Long Barn Poems
Long Barn Poems. Below are the most popular long Barn by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Barn poems by poem length and keyword.
The barn rooster crows
Big and little ones arise
It’s a country life
Life of work and fun
Hunor must rise with the sun
Laughing has its turn
Everyone must try
From here to the by and by
Make the load lighter
“Where y’all going now
We fixin’ to milk the cow
You shore y’all know how”
Tomorrow we go
Downtown to the picture show
Once out the short rows
Pa ain’t keen ‘bout it
Thinks it’s the old devil’s way
To get hard earned dime
Ma says it’s alright
But we must behave ourselves
Do what the Book says
Again in the fields
Plowing the dirt with ole mule
Life turns on slow wheels
Work sunup to dusk
Ain’t no need to fret or fuss
No one gives a cuss
Milking the old cow
Plowing, praying, and laughing
Bygone country life
I had a red jeep once,
my husband rigged it up with
Christmas lights on the running board.
I was puffed up about it.
My grandparents had the best
Christmas lights; they were jewel-toned,
and bubbled up and down, like a lava lamp,
before lava lamps were a thing, back in
the 50's.
my parents had the same boring, drab,
fat-bulbed red, blue, green, and orangish-yellow
Christmas lights. We wanted something better, but
these were already paid for.
The best Christmas light was the time I put on a Sunday
School play with 85 children. My vision was to rig up a giant
white star in the back of someone's pick up truck, and the children and their parents would all follow the lit up star from the church to
the sale barn, which was our stable.
I had to call all of the people in the church directory, because no one could figure out how to do it until I reached a man whose last name began with a Z. I think I can do that he said, and he did!
I will never forget the awesomeness of this Christmas light though; it was my all-time favorite Christmas light. The procurement of it was awful at the time, but is so sweet in the memory now. So worth the trouble!
Dear Life, please nourish me today
On an aching morn tired and tedious soften mv wind with scents of vanilla tea and baked pages from a magazine's tray. The cloud too near molds a destitute face.
A mirror of darkened. twisted hair
and wrinkled brows veil my skin
much older than the antique chair...
Wasting time on a lease
without solace in blowing circles
of morning breeze that cannot hear
the raging wire and chimes in my head.
A trembling wail crushes a broken bell
like barn owl's tenor
Say something, speak to me
upon this chilled midnight---
The one I hunger for doesn't answer or reply
Vanilla tea melts my tears in pain.
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Originally Written 7.17.2016
Resubmitted 11.18.2017
Contest: Choose A Topic: A, B, C or D
Two of a kind, two in a barn;
A turtle, a goat in a barn.
One was wise, one not; both entered
A barn via hidden narrow gate.
The barn was full, food was plenty,
Both were hungry, lean and empty;
Down they settled, rapt in the fare.
Often, the turtle would scuttle
To the gate, slide smoothly and bask.
"What's the matter?" the goat dared ask.
"Nothing, just to gauge, who knows when..."
The goat chuckled, back to the feast.
Soon a bang, the owner had come;
To safety the turtle did thrum;
And the goat, he struggled, screaming,
"Ah! My belly, the gate's narrow."
The turtle answered, "The barn's full,
Not the stomach—ever a fool."
© 2014 Celestine S. Ikwuamaesi
once while sailing on the sea
my sail boat sunk deserting me
i treaded water as long as i could
i needed something like a block of wood
but just when there was no hope left
just before my very last breath
there came beside me and lifted me up
a dolphin who would eventually
shore me up. i named him flipper
once while walking through the woods
i got lost like only i could
i did'nt know east from west
and concluded i was in a terrible mess
and to make things worse there began a terrible fire
get out of these wood's was my greatest desire
i was surounded by smoke and flames
and i knew that this was the end of the game
when then came running to my rescue
a great black horse, i jumped on him
that horse he took me straight to the barn
away from the fire, away from all harm
a boy came out and brushed his mane
i thanked the boy who told me Fury was his name
once when i was just a little boy
my daddy got me a puppy dog
a full blooded collie with papers and all
after that nothing was good enough
for me and my dog
we went here and we went there
the people they loved us everywhere
when ever i talked it was like he knew what i was saying
late at night while we look at the star's
we would have conversations
one night i had a diabedic sesure
no one to help except my dog
he knocked the phone off the reciever and dialed 911
my dog lassie saved me from certian death
Form:
The sun barbequed the skin, raising a tenderized pink glow
to the cheeks of the children in the ramshackle red barn.
The three story hay loft partly empty was bristling with tikes.
Pincushioned with straw, sharp as needles,
in their hair, tee-shirts and socks
an “itch-o-rama” of gross magnitude.
Hoarse screams of “Geronimo!”
propel a girl child out ward, over the abyss;
letting go directly over the haystack on the first floor.
Barn boards groan under the weight of her flailing form.
Sweet, so sticky sweet, was the air with sweat, hayseed, and manure.
Red welts form on errant scratches rising up on the her skinny arms.
The boy plops from the thick dangling rope inches from her.
“Hi-Ho Silver!” he hollers; kissing her cheek with a big wet raspberry,
running deer-like from the barn doors toward the pastures awaiting bossy.
Up the stone tossed rock wall he clambers at ankle breaking pace.
Leaping from stone wall to the cow’s back;
“Come on, chicken!” he yells.
The girl follows more timidly watching out for
the broken, blue-bottle, glass shards
that poke out from between the fieldstones.
Reaching cow side, she blows brown hair from her face.
Hands on her tiny hips, she eyes the cow and rider.
The cow's evil eye stares at her from one side of its huge head.
He slaps the cow's rump. Sneakers wail into cowhide
and with an indignant bellow of disgust rider and cow are off, girless,
toward the saltlick, leaving the kiss
and the red barn, but a memory.
*PS I am the girl LOL, I had a kissin' Cousin!
In the barn turned snack bar,
I scraped the face of my big toe
ascending the stairs. I didn’t care.
Sucrose sweets, summertime treats
belonged between my loosening teeth
Rotting wood, bumblebees
yellow plastic baseball bats
rolling hills flowed in the break of trees
God was shaking the dust out of his welcome mats
At the time He appealed to me, because
sunbeams were his means to call us home,
His warm tender tractor beam
pulling souls wherever they shone
so encapsulating
so intoxicating
so comforting
Please harpoon me my Lord of Light
pull me in, I’m a prize of a catch.
For every day that I stay here, a chipwich
becomes a less appealing snack.
Gather round while I spin a yarn
'bout a young gal, grew up in a barn
With horses and cows, she had her own stall
She loved taking care of them, most of all
She'd feed the horses and milk every cow
Nobody ever showed her quite how
She worked so hard, she rubbed her hands raw
Baling the hay and bundling the straw
Well, year after year she took care of her tasks
Secretly hoping that someone would ask
Her out on a date or some such like that
But she was afraid of men and a little bit fat
One summer day the sky turned pitch black
A tornado was brewing, there was no turning back
It stormed right on in, a-whirling and whooshing, a picture of awe
All her hay swept away, she clutched at two pieces of straw
She hung on to those straw strands with all of her might
As they swilled and swirled, and flew up out of sight
The last folks saw of her, she was high up in the sky
Singin' -- "To heck with horses! I'm a bird; I can fly!"
September 10, 2020
Clutching at Straws Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
Behold my heralded new beginning
When I've been sinning instead of winning
Afraid of my own shadow
It was some kind of fad though
So take a seat and hear my yarn
It has enough gas to burn down the barn
I'm done being a doormat
I'm tired of this fat
And my offset eyes
Won't be my demise
Shy guys get left behind
Rewind, because that won't be how I'm defined
I've got a talent for verse
And I don't even have to rehearse
Because I'm filled with thirst
And ready to burst
Don't you dare turn away
Today this monster is ready to slay
Breaking free of the chains
And persistent pains
My lanes are in the sky
Where I'm ready to spread my wings and fly
Because the road is rocky
And I'm feeling cocky
I build bridges with wisdom and wit
Though I must admit
I've got a long way to go
Before I'm truly ready to flow
Give me a chance
I'll offer my hand for this dance
Behold for this is me
I've escaped the shadows to at last be free
High ho Hill Bill is singing the hillbilly blues
It’s not a bad life, yet, not one that I’d choose
He’s wailing like a cat with a pinched big toe
Singing the blues up and down in summer and snow.
They found me under a spoiled apple tree
I was never a good boy, no one wanted me.
My daddy ran off with the housewife next door.
I looked just like him, so my behind was always sore!
My mom took his discretions out of my little hide.
I was never welcome in the house, or anywhere inside.
My bed was in the barn, I slept with a mouse and a cow.
Being grunted at by a gas-passing horse and a worse passing sow.
It’s not a bad life, yet not one that I’d choose.
This is why I am forever singing the hillbilly blues.
I want to get on tv, or at least the afternoon news.
But no one wants me except for liquor and booze.