Illinois corn farmers are the Nation's number two exporter of feed grains.
quote by John Shimkus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nitrogen fertilizer is used on all crops produced in this country, but it is a key plant nutrient to produce corn a critical crop to Illinois farmers.
quote by John Shimkus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Angel and the Clown
I saw wild domes and bowers
And smoking incense towers
And mad exotic flowers
In Illinois.
Where ragged ditches ran
Now springs of Heaven began
Celestial drink for man
In Illinois.
There stood beside the town
Beneath its incense-crown
An angel and a clown
In Illinois.
He was as Clowns are:
She was snow and star
With eyes that looked afar
In Illinois.
I asked, "How came this place
Of antique Asian grace
Amid our callow race
In Illinois?"
Said Clown and Angel fair:
"By laughter and by prayer,
By casting off all care
In Illinois."
poem by Vachel Lindsay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Horse
A sparrow hopped about the street,
And he was not a bit afraid;
He flew between a horse's feet,
And ate his supper undismayed:
I think myself the horse knew well
The bird came for the grains that fell.
For his eye was looking down,
And he danced the corn about
In his nose-bag, till the brown
Grains of corn were tumbled out;
And I fancy that he said,
'Eat it up, young Speckle-Head!'
The driver then came back again,
He climbed into the heavy dray;
And he tightened up the rein,
Cracked his whip and drove away.
But when the horse's ribs were hit,
The sparrow did not care a bit.
poem by James Stephens
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Farmers in Missouri and across the country must comply with a variety of federal, state, and local regulations as they grow the crops and raise the livestock that we depend on to feed the nation and the world.
quote by Ike Skelton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We in Illinois are very fortunate to have a number of historic structures that have added immeasurably to the cultural life of the state, to the tourism industry of the state which by the way is our number one industry.
quote by James R. Thompson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Early Morning Happiness....
this morning
i wake up early
i see this hen
and her sixteen chicks
roosting
upon a strong branch
of the narra tree
i get a handful of
rice grains
and scatter them on
the ground
the chickens fly down
from the tree
and feed on
the scattered grains
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Victory
Victory is ours!
Said one crow to the other,
As they soared in the sky above.
For below them they had spied
Golden corn, that was ripe,
From which, they would have their feast.
Tantalizing ears of gold
Laying out row upon row
Though as a river when the wind blowed.
'And no one is there'!
Exclaimed one crow in the air
'To protect that golden hair'.
So victory is ours!
Exclaimed the crows beginning there dive
Upon the corn, coming into sight.
But then shots rang out,
And two crows fell to the ground
As the corn waived in the wind.
Then walked two farmers to the crows
Who were hidden out of view
To observe the birds which flew.
Then one farmer spoke to the other
About the corn they defended together,
Exclaiming, 'victory is ours, over all others'.
poem by Randy McClave
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One of the chiefs of this nation, with his young men, escorted us to the Lake of the Illinois.
quote by Jacques Marquette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I am committed to working with Speaker Hastert and the other members of the Illinois congressional delegation to do all that I can to ensure that Illinois' funding needs are adequately met.
quote by Bill Lipinski
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Works Of Art
Corn Circles scattered across our land,
Are they by aliens, or by humans planned,
Patterns so intricate, they so amaze,
Is it a hostile message, or just a craze.
There seems no answer to this weird event,
No wonder the farmers, feel such torment,
Whether they appear from outer space,
Or are created by our own earthly race.
One day the fields are all high with corn,
Next day one finds a design is born,
But they really are such works of art,
Even if someone is trying to outsmart,
Us all!
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Corn is a greedy crop, as farmers will tell you.
quote by Michael Pollan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sugar Curls
You can count the stars
and the count will be incomplete.
You can count times
I've looked for you
in dreams
I've dreamed.
You can count the hours
I've marked,
my stomach knotting
etching time across my heart
since I've seen your face.
I know how many steps
to your house;
your phone number backwards;
the colors in your eyes,
how many sighs
I make
looking at your photograph.
If there in a number to infinity
then you can see me circling back;
starting again infinitely.
Lower me down to deepest depths
count my fathoms there
plumb these and more
for our ocean is endlessly
deep.
How many grains in beachy sand?
I know having sifted each.
What is the size of this love for you?
There is no count of instances,
for that is a number which cannot be reached.
Simply put
you count with me;
together we
count twice infinitely.
Oh so sweet
are the sugar
grains
whose white dotted
fractals
swirl
in our hearts;
rotating
Love Curls
circling
endlessly.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Corn Circles
Corn circles
Appearing all over the land
Corn circles
Appearing all over the land
Nobody knows where they come from
Nobody understands
Corn circles
Mysterious symbols in the fields
Corn circles
Mysterious symbols in the fields
No one knows - are they phony
Or maybe are they real?
Corn circles!
Corn circles!
Corn circles
Is somebody playing a trick?
Corn circles
Pixies, witches, hoaxers
Take your pick
Throw a few theories out there
See what sticks!
Corn circles!
Corn circles!
Corn circles
Patterns in the gold
Corn circles
Pretty patterns in the gold
Like something out of the future
Or something very old
Corn circles!
Corn circles!
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hour Glass
As grains start to fall, everything is new.
Nothing is known about what to do.
As the pile of grains continues to grow,
It seems easier to know which way to go.
When grains approach a quarter of the way,
Things appear less black and white versus an earlier day.
But the world is exciting and there’s plenty of time.
Any thoughts of the hour glass give way to the sublime.
Pleasure, money, power and love battle for share,
While the grains at the top become increasingly rare.
At half way flowing grains take on a resounding force,
Though few pay attention as they race on their course.
Mental and physical factors band together as reminders,
But many still prefer to continue using their blinders.
As the grains accumulate to their three quarters state,
The niave and unprepared are in for a sad, brutal fate.
They still act as if they have power over the grains and the glass.
Nothing could be more wrong as the last few grains pass.
For matter not the importance or the manner of any man
When his last grain falls, the hour glass won’t turn over again.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Many seventh graders I know in Illinois, as well as around the Nation, are studying the Constitution. I was pretty impressed with the quality of education our children are receiving because they had not expected me to ask them about it.
quote by Melissa Bean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Who Rejects Christ
There's farmers and there's farmers,
There's many a field and field,
But none of the farmers round about
Can haul such harvest-wagons out
As I from an acre's yield.
There's plenty and plenty of farmers
That leave the ground by the fence,
Thinking it's nice if a patch of roses
Should scratch out the hay and tickle their noses
With nice little wild-rose scents.
I'm not like other farmers,
I make my farming pay;
I never go in for sentiment,
And seeing that roses yield no rent
I cut the stuff away.
A very good thing for farmers
If they would learn my way;
For crops are all that a good field grows,
And nothing is worse than a sniff of rose
In the good strong smell of hay.
poem by John Crowe Ransom
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Women's song of the corn
How beautiful are the corn rows,
Stretching to the morning sun,
Stretching to the evening sun.
Very beautiful, the long rows of corn.
How beautiful is the white corn,
I husk it,
I grind it.
Very beautiful, my white corn.
How beautiful is the red corn,
I gather it and make fine meal,
I am glad doing this.
Very beautiful, my red corn.
How beautiful is the black corn,
I give it to my father,
To my mother,
I give it to my child.
Very beautiful, the black corn.
How beautiful is the mottled corn,
Like the sky with little clouds,
I eat it looking at the sky.
Very beautiful, my mottled corn.
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The meetings of the legislature at Springfield then first brought together that splendid group of young men of genius whose phenomenal careers and distinguished services have given Illinois fame in the history of the nation.
quote by John George Nicolay
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Box #10
Well out of southern Illinois
Come a down-home country boy
He gonna make it in the city
Playin' guitar in the studio
Well he hadn't been there an hour
When he met a Broadway flower
You know she took him for his money
And she left him in a cheap hotel
Well it's easy for you to see
That that country boy was me
Say and how am I ever gonna
Break the news to the folks back home?
I was gonna be a great success
Things sure ended up a mess
But in the process I got messed up too
Hello momma and dad I had to call collect
'Cause I ain't got a cent to my name
Well I'm sleepin' in a hotel doorway
And tonight they say it's gonna rain
And if you'd only send me some money
I'll be back on my feet again
Send it in care of the Sunday Mission
Box Number Ten
Well back in southern Illinois
They still worryin' 'bout their boy
But this boy's goin' home
As soon as he gets the fare
Because the minute I got my bread
I got a pipe upside my head
You know they left me in an alley
Took my money and my guitar too
Hello momma and dad I had to call collect
'Cause I ain't got a cent to my name
Well I'm sleepin' in a hotel doorway
And tonight they say it's gonna rain
And if you'd only send me some money
I'll be back on my feet again
Send it in care of the Sunday Mission
Box Number Ten
Send it in care of the Sunday Mission
Box Number Ten
song performed by by Jim Croce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jones's Porvate Argyment
That air same Jones, which lived in Jones,
He had this pint about him:
He'd swear with a hundred sighs and groans,
That farmers MUST stop gittin' loans,
And git along without 'em:
That bankers, warehousemen, and sich
Was fatt'nin' on the planter,
And Tennessy was rotten-rich
A-raisin' meat and corn, all which
Draw'd money to Atlanta:
And the only thing (says Jones) to do
Is, eat no meat that's boughten:
`But tear up every I, O, U,
And plant all corn and swear for true
To quit a-raisin' cotton!'
Thus spouted Jones (whar folks could hear,
-- At Court and other gatherin's),
And thus kep' spoutin' many a year,
Proclaimin' loudly far and near
Sich fiddlesticks and blatherin's.
But, one all-fired sweatin' day,
It happened I was hoein'
My lower corn-field, which it lay
'Longside the road that runs my way
Whar I can see what's goin'.
And a'ter twelve o'clock had come
I felt a kinder faggin',
And laid myself un'neath a plum
To let my dinner settle sum,
When 'long come Jones's waggin,
And Jones was settin' in it, SO:
A-readin' of a paper.
His mules was goin' powerful slow,
Fur he had tied the lines onto
The staple of the scraper.
The mules they stopped about a rod
From me, and went to feedin'
'Longside the road, upon the sod,
But Jones (which he had tuck a tod)
Not knowin', kept a-readin'.
And presently says he: "Hit's true;
That Clisby's head is level.
Thar's one thing farmers all must do,
To keep themselves from goin' tew
Bankruptcy and the devil!
"More corn! more corn! MUST plant less ground,
And MUSTN'T eat what's boughten!
Next year they'll do it: reasonin's sound:
(And, cotton will fetch 'bout a dollar a pound),
THARFORE, I'LL plant ALL cotton!"
poem by Sidney Lanier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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