A new fountain pen With some heavy tan paper How hard could this be? I grew up with corn Planted, grew high, now, oh shucks I’m corn getting old
Watching corn growing In rows, through long summer’s heat With tassels on top.
Smoked a corn cob pipe Like Twain, MacArthur, Popeye And no one noticed. Mexican grass grew up To become the corn we know Now it feeds the world I have large ears Just like corn, everyone says But, I don’t listen. Fall, corn on the cob Butter and salt, hot to hold Ah, little skewers. We could be like corn And just fertilize ourselves. Darn, no more romance. Hominy, no lye Is just corn stripped naked Grits and posole. Jerry Lee Lewis Fun to watch, shake, rattle, and roll, We all love to dance. Seven haiku poems, Seventeen syllables each I just can’t stop.