First Prize Corn by Mary Ellen Smith
In my backyard I planted a couple rows of corn
Worked the dirt and watered it until a sprout was born.
I marveled at the rate it grew how big it got so fast
My simple gardeners expectations certainly surpassed!
I never had a green thumb so I never thought I could
Plant a little seed in dirt and it would turn out good.
My houseplants all despise me, they talk behind my back
Whispering I do suppose about the many skills I lack.
So I determined early to do everything just right
I would nurture those small kernels all day and then all night.
In my celebratory mindset I think I carried it too far
In my quest to be a gardening superstar.
I built a fence around my prize it stood a good four feet
Already dreaming of the cobs that would taste oh so sweet.
Just in time for autumn, just past the summer sun
Dripping sweet in butter and not to be outdone.
First the rabbits foraged. They got underneath the fence.
And I can tell you truly that it made me a little tense.
Then from the sky, a crow assault, why was I so surprised?
I hurried out and bought a scarecrow that I saw was advertised.
I stuck him in my cornfield, he had a happy smirk
In high spirits I guessed to be picked out to do this work.
But I took a big black marker and put a frown upon his face.
Hed have to look intimidating to work here in this place!
The crows just had a grand time tearing him apart.
They ripped him up and carried away his broken scarecrow heart.
So I put on a faded plaid shirt, some overalls and a hat
Went out into my garden with a broom and there I sat.
I swung my broom a plenty those days the corn grew there
And I hardly left my tender husks so deeply did I care.
The crows they soon grew tired of getting shooed about
This scarecrow she meant business of that there was no doubt!
Summer turned to autumn; it came on a gentle day
The breeze that smelled like fall had finally come my way.
The corn there in its ripeness, called now for a reaping
And in my heart I knew it had profited from my sweeping.
I guess the storys not complete without a nice big ending.
My first prize corn is at the fair (the winner there still pending).
But the moral of this story about my corn upon the cob
Is never send a scarecrow to do a gardeners job. 09/04/2005 Posted on 09/04/2005 Copyright © 2024 Mary Ellen Smith
Member Comments on this Poem |
Posted by Michelle Angelini on 09/04/05 at 08:21 PM Mary Ellen, what a wonderful story! I grew up playing in the cornfields behind my house, so they are special. The rhyme and rhythm of your words blend with the story, so that a happy ending (or so we hope, first prize) is a natural conclusion after all the hard work. Your poem also brings it back to the basis of life - new growth - the tender shoots struggling to survive.
~Chelle~ |
Posted by Melissa Arel on 09/08/05 at 03:47 PM Mary Ellen, you are THE best storyteller! :) |
Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 09/09/05 at 12:47 PM Another prize story to add to your incomparable collection of story poems. A bit nostalgic too! |
Posted by Charles E Minshall on 12/19/05 at 06:56 AM I got a real kick out of this one Mar. Well done as are all of your porms...Charlie |
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