Best Barnyard Poems


Premium Member Chicken Singing Turkey In the Straw

Buck buck buh-buck-buck
Buck buck buh-buck
Buck buck, buck buck, buck buck buck
Bucka buck bucka bucka buck
A'buck buck buck.

Buh-KAW k'buck buck
Buh-KAW k'buck
Buh-KAW k'buck buck
Buh-KAW k'buck
Buck buck buck buck
Buck buck buck
Bucka buck bucka bucka buck
A'buck buck buck.

Premium Member Back To the Barnyard - Security At the Hen House

Security at the Hen House

All around the peaceful barn yard				 	
  everyone’s  sleeping while I’m on graveyard		 			
    watching for the shrewd  fox dude	
		 
Cock-a-doodle-doo! I spew				 
      Time all  lazy diehards to punch your card    		 

Old Owl who….oting in the hayloft flew	
	
      Rooster,  you steer us with no  clue		
  you just want brew some sugars			
    from the crew of lookers			
       Yay or Nay ?	Then bid them adieu	

Oh! Hush!   Old Owl with your who..  hoot
 Shoo… I’ll mute your hoot  with a boot 
  let that  shrewd fox dude
   substitute you for  stew food
      
            The Old Owl left with a who…ot


3/8/2016

Poetry Contest : Back To The Barnyard - 
 Sponsored by: Matt Caliri
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.

22 Shorts In a Barnyard Vise

Have you ever thought back and remembered a time,
when poor judgment nearly cost you… your prime.
There were fifty-22 cal bullets in the ammo box I found,
 mishandling Remington’s bullets… could put you in the ground.

Putting the box in my pocket, thinking what should I do?
Squeeze off one in the barnyard vise… or maybe do two.
BANG! BANG! Loud reports and pungent gunpowder did abound.
How addictive that fragrance… 48 more lay waiting on the ground.

The next five/six bullets went into holes on the lip of the vise,
swinging that heavy sledgehammer… really felt nice.
Each bullet exploded leaving its’ brass case in the steel.
The heavy sledgehammer gave lead… no mortal body to feel.

BANG! BANG! BANG! The shells reported in rapid succession.
Used everyway possible firing all the bullets… in my possession.
50 times in a row I cheated death and great bodily harm.
God knows he was more than patient… that day on the farm.


* A true story. © 2010 John M. Trusty


Premium Member Barnyard Chickens

It has been said that we are,
A quiet, curious, sweet bird, full of personality;
We have tons of sisters (brothers) and a mom and father with no feathers,
Love our seed, food scraps and treats given daily;
Feel loved, protected and cuddled, so we lay an egg or two each day,
Our biggest fear is becoming dinner;
Would like to live to be over 20 years old,
Resident of grandpa's farm;
Barnyard chickens.

When I was a small girl, my grandpa had a little farm,
It was not a working farm but a retirement dream of his;
He had some animals like horses, chickens and even a donkey,
But, I truly loved his chickens they were super-duper sweet.

Our father was a nice old man called grandpa,
And there was mother grandma, who brought treats;
But, we loved the little girl the best because she cuddled us,
From the time we were fat little handfuls of adorable cuteness.

They were such happy birds, extremely calm,
When I would bring their seed they would come running;
Clucking all the way, so talkative, cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck,
They were cuddly with feathers beautifully soft and lovely.

It was a wonderful, peaceful existence for us chickens,
Grandpa's farm was full of interesting places to go;
Like grandma's garden patch and she would come running,
Chasing us with her broom but laughing, so we knew she loved us.

Oh, time has passed, the pages turned, and turned,
Grandpa and grandma are in their heavenly realm now,
And I am not a small girl anymore, but a city girl all grown-up,
After grandpa died, grandma sold the farm, animals and chickens.

But, I will always remember those inquisitive, beautiful birds.

____________________________
February 20, 2016

Poetry/Verse/Barnyard Chickens
Copyright Protected, 16-759-828-0
All Rights Reserved.  Written under Pseudonym.

Premium Member Back To the Barnyard

My owners call me horse
You'd think I was barnyard watch dog
Fancy that. My spot beneath a shaded guava tree
Face rustic oversize shack with wide veranda
Where they rock. They watch me feed
Where green grass grow, where fowls and pigs stray
Feasting on ripe guavas, some bounce off my back
I don't mind that; not even the weight of my owner
Or his wife, riding me on certain days -
Wild smell of their plantation cling to me
They'd groom me from ticks, and feed me well
But their adopted son knew unsavory tricks
He'd grin, tickling parts of me with a bamboo stick.

One morn my owners stayed so long
I felt out of place, tormented by and by
That mischievous boy reached and pulled my tail
A horse knows only one way to kick
So an awful lick made him shout. He was out
From across the road, one hurried half stunned.

Sun at its zenith sat and watched
It was I, carrying my tormentor on my back
Seemed I walked a million miles
So he could be seen by a Doc
We walked and walked, until
Rain clouds cautioned us to turn back.

Day after day, I would watch Reggie at a distance
Sitting, staring, staying his hands straight.
...

Sponsor... Matt Caliri
Contest Name...'Back To The Barnyard'
Date...3-14-16

Premium Member Back To the Barnyard

When strangers see me they laugh
Thinking I have no class
But I tell the farmer they're here
Cause I'm smart and I have no fear
I'm the guardian most preferred
Over cattle, goat and sheep herds
I always announce all strangers
And alert of immediate danger
I'm loyal, gentle and kind
Jump higher than any equine
Stronger than many men put together
A nanny or surrogate, whatever?
Here comes my owner now
I'll pretend I'm as dumb as a cow
He serves breakfast but no demi tasse
"Good morning, you old jackass"
Then I grin and loudly bray
Cause hee haw, hee haw, hee halways talks to me that way


    Feb 18  2016  by Daniel Turner


Back To the Barnyard

My name is Tom and I'm the cat here on Manor Farm 
Let me introduce you  to the gang .
I rule the roost as you will see and ginger the chicken she agrees. 
The stable door top half open ,Mr Ed the horse says morning  well he is a talking horse !
And daisy giving milk she's my favourite,  cant think why ! 
I stroll over to the sty and give Dave a hi  who's one happy looking pig 
Shaun the sheep is in his field playing with his kids  
and Shep the sheep dog is sat in the shed and he his  fast asleep
And that's how he will stay, as I don't fancy being chased today.
Now over to the duck pond to see Donald and his crew.  Huey , Dewey, and Louie 
And finally to the farm house where the humans live. who are pretty good to me !

However them there humans have some nasty  traits 
They eat gingers kids for breakfast 
Dave is turned into bacon and daisy into  steak 
Shaun gets the chop with mint and peas and the Donald is sold to the local Chinese 
and Sheps pups are  sold as a pets. 
and Mr Ed is made to chases Fox's. Which is really not the best !    
so all in all I'm just saying us animals are the best .  






The cast 

Manor farm : animal farm the farm out the book 
Ginger : chicken run
Mr Ed : the talking horse  60 sitcom .
Daisy : magic roundabout  children's  TV program 
Dave : are well  been naughty here Google  David Cameron and pigs,  humm  best not 
Shaun : the sheep children's TV character 
Shep : a dog on a UK children's program Blue peter 
Donald :  Disney duck and his nephews 
Humans : Us 

comp entry 15022016

Barnyard Fowl

 sunrise glows
hens aware of his presence
the rooster crows
© Ann Roske  Create an image from this poem.

Back To the Barnyard

Back TO THE BARNYARD
I slip outside, my tail a twirl
where my whiskers test the breeze.
Such disgusting cretins so uncouth
and a few that make me sneeze. (HISS)

I slink and skirt past porcine ones 
and the cows are crashing bores.
yellow chicks, forbidden fruit
or they’ll toss me out the door. (MEOW)

I pause to sit, stare down the cock
as he struts and preens for show
I ought to bat him once for luck
but those humans… well, you know. (YAWN)

Off to work at my specialty:
feline hunter-cruel and cold.
My fur goes up and my ears go back
For this mouse will not grow old. (MMMROW)

Premium Member The Talk of the Barnyard

She is the talk of the barnyard the alpaca’s whispered in tones.
She is gorgeous, leggy, furry, and she has the prettiest bones.
We were anxious to meet her but were jealous right away of course.
Everyone was super excited about her beauty, even the camel and horse.

Barnyard Birds

I love chickens, roosters and hens-
I like to watch them walk in their pens,
Big, red roosters with combs on their heads-
Little, red hens who roost high in their beds.

Chickens are dumb and That is a fact-
Out among others they show very little tact,
If they were human, they'd be sent off to school,
So they could learn the Golden Rule.

Ducks and geese also wander the farm,
They waddle and honk to show their charms-
Ducks :Quack-quack" to show their form
Of conversing with others early in the morn.

All birds lay eggs which is of course normal-
They sit on them to keep the young birds warmer,
Then when baby birds hatch, they are perfectly formed 
And can eat some grain just as soon as they're born.

God loves variety, and great beauty, too-
When He created the birds, He really was true,
For all of His creatures who fly or walk
Show off His artistry as they sing or squawk.

Premium Member Barnyard Follies

My chicken has been flickin'
Her feathers in the hay
The cattle waged a battle
In their field the other day
A turkey feeling perky
Jumped up and ran away
Feeling daft, I laughed and laughed,
That's all I've got to say.

Premium Member Barnyard Bouquet

BARNYARD BOUQUET

Poor Mahitabel
Got et the yard boys do tell
Little Johnny’s pet

Johnny’s pal got et
Noisiest bird iver heard
Gobblin day and night

Ran em plum ragged
Put up one helluva fight
What a bedlam sight

Premium Member Barnyard Rump With a Duck Named Trump

into the barnyard with a high knee-jerk

a yellow duck waddles in with a smirk

it pecks the hens on the rump

Old Mac Donald named it Trump

like the president he's hard up at work


9/15/2017
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member News From the Barnyard

It was morning in the barnyard, and no breakfast could be found
Fred Rooster and his brood of hens, pecked clean the barren ground
The morning air was misty, with dark and cloudy skies
Across a busy highway, with traffic whizzing by
There were fertile fields just planted, with seedlings in fine rows
So they flapped their wings and feathers flew, they made the dash, somehow!

"YUM!" said Fred the Rooster, as he watched the brood confirm..
"First come, first serve"....he would declare, "Early birds will get the worms!"

Miss Rhoda Red was late to rise...so occupied while in her nest
Too late to fetch some breakfast, she far behind all the rest
She cackled out to all her friends..."I'm as whooped as I can be"....
I laid a whopper, and I'm exhausted!.....It took so much from me!!
I huffed and I puffed, I grunted hard, and pushed out such a load
T'was the biggest egg I ever laid....I thought I would explode !"

"Cock a doodle do, a good old egg are you! " ...
"Cross over here, my darlin' Red....your tummy will be fed!"
So happy now, her whopper laid, and since she'd shed that load
With room to spare, starved like a bear.... 

That's why the chicken crossed the road!




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