Long Agricultural Poems
Long Agricultural Poems. Below are the most popular long Agricultural by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Agricultural poems by poem length and keyword.
Biochemistry—the chemistry of life’s design,
Where molecules dance, interlink, and align,
A bridge between cells, atoms, and earth,
Defining each process, from death to birth.
From cells to tissues, to systems whole,
Biochemistry reveals life’s molecular role.
Atoms join with bonds of varied might—
Covalent, ionic, in complex rite.
Molecular structures, their shapes decide,
How functions emerge and systems collide.
Water, polar and bound by bonds unseen,
Becomes life’s solvent and essential scene.
Carbohydrates fuel, in branching chains,
While proteins give shape, structure, and gains.
Lipids form membranes, barriers and walls,
And nucleic acids hold life's codes, small but tall.
Each plays its part, in pathways intertwined,
The building blocks of life, so meticulously designed.
Catabolism breaks, releasing life’s spark,
Anabolism builds, leaving nature's mark.
Glycolysis starts, the fuel we ignite,
The citric cycle follows, energy in sight.
ATP fuels the cells’ endless demands,
In bioenergetic chains, life expands.
The enzymes, catalysts that spark each course,
Signal transductions, relay with molecular force.
Channels open, gates control flow,
Compartmented spaces, with roles to show.
Each process precise, a well-ordered dance,
In the cell’s intricate, coordinated trance.
DNA spirals, a double helix of code,
Blueprints of life in sequences bestowed,
Transcription to RNA, a message to read,
Translation to proteins, each cell’s vital creed.
Genes regulated, expressions controlled,
A symphony of life meticulously told.
With spectrums and gels, we separate, define,
Electrophoresis’ bands, chromatogram’s line,
PCR amplifies genes to explore,
CRISPR edits, opens new doors.
These tools unearth life’s secrets concealed,
In every lab, mysteries revealed.
From medicine’s cures to agricultural yields,
Biochemistry stretches across modern fields.
Personalized treatments, precision designed,
Green tech and ethics, the future aligned.
At life’s smallest scale, in molecules profound,
The promise of science and progress is found.
To honor Harry memory
a much loved and respected poet
He could cast a spell with his clear verse
identifying himself with any sonnet
with first class reviews
No shortage of inspiration
He put into words what most of us can only feel
On the towpath ... between memories and the sea
sand slips out between the fingers
Harry kept his dream alive
(watch, train journeys via You Tube)
a desire to experience Norway by train
pass vast agricultural landscapes
through a rich selection of nature experiences
Sparkling blue rivers and gushing waterfalls
Winding mountain roads, fjords and valleys
Churches from the 17th century
Humble aging farms in places
one would have thinking that no one could live
_____ one day we'll drive this journey together
... you and me ... Harry
R.I.P.
24.05.2023
Anne-Lise Andresen
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Tributes to Harry Horsman
Sponsored by: Andrea Dietrich
1st place in the contest
As a lad, agrarian affairs held for me very little charm.
I could hardly wait to escape that toilsome Hoosier farm!
From early dawn when my Dad would have me rouse,
There were always things to tend be it garden, hogs or cows!
Milkin' a herd of cows began the daily farm routine.
This was done by hand since we had no milkin' machine.
There were hordes of horses, goats and chickens to be fed,
And the onerous task of curryin' the mules, Clyde and Fred!
Tater bugs must be picked from acres of pertaters,
And weeds to hoe from never endin' rows of termaters!
The old John Deere was cranked to plow and harrow the fields,
To prepare to plant the corn and wheat for our annual yields!
In summer came the shockin' of sheaths of golden wheat,
Fightin' nettlesome sweatbees in the swelterin' Hoosier heat!
October brought no respite since we shucked the corn by hand,
Pluckin' rows upon rows of the stuff that never seemed to end!
Nowadays, I'm told that farmin' is done with relative ease,
By a new breed of sodbusters with agricultural degrees,
Ownin' air-conditioned tractors and fancy milkin' machines,
Sportin' Stetson hats, alligator boots and smart designer jeans!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
City Girl-Country Girl
I swore I would never live in a small town.
I wanted noise, people and the
roar of the crowd.
Crowded restaurants, highways,
Exhaust fumes galore.
Sounds of police cars all over
town.
Lounges, theaters and 24 hour
anything!
Those bright lights, you know?
And twenty-four action, no matter
where you go.
I never dreamt I would end up
in agricultural, wine-country
USA.
Here, street lights are not ugly,
bright and garish.
As for churches, there are many
to choose from and to cherish.
No security cameras in unwanted
places to get your mugshot, how
disgraceful that is!
Where verdant trees grow and
gardens bloom year round.
125 varieties of grapes, too?
Ga-zounds!
And stores are not jammed and
parking for all abounds.
Where all in my neighborhood
wave as we pass each other in
snow free cars.
And life is more than good here.
It grows by leaps and bounds.
Have to say...life here is more
than heavenly and a daily treat!
July 11, 2019
Noon PST
The farmer sent his son to agricultural school for an education,
To see if he could learn anything about an agrarian vocation.
Professors filled his head with ideas about operating a farm.
Such nonsense caused the old man raging headaches and alarm!
"Son, when it comes to farmin', them perfessors ain't got a clue.
I've been farmin' nigh on fifty years and I'm a-tellin' you,
Yer book-larnin' and them silly ideas is all outta whack;
This here farm is run by the moon and the Farmer's Almanac!"
"Now, when you plant pertaters, one thing is very plain.
You plow and sow 'em when the moon is on the wane.
When it comes to makin' hay, don't never cut it too soon;
Wait til it's a-bloomin' and mow in the full of the moon."
"When butcherin' hogs, you must do it when it's opportune,
And that means you kill 'em at the right time of the moon.
Let the Farmer's Almanac be yer guide when plantin' seeds.
It's also helpful fer prunin' trees and killin' noxious weeds."
"There'll be platoons of county agents a-tellin' me what to do.
Them fellers can talk all they want til their face is blue!
They'll try to change my ways, but I ain't hummin' that old tune.
This here place is run by the Almanac and hangin' of the moon!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Good news, is spreading around the world,
country's that where once committing genocide,
have now realised, that, their people can be assets.
Where once they had a million, mouths to feed and no money
now they have employees, waiting for the creation of jobs.
America and the Muslim's have realised, that they can create
a symbiotic relationship, where the product's of one county
can be sold, to enhance the growth of both.
People have realised, that by having only two children
per family they can build a world of peace, where those
children will live to enjoy their live's.
The world is growing up, instead of looking to a future
full of dread, instead of waiting on the end of the world,
people are working together, to build a better life, now.
People are investing in new technology's, sustainable
technology's, that will enhance our needs for energy.
Desalination plants are being created, reclaiming land for
agricultural purposes, insuring that the world's population
will be well feed.
The world is being turned into a garden paradise, where our
children will learn and love, to enjoy.
Religion is coming together with the state, realising that idle hands
are the devils play ground, ministers are behind a world wide effort,
to create employment, for the unemployed.
Educational institutions, are creating the brains behind the organisation,
working with statistic's they are using the maths, to work out how many
farms, the world require's, and what products to grow.
People are changing to new technology's, that will repair the Ozone layer,
the future is looking brighter, than it ever has before.
A handsome hacienda down San Fernando way,
Whose curled sunburned tiles once gleamed from Apollo’s rays
Was home to gentle farmers who worked their crops each day;
And slept in peace while brown night hawks would flirt and play.
Furrowed flowing lines full of fruits and crops, row on row
By workers in torn jeans, with strong hands, made to grow;
Clearing weeds, harvesting as soon as they were able;
To fill up trucks to haul crops for waiting tables.
Big wheels rolled progress in bringing asphalt and cement.
Bold builders paid out cash to further their intent
To turn land beyond agricultural revisions
And erect malls, high rises and subdivisions.
The nurturing life of dirty hands in days of yore
Left for bountiful crops of Valley Girls galore.
What exactly is home and where is it? And why is it vital that we know about 'Home'?
And how will I really know when I have arrived home? Some say that home is the place where one was born.
Others say that it's the place where one's story begins. Is it just a geographical place of origin or something more?
If something more or something less, what's the more or the less?
The main road and railroad tracks were there long before I arrived late summer of 1949. That huge rustic tower overlooking everything and the big seed and fertilizer building where we threw rocks against the coca cola sign are gone forever, and so is the big store in the center of town where we bought ice cream bars and sodas for a dime. Those geographical images of my place of origin are mostly still intact, and the agricultural crops of corn and beans are still being produced, but most of the people are gone.
My childhood friends and relatives, most of whom I have not seen in more than 50 years have all moved North, South, East, and West. And I guess my move west and the scattering of all the rest was best for most because I have never once heard any sounds of protest. I do suppose that the lighting bugs we often saw and the crickets we heard late at night chose to remain.
In my case, I guess when you sum it all up, I'd have to say that home is where your heart is, and I took it with me everywhere I went. I can often hear the ending of a song I heard many years ago. "And I like where I am today and this is where I'll stay". For me, the first part of that line is true, and would to God the second part was too but unfortunately, it holds no promises for me.
06172019PoSoup
Exercising belief about unknowns.
Makes sense to take your best guess.
Using history, numbers, extrapolation.
Getting the trajectory right for re-entry.
Few dissenters left for climate change, evolution.
Nuclear power brings a process to earth
that occurs only in space. Dangerous
but necessary? Not a risk-averse weasel.
One among many mammals is the weasel,
not known for its consideration of unknowns
but, for its extreme caloric needs, considered dangerous.
My wife says in England violent gusts
forced a locomotive off its tracks. One interpretation
might reasonably be that the mother, earth,
has stopped mothering man. We're entering
a period of unknowns and must evolve.
What might this involve
and what adjustments are possibly feasible?
Walking rather than riding to the subway entrance,
using less electricity until more is known,
preserving agricultural soils and forest land,
buying fewer plastic contraptions.
My brother's washing his pajamas less often.
None of this may make the slightest difference
in how the earth and the sun and universe revolve.
But we are human and addicted to action,
the probable less attractive than the possible.
Also, there's no percentage in respecting death
unless it's imminent. Better to remain centered,
focused on food, child-bearing, war and the poem.
All driveways plowed, all lawns mowed.
Just in time before the first snow, I raked our leaves.
Two eight hour days. What percent of all time is that?
Draw a ray with point A the first pile of leaves
extending to the extrapolating end of universe.
.01 of Aaron. Zero of Zach.
Hawks playing, hunting, mating, canaries in the mine.
Having been too many places to count.
Sex bars, infant formulas, fire crews, last rites, permanent jobs, traffic
tickets, judges' chambers, out houses, wedding banquets, boiling
teapots, frantic centuries, facial tissues, presumed innocent, clear
intentions, stainless steel.
Spiderweb glove. Deerfly earring. Daddylonglegs seeingeyedog.
Memorized songs. Privatized loans.
You cannot know what you're doing until you've done it.
Erudite sweep the floor. Articulate make the bed.
Infrared town hall. Crab nebula. Your last crap.
Eye of the tropical January sun. Slouching toward temperate zone.
In 3005 in the uncharted Dispision Galaxy
a dwarf planets largest volcano erupts.
A pink and pale bluish midst and lava
Hearlds towards a deep; deep large ravine.
An explotion accures, ash and steam is sent
barreling to the sky; way beyond the frail
atmosphere. A traveling drone captures the
events with realtime data feeds sent to
many, many nations. A space Frigget Headed
By Food Chef Admiral Vissar plots a course
to view the sight. The agricultural ship USS
Cantourious arrives to obscure the spectical.
Not knowing The Salvage Satalite Harvesting
Vessel Capitain. By Pres Caption Ritonn of
a privately owned company, who's vessel is
cloaked behind the astroid Vagus Sixx.
Without communications, both ships had been
monitored by a First-class Warship from the
Listerium Empire of Frustra, who's Second in
command had couped the ship and was eager
for confrontation and debate. Citing the natural
Phenomenon a Taughtoury to give excuse for
her crew and her own actions! She wish her superiors
to see her as frustrated and in rightmind to command
as her Superior was lasered for asking her for time alone
where he could dismiss the current crew do to lack
of interest in the current condition of the crew. Rumored she
Lasered him and accused him of Hymnosious for
Impregnating a unofficial member of the crew.She saw the wan as weak and poor, and refused to support there
union!