danube rivers or a voyage of the Great Loop².

With all that being said, if I had to go outside, I’d feel a lot more comfortable in a dense, cool, moist forest with plenty of shade rather than a tropical jungle, beach, desert, or other biome³. This, plus a bevy of mushrooms popping up in my yard⁴, inspired this poem.

Mushroom Hunt in the Forest

Fort Madison, Iowa, 26 July 2025

Crisp breeze

Wet air

Cloudy days

Now is my time.

Sneaking under the pine and oak canopy

On my own

Burlap bag over my shoulder

Mushroom knife in my true right hand

Well-thumbed mushroom guide in

My left.

I wander around the trunks

In the cool shade

On the lookout for

Cauliflower

Chanterelle

Hawks Wing

Honey Mushroom

Lobster

The Prince

And the Truffles.

I put them in my sack

Converse with nature

And get some satisfaction

That I can be resourceful

As my electric-deficient ancestors were.

To be honest, however, the deepest darkest place I tend to hang out in (if I have one) during the depths of the overheated Iowa summers has been a basement. My childhood home in Muscatine had a great basement where I spent most of my waking moments. It was my lair. In the first three homes I owned, they all had basements but were not quite set up for lounging, so I had to come up with alternative locations. My new home here in Fort Madison has a proper basement, with enough space for not only my home office, but a recliner and love seat, breakfast nook table, a utility room/storage area/work bench, more storage, bath and shower, refrigerator, and microwave. I need to be appreciative of the nice stuff I have. 🙂

Man Cave

Fort Madison, Iowa, 25 July 2025

Back when

Homo Sapiens Sapiens

Was just Homo Sapiens

Before they built castles

Long houses

Daub and wattle huts

And lean-tos

They gathered inside the natural caverns

In their irregular water and wind-carved

Empty spaces

To make them their own.

They liked the solid cool spaces

Sheltered from the elements

Secure from danger

With a dollop of safety.

I live in different times.

My caves are not rounded and irregular

But squared and measured.

My caves are not wet and living

But dry and dead.

However,

It is a good home for me

Not in tune with the natural world

A concrete, steel, and wood sanctuary

For a civilized boy like me.

That’s it for tonight. Hope you all don’t sweat to death the next couple (or few) of months⁵⁶.

While I do appreciate you following this blog, I really would like you to subscribe to my Substack page. By subscribing to that page, you’ll not only be receiving my Substack newsletter, The Writing Life With Jason Liegois (the companion blog to this one), but you’ll also be signing up for my email list. Just click the button below.

1. And how. ↩︎
2. Here’s some info in case you didn’t know what I was talking about. ↩︎
3. I am not an outdoorsy person, as you will see. ↩︎
4. Told you the photos would have some relevance. ↩︎
5. Iowa only has maybe two perfect months of weather during the year. I have told my wife I do not wish to live anywhere between North and 40° South latitude. Currently, I live at 40°38’05” North. ↩︎
6. Honestly, I would love to retire and live somewhere around 45° North or South, which would suggest somewhere in Minnesota, the Upper Peninsula, or Alaska. Or maybe southern Patagonia in Argentina. I like cold places, all right? In my final days, I don’t want to sweat to death, even in our climate change world. ↩︎

Hi, it’s Poetry Night once again. I’ve been busy this month with the imminent release of my book The Yank Striker’s Journey, so poetry hasn’t been on the front-burner of my brain¹. But I I do have a couple of offerings for you tonight.

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.

As far as poetic inspiration goes, I ended up doing a bit of picking up and rearranging some things I’ve stored for a long time. I mean, some of these items have traveled with me for about twenty years at least and between maybe four different houses. The process inspired at least one poem, which I’ll share with you below².

Memory Memorials

Fort Madison, Iowa, 28 June 2025

Black plastic mausoleums

Sit ready to entomb

Talismans of memory.

Older resting places

Tearing carboard boxes and dirt-smeared tubs

Disposed for secure memorials.

Letters, trinkets, tickets, and keepsakes

Keys to memories faded or misplaced

Like forgotten jars in the back pantry

And older clothes tucked into the sides of closets.

Talismans tucked away

In hermetically sealed plastic bags and acid-free paper

Then into the black mausoleums stowed on steel shelves

The external hard drives of human memory.

All the thinking about memories, the ones you have and the ones you had, led me to write this related poem below.

Memories Lost

Fort Madison, Iowa, 28 June 2025

Why do memories fade

Other than short circuits and worn wires in the brain

Other than the subconsciousness

Protecting the front of the brain?

Do they get misplaced

Shoved into the back corners of the skull?

Do some memories have shorter life spans than others?

Or does the human hard drive have limited storage

Forced to overwrite older memories for higher priority ones?

It would be good to know

Because finding lost memories

Isn’t as straightforward as finding your phone or house keys.

That’s it for tonight. Hope you’ve had a great June and Pride Month.

While I do appreciate you following this blog, I really would like you to subscribe to my Substack page. By subscribing to that page, you’ll not only be receiving my Substack newsletter, The Writing Life With Jason Liegois (the companion blog to this one), but you’ll also be signing up for my email list. Just click the button below.

1. And I’m sorry I blew through my usual deadline for releasing something today (5 p.m. Central). ↩︎
2. There have been more than a few poems I’ve written not intended for publication (at least not immediately). That’s allowed me to be a bit more free with my experimentation and subject matter than the stuff I write with the express intention to share publicly. ↩︎

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.

While I do appreciate you following this blog, I really would like you to subscribe to my Substack page. By subscribing to that page, you’ll not only be receiving my Substack newsletter, The Writing Life With Jason Liegois (the companion blog to this one), but you’ll also be signing up for my email list. Just click the button below.

Hi, everyone, welcome to Poetry Night.

I have to admit the poetry wasn’t as free flowing as it has been recently. There’s a good explanation for that – I’ve been in the midst of revising my upcoming novel The Yank Striker’s Journey. It’s a bit difficult to write words when you’re trying to trim down words you’ve written, among other skills. It’s especially true when you are trying to write in something approaching verse but revising in prose. But, those are the breaks, and I am dedicating myself to try and actually write poetry rather than just brag I write it every once in a while¹. So, as usual, I decided to follow what was going around me as inspiration for today’s offerings.

If You’re Interested in my Poetry Here…

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.

Onto the new words. The first poem is inspired by the arrival of the shortest season in the state of Iowa – Spring.

Spring is Sprung

26 April 2025, Fort Madison, Iowa

It’s a fantastic feeling

Driving with the windows open

No sweat on your brow

Shirtsleeve comfort

Bright sun direct and above

No cloud in the sky

Enjoying the first soft-serve ice cream cone

Of Spring.

There’s a regret wrapped in the joy

Because this is Iowa

And in a few weeks

Summer and corn sweat will fill the air.

I couldn’t get revising off my mind this weekend, so it ended up in a poem.

Disappearing Words

26 April 2025, Fort Madison, Iowa

It’s a wonderful sensation

Just like creation

Of the words and worlds from your mind.

You feel accomplished again

When you read words then

Start making them disappear.

The aim is for

You to say less and not more

While allowing the reader to fill the empty spaces.

You hammer the words

Like the smith beat the swords

And leave yourself something strong and true.

That’s it for tonight. See you poetry fans back here in May.

While I do appreciate you following this blog, I really would like you to subscribe to my Substack page. By subscribing to that page, you’ll not only be receiving my Substack newsletter, The Writing Life With Jason Liegois (the companion blog to this one), but you’ll also be signing up for my email list. Just click the button below.

1. 1I’m even writing several poems I’m not planning on publishing right away, which I never used to do. I like having the freedom of writing something without having the pressure of wanting to publish it right away. ↩︎