Long Farm Poems
Long Farm Poems. Below are the most popular long Farm by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Farm poems by poem length and keyword.
Inspired by and dedicated to
Sara Kendrick and her poem "Chicken"
I once had a chicken
Came out of his egg kick-in'
He was the strangest thing , I've ever seen
This chicken had two necks but he only had one head
I'm guess-in' that's why he was so mean
I wasn't 'till much later
That a Chef asked the waiter
To go buy some chickens, at my farm
So I told him, as far as chickens
HE, should do the pick-in'
So he grabbed-up the fryer, in his arms
Although it was some trouble
He saw his profits double
Figure-in' to buy one and get one free
The Chef was really please
As he took that bird with ease
Then turned-up the stove a few degrees
He gave the bird a whack,
And there was a sudden thwack
As that little fryer's head, hit the floor
He thought he had struck gold
When he started to unfold
Seeing that the bird, had offered more
Two gizzards and three livers
Is what this bird delivered
And the Chef thought this made a darn good start
But further on inspection
There was a sad detection
The poor little Fryer had no heart
So I've learned, Not to be mean
Or you'll end up a cuisine
So, be nice and kind from the very start
Even if you're bless,
Having more than the all rest
Don't be a little Fryer with no heart
I baptize you with water for repentance. But after me comes one who is more powerful than I, whose sandals I am not worthy to carry. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.
is winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor, gathering his wheat into the barn and burning up the chaff with unquenchable fire.”
Matthew 3:11-12 NIV
Song by George Jones
Perhaps you don’t live on a farm, so let me explain. Threshing wheat is an activity where you take a pitchfork, get a scoop of harvested wheat, and throw it up in the air. You’d always do it in a windy place so the wind could come through and separate the chaff from the wheat. The chaff would be carried away and discarded. Because the kernel of the wheat is heavier, it would fall to the ground and you could collect it and have it to eat.
Therefore, Jesus came to send His spirit within all which seek in this moment. Jesus brought judgement to come upon us in the harvest at hand from His death and resurrection. Into the spirit of fire at Pentacost. We have a battle within over our soul . The spirit of Jesus is the mighty wind which can separate the old self which is no good to be carried away and thrown into the fire.The chaff is of satan which keeps one from seeking Christ , oh what deceiver satan is to try and appear good, but is out to kill,steal and destroy all with division. To become wheat we must be reborn of the spirit promised, eating His bread, the true wisdom, knowledge,and understanding not taught of mankind knowledge of this world, for this new creation is to pull one out this world and to place one into the barn, with the old self left to the outside in flames. The spirit of Christ dwelling within one keeps the soul out of harms danger in the barn.
We made the base for the grave out the farm,
Where our dad can now rest his head
Forever more, in his favourite spot,
The place of dad’s harmonious bed.
We mixed the buckets of water with concrete,
Then shovelled this to the square,
Levelled flat with rake, trowel and a spade,
We let it harden up in the air.
It’s on top of the hill, with a beautiful view of the farm,
A peaceful spot with the sheep,
A peaceful place where the birds sing all day,
And dad can now peacefully sleep.
We made a base for the grave out the farm,
Using concrete, bricks and stone,
Where dad can rest, forever more,
And we can visit him each day, all alone.
Still Growing
seventy-three and one-half years young
can’t forget the half-don’t want to appear
younger than I actually am
seems like yesterday I was living in
a foster home and working on the farm
and that was fifty-six years ago
my biggest regret was all the
potential friendships I destroyed
because I was an angry person. I
came from a dysfunctional home
where every form of abuse was acceptable
I had PTSD of a sort so the shrink said
which stunted my social skills
my biggest triumph was accepting
Jesus has my savior. I have slowly learned
to forgive others and just as importantly myself
it has been a life long process and my transformation
is not totally finished but I am better than I was.
Now I have very few friends from the past but am
making some new ones while treating people with
respect.
Being content with the way things are is a
wonderful feeling.
Frozen snow thaws
In rush of flow;
Ice turns fluid raw
In melting show.
See what you see
In profound wings;
Tact that must be
Breezy as spring.
Fluid movements grace
The turn of tides;
Spring comes to trace
A brand new stride.
Watch cheer now cite
A thousand things;
Flights in sure rites
Where clusters fling.
Sunny side up
The earth reborn;
A flowing cup
In passage torn.
Sparkle of zest
As wonders wake;
Hurl of new fest
In primal take.
New green shoots sprout
Joy's saplings sing;
Emergent bout
Of life's bold spring.
Winter is gone
As warmth now plays;
Yields of new dawn
In sunshine sway.
Spring delights farm
True outbursts pure;
Seeding fresh sums
In fond allure.
The frozen lake
Thaws mirror bright;
Here boat trips make
Such mellow sights.
Birds on the wing
Glide swift and fast;
Savour sweet spring
In vivid blast.
Here time grooms space
With wit and pun;
Plant seeds that grace
Such lovely runs.
Mimes for our times
To swing with spring;
Style cheery chimes
As love light flings.
Leon Enriquez
13 October 2016
Singapore
written in octaves
Tom gathers broken branches
and stubs his toes on roots.
Tywhoppity’s rich bottom
is tidied up each autumn.
The ache and pain he stanches
to reap September fruits.
Tom gathers broken branches
and stubs his toes on roots.
Re-staking his best grapevines
on the hillside on his knees,
he rakes up leaves and stubble
along with rocks and rubble.
The smell of fragrant pond pines
makes this old farm boy sneeze.
Re-staking his best grapevines
on the hillside on his knees.
His body takes a beating
his mind stays in control.
Each year his land gets littered
but he is not embittered.
It’s nature the man competes
against with heart and soul.
His body takes a beating
his mind stays in control.
Crops gathered without delay
hand-picked by one-man crew.
Bottoms broadcast with clover
provides a winter cover
Keeping Blackford Creek at bay.
This bottom - his world view.
Crops gathered without delay
hand-picked by one-man crew.
June 25, 2019
Brian Strand, YOUR PERSONAL PERFECT POEM PICK contest, 3rd place.
Tywhoppity Bottoms isn't some place you can find on Google Maps or Wikipedia. It is a small area of bottomland that surrounds Blackford Creek, which creates part of the county line that divides Daviess and Hancock counties in western Kentucky. According to legend, Tywhoppity was given its name by Union soldiers during the Civil War, who remarked the sound of the creek against the rocks made a ty-whop-it-ty sound.
When we bought a home on Tye Ave., many times I referred to our area as Tye-whoppity Bottoms especially when our creek (Blackiston Run) rose and got into our neighbor’s house.
Clusters of refugee bubbles
Expelled from the side of my tank
Rise expanding in upward travels
Escaped depths, burst at surface
Forging against their vigour
Persuasive stream broken
by my bulky silver body
Interrupting incoming ongoing
Enthusiastic thousands
Spurts of filter flung hum
Tickle my sheer cycling fins
Tell me to nose dive again
Breaking trails of oxygen globes
Until Billy Bully Salmon slices in
Languid flicks follow frantic fro
Gyrating spotty specimen vie
Lunch pellet plops induce swished thrashing
Tumult on top flung untimed as ocean fury
Gaping lips capable of feeding incidentally
Cylindrical home groans, crowded by peers
Graduates from Tank Eight are due soon
To meet with intention, purpose imposed
Sight of orange net scooping candidates
Occasions mayhem, frenzied to catch bus
I surge with the fastest, fattest prime
For my place in net destiny
Overexposed oxygen exhausts me
Begins cressendo to deliver my bounty
Dry eyed tribute to nurtured practice honed
My splatting undulations
boast industry success
Cod calls me to lemon rained plate haven
Farmed fellows raised by deliberation
Egg nursery, microscopic sluge whirls
Infuse infant entire crew with dedication
To feed, to fulfil, crisp silver skin served
If you think eating me equals ocean depletion
You'll be pleased to imbibe controlled science
Take it from me, fat salmon, Raymond
I am desperate to get in your gut!
My reason for existence is to be ravished
Don't reject majestic fish - re-examine
The pearly peach flesh down throat glide
Indulge charitable fridge wrapped salmon
(Honeybee on apple blossom and honey harvest - praise bee!!!)
Extracting the Essence
When a honeybee makes honey
first she has to extract the nectar
flying about between various flowers
sipping their sweet juices
until her stomach is full.
Then it’s back to the hive
to add her tiny drop to a wax comb cell her sisters have drawn
and then off again, to fill again,
over and over until the cells are full.
And then the bees let it rest
(as they work on tirelessly to make and fill more comb).
And left to just sit, the partially digested nectar
slowly continues to digest, evaporate, concentrate
until now, thick and golden ripe it’s ready to cap.
So it is with spiritual practice
in whatever form
as we gather the nectar of teachings, extracting the essence
to let it rest in the heart of our practice
until, just like with the bees
it turns to honey,
an essence, in such abundance
that all we can do is share.
(10/13/2021, originally published in my 5th book of poems and stories, EXTRACTING THE ESSENCE, 2021)
The way it was
I lived on a farm, and one day I walked
down the lane to get the horse in as it looked like rain
a man in a dark suit walked towards me
I said good evening, but he didn`t see me.
Later that evening an ancient lady who lived at the farm
it was customary for small farmers to take in old people
and get paid by the state, was feeling ill.
A doctor was called for, but we had no phone, so I was
sent to a farm that had one.
By the time the doctor showed up the lady had died.
The farmers put her in a wooden box that was
used to keep the milk urns it had a lid, this to keep
rats away they smell death.
Next day an open-plan car came they had a coffin
put the lady in a plain coffin and off the drove
to town and that was the last I saw of her.
The farmer got another old person to take her room.
wickedness? under the sun
is obvious that one man's meat
is another man's poison
have you been in a gold mine
before
it is a horror what is happening
in a mining field
you could see clearly what
the greed of men could do
is a shame that humans
can turn vampire
for the sake of money
is a big disgrace to see
men women even kids
working so hard
Searching relentlessly
sweating under a hot sun
just to dig a gold out
just for a greedy man
to make a fortune
wickedness? under the sun
have you been to a cocoa? farm
before
i know you will not be blind
to see how hard the people
are suffering just to help
a greedy man rich
is painful when majority
of the victims work so hard
under the hot sun are
young teenage African youth
whose parents are a victim of
poverty under the rules of
African great corrupt leaders
who don't care about the prosperity
of his people
is too ugly down there in this
farm of greedy cocoa export
so when you sit and enjoy
your sweet chocolate and
coffee
remember it was made out
from the grife of another man
Wickedness? under the sun
have you ever visit a diamond mine
i bet you
you will shade tears if you really
got a soul
in this mine you can see clearly
what animals humans can be
in a quest to get wealthy?
in this mine everyday under
the hot sun in Africa
my people are turn to mining slaves
right in their country
they are been enslave
they are been striped naked
they are used just like ordinary
materials
where no pity or mercy
lies not in the eyes of the
cheap minds officials that works
for the western world benefits
to exploit Africa resources
just for money sake
Wickedness? under the sun
have you ever been out there
in the streets of the third world countries
have you noticed how much
this people strive just to live
have you noticed the look
in their faces? don't look
so happy
have you been there in the zone
called ghetto
have you noticed how
this peoples life's are
not important to their leaders
is obvious they are the rejected
stone
despite the factories can't do
with out the Labour of this
poor people
despite under the sun
this people works so hard
just to earn a coin
yet they feeds the greedy mans
needs all the time