Best Farmers Poems
FARMERS WISH
Woke up this morning with the sun in my eyes
Wishing for rain in the clear blue skies
We’re faced with a problem every single day
Our stocks are all dying right were they lay
Tanks are all empty once again, bore’s all dead & dry
Banks want more money, but lord how I try
Year after year praying for rain
Hail Mary, my prayers are in vein
I can remember when I was a boy
My dad and his dad too, had so much green
Had so much green green grass
We used to play and swim in the creek
But all that I’m left with is barren ground
More dead sheep, stacked ten deep
I can’t give up not while I breath
Cause I’m a fair dinkum Aussie guy,
Who never ever gives up
Too much to live for before I say goodbye
So while there is food on the table and a beer in hand
I’ll keep on fighting for my home on the land
With my wife standing tall along my side
We’ll keep on fighting till the day we say goodbye
When a Norwegian cow passes gas
They want to tax the gas from its ‘ass’
A cow passes 4 tonnes of methane each year
Just imagine the stink from its rear!!!!
Thanks for the inspiration Anne Lise ***
Jan Allison
31st March 2016
The Farmers prayer
Tired days and prosperous nights
Stretching forward like an endless flight,
Towards the hour and through the night
In cascades of energy and bursts of light
My day is drained I long for night,
Give me rest from my toil
The power to rise and till my soil.
Morning rooster calls
Daylight breaks the horizon
Time for work lets go
Stand on the veranda, look out in the fields
Can anyone know how great nature feels?
The pumpkins are growing on the vines
The grapes are harvested for great wines.
There’s golden hay, bailed for winter feed
Nourishing flocks with all that they’ll need.
Cows will be milked, eggs gathered each day
Sore backs or a cold will not get in the way.
Even after the snows cover the ground
Those daily chores will always abound.
Morning thru night, the work will come
It is their mission to feed everyone.
From the dawn of time they’ve been there
Nourish the masses with food everywhere.
Without them the world would not be fed
Sometimes their future is filled with dread.
Violent storms and drought will test them all
Yet with perseverance they refuse to fall.
Farmers were called by their love of the land
Our thanks to them all, as proudly they stand.
KANSAS WHEAT FARMERS
The sky so still, one summer's afternoon,
as golden seas of wheat filled up the eye,
this was our dream, and harvest time was soon
but then the dark came to a troubled sky.
The clouds rolled in, and thunder filled the air
as winds blowed in the scent of coming rain
whipping our sea of gold from here to there
and ruthlessly tore at each golden grain.
When all at once, the wind died to a still
and sinking hearts, as stones of hail fell on
to where the dream was helpless to the kill
and beaten down--the dream we had was gone.
Then kneeling in our faith--though now in pain,
we pray for strength to try it all again.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
(El Niño and desertification…..)
Broken land has long since died,
clouds now for years have lied.
The awaited rains so often fail.
Million’s hearts with hunger wail.
Scorching sun bears to burn.
Hardened tilth, refuses to turn.
No burden beast left with a drive,
nor baked son who harkens strive.
The wooden yolk cracked and dry,
as sheep and dogs all lazy lie.
Village square where elders sat,
laughed and jeered, tobacco spat.
Drinks they downed by the score,
with caution now in tea cups pour.
“Targa clan’s women are whores….
incredible tusks of a shot down boar.”
Broken dangles the shanty’s door,
and hollow rings the folksy lore.
Humming wheel of miller’s store.
Hurt and pain of farmers bore.
That drove it once, the feed is dry,
at parks no more the children cry.
Silent cringes the neighbor’s cat.
Now scarce to see a scurrying rat.
The calling kith, from dusty deed,
watch with horror, our lives bleed.
Wordless in graves our fallen kin.
While we entombed in our dusty bin.
Hear their footsteps echo still.
As we slink! The graveyards fill
original
saadat tahir
11, Nov 2k11
(Islamabad)
Exegesis:
Inspired by a well known / well read poem…“Freeman’s Mill”
El Niño: (many links removed...)
http://philobiblon.co.uk/?p=3631
http://www.fews.net/Pages/Horn-of-Africa-Emergency.aspx
http://ccb.colorado.edu/ijas/ijasno2/georgis.html
http://www.greenleft.org.au/node/29030
Harvest is over
crops are in and
Fall’s first killing frost
stirs feelings of melancholy
sustained by winter's cold
With its bare trees
migration, hibernation
wisdom of fallow fields and
mice attempting entry
during long, cold nights
Yet farmers are never idle
caring for their animals
cleaning, repairing equipment
checking their fences
cleaning fields and
clearing tree lines
***
November 20, 2019
F G I series 9 idyll
Brian Strand, sponsor
"An idyll is a type of poem that focuses on the normal routines of normal people in a rural setting." -PoetrySoup, Types of Poems - Idyll definition
The sun has risen
A new day has come
Sunlight shines brightly
Cutting through morning fog
There's chores to be tended to
Animals to be fed
Every minute of the day counts
In a poor farmer's head
Working so hard to build his dream
Plowing and harvesting
It has to get done
Just time for a quick bite, before he must run
No time clock or time card to punch in the day
Just relying on sunrise to sunset to measure his pay
Riding his tractor
Just doing his part
To help out the community
He holds dear in his heart
Morning turns to afternoon
The sun beats down on his brow
He sweats but he wipes it away
With his handkerchief cloth
His body so stiff
His poor ankles hurt
He continues despite
He knows all it's worth
When daylight passes
It's time to go home
He'll rest his weary head
Not before thanking the Lord
For his harvestfull life
Pride flags fly high today
Folk music family
Mennonite bureaus
So many melons and windsocks and dreamcatchers
This place signals a rebellion
Echoing antebellum times, seething with vibrancy and it boiled over
And for a moment broke the inertia
Love wins today and today we know
That we are a people of progress
But koyaanisqatsi waits for us outside this field
Just past these barns
Most of us are forced to march with that army too but
We can build a bulwark here and move it out beyond the dusty paths
It is up to you artisans, Amish, millennials, immigrants, farmers, poets
Today I secretly join your ranks
The lion hisses a roar in the farm,
as the chirps of the cat rents the air,
a hound slithers into den of the sheep,
the morning comes darkness is in the air,
The children work parents play in the garden
the goats are barking as the chicken are milked
the cows scatter as the farmer picks their eggs
For the farm is clean and the floor a mirrors reflection
The wolfs meow is heard from the distance
Tension rents the household as children's cluck about
The farmers hooves are heard as the cars heart throttles
Lions courage is felt in the chicken as he bows his shot gun
A chase ventures to the early morning of the evening
Brave hearts lead the wolf into the dark creepy farm of forest
Light fills the void the farmers see not what he wants in the darkness
Yet this is another day in the life of a farmers behavioral family habits
once an amishmans daughter
brought home a talking otter
running in from the field
to her church she revealed
be pleased meet our new brotter.
Flowers, waiting to be sold,
Beckon, brilliant, bright and bold.
Such a colorful array,
Nature’s palette on display.
Veggies also strut their stuff;
One can never buy enough.
Fruits compete to draw the eye;
Hard to pass that freshness by.
Peasant bread and tangy cheese;
Scones and muffins, sure to please.
Home-made pretzels, farm-grown meat;
Supermarkets can’t compete.
Urban spaces seem to thrive
Whenever farmers’ trucks arrive.
We city folk appreciate
The bounty that their farms create.
It must take so much time to prep
And oh, the crates they have to schlep!
We love the peonies and phlox;
The Farmers’ Market really rocks!
Dad was a great piano player
Grandpa Luther was a great man
He burned his wife’s Bible
In 1942, when Colorado farmers
Decided all Germans and Japanese
Threatened them
My grandmother
Got another Bible
English version
She didn’t have to hide
Governor Ralph Lawrence Carr
Was a great man, too
The only one who stood for
The rights of Japanese
–Americans– just like he
Said, “if you harm them
You must harm me.”
Thanks to Governor Ralph
Ito
My grandpa’s neighbor
Remained free
When his haystack was burned
He would not accept charity
So grandpa accepted his trade
Ito’s piano for grandpa’s hay
And that's how Dad
Learned to play
Rejection of Christ
MT 21:33-46
MK 12:1-12
LK 20:9-19
Then he proceeded to tell the people this parable. "(A) man planted a vineyard, leased it to tenant farmers
Then went on a journey for a long time.
At harvest time he sent a servant to the tenant farmers to receive some of the produce of the vineyard
But they beat the servant and sent him away empty-handed. So he proceeded to send another servant, but him also they beat and insulted and sent away empty-handed
Then he proceeded to send a third, but this one too they wounded and threw out
The owner of the vineyard said, 'What shall I do?
I shall send my beloved son; maybe they will respect him.'
But when the tenant farmers saw him they said to one another, 'This is the heir
Let us kill him that the inheritance may become ours.' So they threw him out of the vineyard and killed him
What will the owner of the vineyard do to them? He will come and put those tenant farmers to death and turn over the vineyard to others
" When the people heard this, they exclaimed, "Let it not be so!" But he looked at them and asked
"What then does this scripture passage mean:
'The stone which the builders rejected has become the cornerstone'?
Everyone who falls on that stone will be dashed to pieces; and it will crush anyone on whom it falls
" The scribes and chief priests sought to lay their hands on him at that very hour
But they feared the people, for they knew that he had addressed this parable to them. (LK 20:9-19)