Breeann Mahoney Poet Rhyme

Skinner's Farm

Weeds deeds tractors and, 
          seeds dirt on hands, mud on jeans.
          Mother nature giving way to this
          farmland my family has made.

         Cattle, pigs grain and, rye 
         wheat, barley I question why?
         Corporate takeovers, governments  
         greed, is ruining our farmlands and,
         the farmers creed to feed the hungry
         families.

         So, what's to come from years of sweat?
         of working ones body almost to death.
         Building a farm from beginning to end
         dawn to dusk never seems to end.

         Family traditions generations gone by
         to be a farmer now one can't survive so,
         throw in the deeds tractors and, seeds
         dirt on hands, mud on jeans, give up trying
         let it be, when it died it took a part of me.

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