Best Acres Poems
I don't know much
about politics and such
I'm just a regular farming guy
Check the water table,
tend to the crops
Spend most my day scanning the sky
But I will tell you what I do know,
saying something don't make it so
Can't no politician
make the wind patterns change
Can't no politician
bring me much needed rain
I can't live on empty words
by career promise makers
Words won't turn my dry ground
into God's green acres
I don't know much
about politics and such
I'm just a rural farming guy
Check the farm animals,
tend to the calves
Do all the little things to get by
Then when the sun starts to set low,
I eat my supper and listen to the suits crow
Can't no politician
make the ground yield more grain
Can't no politician
make the harvest time be rearranged
I can't live on empty words
by upstart promise makers
Words won't turn my withered ground
into God's green acres
Rainfall came heavy,
followed by crushing flood
that swept much away.
My dream shines brightly with ambitious gleam,
And in my heart, its vivid brilliance rivals even sunbeam.
I dream to be among the ranks of landowners,
To have thousands of acres and a hanseatic house,
Adorned with colorful feathered grouse,
And lush gardens fit for soirees and dinners,
Gazebos hosting bands and crooners,
And a view of a river as fair as the Great Ouse.
By day I shall paint,
And write prose and poetry
Lauding flora and fauna.
By night I shall play
Baroque tunes on a lute
Or Bach on a harpsichord.
All rights released into Public Domain
Sept. 26 2016
Three style II poetry contest
A law firm partner living on Madison Avenue
bought a farm in the country. What a strange thing to do!
Oliver Wendell Douglas and Hungarian-born wife,
would head for Hooterville to start a new life.
Oliver and Lisa moved from their high-rise penthouse,
to a ramshackle farm with a dilapidated house.
Oliver wanted to leave New York City and Times Square,
to live in the country with chores to do, and fresh air.
To be dragged from New York, to a life that is bucolic,
became disastrous to wife Lisa, and quite tragic.
However, she held her husband Oliver very dear.
In this new life, poor Lisa had to persevere.
Douglas bought this farm from a crook named Mr. Haney.
Haney kept trying something new to get more money.
Oliver deals with the absent-minded Mr. Kimball.
He has a scatterbrained farmhand named Eb, but that’s not all.
Oliver climbs a telephone pole to make a phone call.
Neighbors Fred and Doris Ziffel have a pig named Arnold.
All except Oliver knows what Arnold has told.
Our Oliver would get himself into jams constantly.
All these things combine to make a great comedy.
Not for the contest
The sun came up today,
as usual,
but with a difference.
While we slept,
rain changed to snow,
quarter-size flakes
accruing on the wet earth.
Temperature dropped
faster than snowflakes,
freezing the garage door shut.
Morning brought a crystal cloak,
to cover winter's drab face;
a blanket of jewels,
winking in the sun.
A priceless gift,
from the Diamond Maker.
Acres of tears
Mark her passing
Enriching the soil
For time everlasting
Head bowed in sorrow
Sad sight to behold
I no longer have
Her arms to enfold
'Tho body is gone
Her spirits around
This person who made me
Is homeward bound.
All across the webbed wide esse Scott's wold
emerald green Trifolium
carpets harbor untold
burrows of tiny Leprechauns clover
(leaf) ways grant trifold
wishes if captured might
divulge pot of gold
at rainbow's end, and e'en mend
yar shoes, whence re: souled,
thence tread softly beneath subthreshold
of audibility, cuz unseen universe
hapts tubby microscopically rolled
with subterranean inhabited by Lilliputian
mischievous beings (about bajillion holed
up could fill the Taj Mahal) even donned with
heavy coat protecting them
(usually men) against cold
yet frolic with reel delight jiggling
with inborn instinct exhibit twofold
talent to dance with modesty
downplaying (while fiddling)
averse tubby extolled,
nonetheless, their popular
doth soar, and grievously scold
persistent myth anchored with toehold,
and thus do not indulge
pruriently with pixies considerably dulled,
since libido practically nonexistent told
me (under oath of
confidentiality), one Grunwald
trusted yours truly, the secrete
will not leak out,
nor spread like slime mold,
this descendant of Lemuel Gulliver
(ironically my height
only about threefold
larger than full grown imp possible
to see non elfish (pressed) lee ping auld
timers cavorting with
itty bitty whippersnappers,
averse to any outliers, whether hirsute or bald
an honest to goodness painstaking effort
initially stymied friendship proffered, a cold
reception eventually (while sharing diet of worms)
deep under verdantly festooned knolls of Eire land.
Long long ago and far far away, lived an angel better known this day....
As Lucifer with big bright eyes and much bigger, dreams ? Twas a lovely lad
Blessed his majestic voice in that be, crystal waters; her cherubs adored this child
Perhaps you see for nothing is always what it seems ? Jettison the light their stars at dawn
Anew as news of time's glass; these stirring images now rippling, through divinities kingdom ?
Bronze her beauty waiting amid the turning stall ? Tugging on tomorrow's reins; and off she lept..
Some say there was a vision; while others believe surely it were a cause ? Either be we all agree; joyfully.
Form:
Years have come
Years have also gone
Tears and pains are still on;
Memories fresh and vivid
And families still livid
Pains so real, yet a constant
Scars as reminders of....
Of the 16 hallowed acres,
On the 11th of September 2001
16 bloodied acres of Manhattan
estate, a memorial
The symbols of America under
siege
The heroics of men and women to
the death
World trade centre, never again
World trade centre the stage
Where terrorism took front page
Announcing it's global age
16 blood stained acres, hallowed.
Reminders of what has been,
Reminisces of what would have
been
(Written on 01/04/2015)
There once was a show named Green Acres
Of which brought many laughs to the takers
There were two main actors for the show
Eddie Albert and Eva Gabor, great ones you know
The characters were interesting and a bit strange
Oliver and Lisa had a bit of a farm on this range
Neither knew one thing about farming
And Oliver did it all in a suit, how charming
Lisa did not want to be there but rather in the city
She always ended up doing things just for pity
The show all in all, is quite a crazy show
Simple minded folk is all you need to know
Don’t be fooled, they seem different than they are
Ignorant though the seem, they’ll take it all
Clever little show Green Acres is in reality
Humor is ever present, laughter is plenty
Something that is usually heard throughout
Laughter is always there, the show’s funny no doubt
Russell Sivey
Entrant into Michael J. Falotico's "Rhyme Me An Old TV Show...." contest
TV Show: Green Acres
1/10/2012
Chocolate lotus lips
A planted peach tongue
And ebony seeding eyes
I am the garden you greet
With thick calloused thumbs
And warm loving palms
How can I be so selfish
to deny you me to deny me you?
I don’t know about tomorrow
Next five years too much to ponder
For I am like an autumn red leaf
Fallen
How can I think with boiling blood burgundy
in air and blue under there like your underwear
Yes I am too old to be a fool
And too young to be used up
A soul of a certain age
Can still procreate but butter melts faster.
I have my moments of foolery
and the clock is no bother for
Color my moments with music my muse
Sip me like fresh squeezed orange juice
Before I spoil due to the mahogany toil
The reality of no prince charming
Nor no 3 acres no mule for farming
My generational wealth.
What did you say?
Repeat that raspberry phrase
For we all have a voice here
No need to fear any colored ear.
Well yes times have changed and yet they haven’t
Folk still divided and united by love
LOVE...of flesh
Love of power
Love of idles
And all kinds of healthy religious love
Mingling with the fanatics
We all love someone something even if it is
love to hate or love to celebrate.
SO HURRY...plant your seeds in me
That I may grow like a lovely wise garden
Before I am to old to remember how to bloom
Come sleep with me she said
Bring some warmth to my bed
That seems to spread acres wide
Now that it’s empty on his side
Just for a while hold me tight
Shorten just one endless night
So full of hours that I have wept
Until exhausted and finally slept
There’s been no word since that day
He rang and said he was going away
No longer needed in his life
Just one more abandoned wife
Oh I can live and will survive
Already starting to become alive
But for just those lonely sheets
Where our love was once complete
Give me this one night as a friend
Help me bring grief towards end
Oh please tell me you will stay
Please don’t yet be on your way
So I held her there as she wept
Held her there until she slept
Then slipped away as first light
Broke the power of that night
Come sleep with me she’d said
Bring some warmth to my bed
Which hadn’t seemed to her so wide
For the time I’d spent on his old side
I am the Lord of the manor
I always have servants at hand
I own a big house in the country
And acres and acres of land
I have tenants that live in the village
Though their cottages may not be grand
They pay rent to me because as you see
I own acres and acres of land
When I visit my people
Their respect I always demand
They all bow to me that's what I like to see
Because I own acres and acres of land
Many times I have climbed up my tower
The vista before me I've scanned
I cant help but smile because mile after mile
I own acres and acres of land
I was born to a wealthy family
My path to the top was well planned
It is a real boon that silver spoon
And acres and acres of land
Yes I was born into riches
My tenants say I should be damned
But I don't really care because out there
I own acres and acres of land
black acres sorround me flat as ice, and there you are the only light, in all this flat
blackness the only thing that seems to shine, how I wish I could feel your warmth,
warming my life, my body, like you always have, as long as you dont become a black
acre my love for you will continue.
There are some people
who find gardening
to be a very relaxing hobby.
I am not one of those people,
I was born and raised in the city.
The closest to a farm
that I have ever been
is at the supermarket.
But I will admit,
I like the produce section.
and I like picking
Fresh fruit and vegetables.
Everybody in my family
has a green thumb,
with plants growing
on their window seals.
I was not born a green thumb.
But as life would have it,
I am working in two gardens
on the 7 acres of ironbound.
And since the house and property
is owned by my wife's uncle
whose nick name is Shady
I like referring to the place
as the shady rest.
It is here on the
seven acres of ironbound,
that I work with a tractor.
And refer to myself as
Farmer Bob.