Best Hoe Poems

On a Sunday in the evening
The old barn becomes a hall
Social place where every weekend
The town folk go for a ball.
 
The inside is decorated  
Lights are lit, the banners sway
By the walls barrels and cartwheels
Wooden stools and bales of hay.
 
Everybody loves a...

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This long awaited date -
a hoedown it’s to be
shy smiles as we head in
we touch hands nervously

We allemande left and do-si-do
Then both head ladies chain
and breathlessly we meet 
in each other’s arms again

We swirl in sawdust on the floor
to the tune sweet Bye and Bye
Evocative...

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Written by Maurice Yvonne and Seren


Crack that whip, jerk the line, 
Let's start dancing it's no time to dine. 
First you holler, then you sing 
All join hands and make a ring. 

Now if you please circle wide, 
spread right out like an old cow...

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Weeeeel, It's friday night
And I got my fiddle 
Alfred's here 
And he starting to niggle
I said call the dance
And make those folks wiggle
Here at the Soup hoe down

He stood at the mike
And started talkin' silly
with a Do-se-do
Just like a Hillbilly
With an allemande left
Hypocrites to the...

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On a Sunday in the evening
The old barn becomes a hall
Social place where every weekend
The town folk go for a ball.

The inside is decorated  
Lights are lit, the banners sway
By the walls barrels and cartwheels
Wooden stools and bales of hay.

Everybody loves a shindig
Where square...

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The dancing pardners, dressed in dungarees,
With checkered shirts, and Stetsons,  boots and spurs,
Are at a wedding. Joy the bride now asks 
The band to play a tune that she prefers.
 
The fiddle music made ’em tap their toes,
But what she wants just brings the...

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Crack that whip, jerk the line, 
Let's start dancing it's no time to dine. 
First you holler, then you sing 
All join hands and make a ring. 

Now if you please circle wide, 
spread right out like an old cow hide. 
Feed the Hogs, brand...

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The crop has been harvested, the moon has turned red. 
All our chores are now finished, the cows have been fed. 
Time to put on our best blue jeans, spit polish our boots. 
Let down our long hair, get back to our country roots. 
Billy...

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crazy steam whistle 
wakes me to a cooler ‘morn
blown loud 
moisture piercing
rock rock rockin'
on grease
on iron
on splintered sleepers 
creaking through 
frost blown meadows
do I jump?
do I stay? 
next station comin'
station bull gonna ride you away
blackjack swingin'
applejack head ringin'
raggedy wine bard
mad mad mad 
for the reach
the...

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Da Microsoft Hoe. (sing it sort of to the tune of 16 tons.)
verse 1
Some people say we're nuthin but bits 'n' bytes.
I grew up fightin' on Sa'day nights.
Nevah thought we'd evah even need a password
Gittin where I'm goin'. I'sa dirty bird.
verse 2
I was bone one...

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The world loves crippling
particularly if weakness
applies to a manner of spoken language
mouth that does not squeaks
is like a hoe with no claws sunk in the ground
only combing and stroking
instead of tearing and crumbling the stony grass...

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She eats the soil
cuts all worms under
bruises her breasts
with broken teeth she goes back
but no pat on her back...

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Like a sappy fruit
in vice of time,
a slobber root -
a top cut by a knife.

Thick drops in a pot
down slowly trickle,                        ...

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Contest: Warrior Sonnet
Sponsor: John Lawless
September 15, 2020
Petrarchan sonnet: abbaabba cdcdcd

Song of the Humble Scythe

My fellow men at arms, today we fight!
Courageous men of fields, that left the plough,
our foes have come; you hear their drums, but now
our storm will wet the soil with crimson might!
Your...

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hoe poe hops, listens
long needle beak plunges in
fresh grub breakfast...

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