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Best Farm Poems

Below are the all-time best Farm poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of farm poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Definition & Discussion of Farm Poems
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See also: Best Famous Poems

Details | Farm Poem | |

A Farm Yarn

When we were young boys on our farm.
A fish tale never meant any harm,
We oft were given a look,
When from such a tiny brook,
We claimed a fish as long as your arm.

But then our neighbor named Meg,
Beat the fib and put us down a peg,
By claiming from the same brook,
With not a worm on her hook,
She caught a fish as long as your leg!

Well that truth was quite hard to beat,
Then Summer beat a hasty retreat. 
Winter changed the fishing world,
Meg turned from tomboy to girl.
And now this fishing tale is complete!

For John Freeman's "Fishing Limericks"

Details | Farm Poem | |

the farm boy

amidst the green field
behind grandpa’s old brick house
lies a broken fridge,
unmindful of time passing
until my mom calls me home.

Details | Farm Poem | |

Comin' Hame - Coming Home -Scottish Dialect

A angry sky, as cauld as Loch Lomon'
fair drew me out from cot o' peat, an' bed.
The wolves wus wailin', an' thund'r respond'd
Ah gather'd tam, me tartan, an' dug Red.
To  'orse ah took an' found the 'erd sam 'urt. 
The 'ungry wolves 'ad already fed. 
Inta the bi'er blaw, the rill ah skirt 
thro braes a white, t'ward ham an' fire burnin'
the bleatin' sheep, the 'orse an' ah alert.
We wud mak it hame, stomaches churnin'
O smell the peat fire on the wild wind now,
'ear the cows faint distant ca', a lowin'
'erself wud know, we'r near ta the brow.
Noo, we 'ad beat the storm hame, an' kep' me vow.

Dedicated to Jimbo Goff & James Fraser
and the spirit of Robin Burns

See About the Poem

Details | Farm Poem | |

The Farm Fields

The wind swept across the fields of wheat

The breeze curled around each head of grain

Waves would ripple through the fields

Looking like the waves of an ocean lapping to shore

As the sun beat upon these heads of grain

They turned from green to a golden color

They now have become prairie gold

The harvest in the fall has truck loads of wheat

Taken to the elevators for shipping to the coast

From the coast wheat goes  world wide

To feed the hungry and give man bread

From the wind swept prairie's

Where the farmer makes his bed.

Details | Farm Poem | |

Just Down The Road


              Just down the road there is a golden field of hay
              where there once stood a home where my sister
              and I did play. The moss covered trees and yellow
              daffodils bloomed, and the smell of Mother's
              clothes drying as the hot, summer sun fumed.

              The air was filled with the June bug's song and
              the tractor tilling along the farm. 
              My sister's hair was honey blond and how she 
              laughed when I would tag along . Eyes of blue as
              the sky above but just being her sister, brought
              to my heart so much love.

              Day would pass and night appeared, and the moon
              brought fireflies to enchant the way to the raspberry
              patch where we believed fairies did stay. It's time to
              come in Pa would say, oh just let us have one more
              minute, Pa and we'll be on our way.

              Time has passed and childhood is gone but for me
              Just down the road, these memories will forever
              live on.
                                         Sharon Gulley

Details | Farm Poem | |


We are known for our football, bratwurst, and beer,
Iridescent blue lakes with fresh waters, crystal clear,
Summer's sun blazes hot enough to make skin burn,
Cheese producing dairy farms are around every turn,
Our bright autumn leaves change their colors with ease,
Near spring, the scent of lilac floats upon the breeze,
Snowy winters, with temperatures below zero degrees,
In our green forests, raccoons and deer have a home,
Near the roadside, wildflowers grow wherever you roam.

Harley-Davidson was born, where the eagles fly free,
Wisconsin is as close to heaven, as home can be.

Kim Merryman's contest - "Tell Me About Where You're From"

Details | Farm Poem | |


    fattened lambs no longer
    laze in sun -
    market day dawns

Details | Farm Poem | |

Childhood Spirit

From the kitchen sink at the window sill,
I see a house on the distant hill,
When as a child I had time to kill,
Where now my spirit wanders still.
Then life changed on a day that’s dire,
We choked on smoke and could see the fire…
That hillside died from that burning pyre,
Now it’s uniform green, and squared by wire.
So childhood spirit of years gone by,
Stick to your guns and never die.
Take me beyond where the youngsters ply,
Where the woodlands grew, and so did I.

We fed our chooks on the table scraps,
Snared wild rabbits in rabbit traps,
Lemonade was brought with screwed in caps,
And our old farm dog just yaps and yaps
Till we let him off, “Way back!” was said,
And the cattle moved to the milking shed.
Cans were filled and the calves were fed,
Hay was stored for the months ahead.
So childhood spirit of years gone by,
Stick to your guns and never die,
Those years on the land got us by,
Where the farm was small and so was I.

Ti-tree’s gone where the swamp frogs sang,
No circle of fear from the black snake fang,
Hawthorn’s cleared so there’s no Gang-Gang,
It’s deathly quiet where the Bellbirds rang,
There’s no defence from the progress pack,
Now bitumen lies on the old dirt track,
The gums are cleared and they can’t grow back,
The red brick forest to me looks black.
So childhood spirit of years gone by,
Stick to your guns and never die,
Remember the bush and the filtered sky,
Where the world’s at peace and so was I.

The evening smell from the baker’s bread,
And two-up played in the old pub shed,
The hawker’s bell on his horse named Ned,
Sinkers made from the scraps of lead.
Then something died with the whistle shrill,
When no steam trains came down Red Hill,
Where I picked up their black coal spill,
For our old wood stove in the winter chill.
So childhood spirit of years gone by,
Stick to your guns and never die,
If your feeling lost and you don’t know why,
Please comfort me, for so do I.

To pioneer ghosts who led the way,
I followed you but I find today,
We’ve come too far, now I sadly say,
That the land will finally make us pay,
Our water’s gray that flows through here,
Top soil drains from the hills we clear,
But the young one’s vision now is to steer,
A warmer heart to this land so dear.
So childhood spirit of years gone by,
Stick to your guns and never die,
If you feel there’s a need to cry,
Shed your tears through my glistened eye.

Details | Farm Poem | |

The Loss of a Farmer of Man

The rivers of life are most dear to those with young.
These rivers supply life, ensuring the survival of what is most precious.
It is when the river runs dry; the last drops of liquid are tears...
Tears of all that is lost.

The fertile soil soon dries and becomes barren.
The efforts of man are unable to save the farm.
This farmer... a farmer for man... lost what is most dear.
His vision for the future has died.

The farm itself screams in pain as the river flows away.
Her life is leaving and she is unable to save what grows beneath.
What is most dear to the farm is dying.
Her life, everything she wanted... now stripped from her.

Such farms all have a gate that closes them to the rest of the world.
As the farmer stands staring at the sign above the farm... remembering that night.
He came from no where with no reason... stabbing his wife in her stomach and 
His memory, while staring at the sign..."Here lies both a loving wife and future 

Details | Farm Poem | |

Farm Life at Dawn

As dawn starts to streak across the sky
heralding in the new born day
feisty rooster already perched on the wall
giving forth with all his might, he crows

Sleepy hens, ducks and geese scat for worms
low moos emitting from the milking parlour
mingling with the sucking sounds of machines
as they gather the rich creamy milk in containers

Banging of impatient hooves from the shire horses
hungry for their grain, tossing heads and stamping 
loud neighs and whinnies fill the early dawn
so they will be at work ploughing and farrowing fields

Farmhouse door opens smell of eggs and bacon wafting
farmer's wife emerges carrying pails heavy with slops
as she nears the pigsty the grunts and squeals grow
barging, pushing as they search for tasty scraps 

A caterwaul of noise from the rookery deafening
as they wheel and spin around the yard thieving
slowly as the animals return to the sweet meadows
life settles back to normal, until tomorrows dawn

written 09/15/2013

contest Nature