Long Farmyard Poems

Long Farmyard Poems. Below are the most popular long Farmyard by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Farmyard poems by poem length and keyword.


My Chandelier

I have a funky chandelier;
It has a country theme.
From next to farmyard animals,
The light’s supposed to beam.

Four candelabra bulbs it has,
Each 40 watts, but though
The cow’s and sheep’s and pig’s all work,
The horse’s bulb won’t glow.

For more than 30 years it’s hung
Above the same old table,
But some connection’s broken and
To fix it I’m not able.

Some handymen have tried and failed -
No one with intuition 
Or knowledge that will do the trick -
I need an electrician.

They don’t make house calls and since I
Can’t take it down, I guess 
I’ll have to just get used to
Having light, but somewhat less.
Form: Rhyme


Chicken Licken

Poor old Chicken Licken's not the brightest little bird
Keeps coming up with theories that are clearly quite absurd
He got hit by an acorn, and to laugh would be a sin
But our little feathered friend believes, the sky is falling in
He’s running round the farmyard telling everyone his tale
“We must inform the government and do it without fail”
Rounding up some other birds to join him on his quest
Picking just the fittest, disregarding all the rest
The Goose and Turkey Lurkey led this brave deluded ring
As they marched into the night so they could go and tell the King 
Poor old Chicken Lickens brain has really flown the coop
The way he carries on he’s going to end up in the soup
© John Fenn  Create an image from this poem.

The Tempest

Do you feel the great turning, the maelstrom coming around, spitting sparks of searing birds that circle each other screaming in a language like pain? Blisters burning feathers, beaks and eyes till they ignite like flares spiralling in the tempest of this world. High performance vehicles lose their wings in ever-turning pressure, four by fours and pickups, thousand cc superbikes all spinning round and round. Their windows, bumpers, lights and panels flail off into airy channels, ricochet off stop lights scutter down the highway till they form an evil spout. Sucking up the houses, gardens, fences, trees and chickens, dogs and cats and mice and rats and farmyard animals. Spinning them so hard they break up turning and exploding like cartons spraying all across the town. Gaining pace the maelstrom grows, widens, sucks up earth and loess, strips the soil and grinds it up and spits it out. Spreads over the terrain, living feeding off the pain, sucking the last seeds from the fields. Finds the streams and all the rivers, cuts them out like veal and liver, eats them up like a cannibal. The sound is like a roar of terror, amalgam of all vicious weather, battering, beating, bruising every soul. And yet we won’t stop the oil fields, pipelines, stripping whole horizons just for dirty shale.

First Flight

First Flight

Cedarwood frame and canvas kite,
Made at home with purpose flight.
Blustery day on pastured ground,
Early reluctance now skyward bound.

The tug is strong and pulling hand,
Resilient aircraft takes command.
My feet have risen from their base,
Clasping tight, wind in my face.

Physics dictate this cannot be,
Two metres off the ground maybe three.
Release the strings ‘fore it’s too late,
Holding on might seal my fate.

I should have bailed at first chance,
Rising 100 feet in an ariel dance.
Drop into the reservoir down below,
But cannot swim so that’s a no.

Southwest zephyr increasing pace,
Could I disappear to outer space.
Green fields and river fleeting by,
Farmyard cattle greeting hi.

Sailing onwards summer breeze,
Over houses and oakwood trees.
Relaxed and tranquil is my mind,
Meandering lanes of privet lined.

Outcry voices “come down you fool”
Hullabaloo aside St Joseph school.
No strategy placed how I might land,
Safety first I hadn’t planned.

Crashed near summit Pendle Hill,
Slightly bruised but breathing still.
Box kite broken beyond repair,
Its final flight ends in despair.

On reflection perhaps a dream
A cry for help or inward scream
A lot depends how you perceive.
Personally, this experience I believe.
© Kevin Shaw  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Thanksgiving Party

THANKSGIVING PARTY 

     Turkey in the farm loitering proud with firm steps
     Sometimes tip toe raising arrogant head high,
     sometimes running aimless looking on
     growing pumpkins in the field.
             
     Carefree frolic bird sometimes flapping wings to soar
     a little and settles safe shortly on farmyard
    to descry array of yellow mellow pumpkins
    as if its fellow mates.
    Farmer sells baskets of pumpkins and the turkey.
   Turkey observes Halloween celebration carving designing pumpkins.
     
     Feeling jealous watching honor of pumpkins,
    Tempted to sit on the table beside pumpkins to taste sumptuous food.
    Within one month its wish was fulfilled to reach the table
    on Thanks -Giving Party.
    Not to eat but as an item being roasted. 
                  
      11/04/19
Form: Narrative


Premium Member Little Timmys Supper

Ma was in the pantry with no food to make a snack
‘Pa,’ she said, ‘go get your coat and leave this foodless shack,
You’d better take your bang bang and don’t think of coming back
Unless you’ve got a cluck cluck or a nice plump quack quack quack.’

Well Timmy’s in the corner playing with his farmyard toys
He liked to think meows we’re girls and woof woofs were all boys
And moo moos worked in factories to make us milk and cheese
While baa baas strived to make the food that grunt grunts did with ease

Pa said, ‘Ma, he’s old enough, he needs to learn the truth,
How we get to eat under this God forsaken roof.
We really need to tell him, I’m sure he won’t make a fuss
After all, the squeak squeaks eat a lot better than us.’

Well Pa went out, his bang bang was slung over his left shoulder
Timmy knew the growl growls were becoming slightly bolder
He hoped that Pa would bring a quack quack so that they could eat 
He was sure he would unless a howl howl he should meet

Well, time went by and Pa returned and Timmy felt like clapping
Pa had caught a quack quack but the quack quack was still flapping
Pa said that he bang banged twice and then his trigger stuck
And Tim said, ‘Can I wring it’s neck and kill that f*****g duck!’
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Alphabet On Display

Abominable Aborigine
Boycotted Baltimore’s Bakery
Canady Canola’s Cannery
Decoded deceitful debauchery

Endless energetic energy
Forwarded farmyard frolicking for a fee
Geographically greeting in Germany
Hardcopy happiness hee hee hee

Ignoring ignorance illegally
Juicy juggling juggernauts
Kettledrums, Kenya and Kentucky
Livening up our literacy
Maniac madness in a manatee

Nightingale nips so nervously
October’s ocelot obviously….
Paralyzes Petunia Parkway’s parenthesis
Quaking quail quickly qualifies me

Relaying relative radioactivity
Scapegoats and scarecrows so scantily
Treat Tajikistan twice tactfully
Undermining Ukraine’s utter ukulele

Vaporizing various vanities
Wicked Washington warrants wisely
X-rays xylophones ‘xtra-instantly
Yellow jackets yield young yearly
Zippy Zeus’s zesty zoology zings with zeal between you and me.

Premium Member Wolf Pacts

How will it be to have freed the weak
to stand as their sword, to carry their shield
how will it be to see their tremble revealed. 
Imperialist power court with cheek
the downtrodden fools whose wealth they all seek.
America, Russia, China concealed
that their help came with poisoned wells and fields 
that the air can burn, the fish die in creeks
ask 'Nam how freedom was bought and brought.
Go to Tibet, feel the Communist zeal 
the temples they have felled make farmyard walls.
Have the strong helped the weak, power's begot
pain, let the weak grow strong, let them not kneel,
if you ask for help, the wolf hears your calls.
Form: Sonnet

Bunnny Buns

The bees swarmed to dripping honey,
   and love's illusion is not so funny
when the rabbit in the hutch
   backs away from your very touch.
Today he is afraid
   that you chose him for your maid
and the reproductive status hump
   is lost in desperations malice lumps.
With no offspring to take his place
  the embarrassment is on your face
and the honey bunny you had chased
  became hassenfeffer sent to inner space.
Impatient Awaiting his return, the doe
  displayed herself to all the farmyard beaus
and the buck was found out of luck
  when all the kits were downy ducks.

Come out of there, you silly rabbit!


BUNNY JUMP  and Caren Krutsinger  12/19/18
© DM Babbit  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

All Hail the Republic

The concept of a royal family
Is such a ludicrous thing,  
Products of privileged inbreeding  
Worshipped as Queen  or king.
So, when the current one dies
And, I stress, and only then
He should be replaced by
A broody, fat farmyard  hen.

Clucketty MacCluck theyll call her:
She’ll be so much cheaper to pay
With less embarrassing behaviour
And unlikely to stray or play away.
She’ll be properly fed on
Only the finest of fine corn
And she can cluck for the public
Every other Tuesday morn.

As for the current royal family
I’m not quite sure what to do.
It’s such a revolutionary scheme
I’ve not yet fully thought it through.
Logic suggests they must be
Of  some as yet undiscovered use
Maybe caretake ex palaces to
Keep them tidy, neat and spruce.,

I suppose really if, and only if,
My scheme comes to pass
They could with quiet dignity
Just be put out to grass.
Oh the concept is astounding
The implications even more
I’m more than amazed that
Nobody’s thought of it before.

Once that archaic system 
Is become a part of our past
Perhaps we can move towards
A  just and equal society at last.
But, then again, a warning thought,
Our politicos are such a corrupt lot
Perhaps  we'll be much better off
Keeping the system that we've got
Form: Rhyme

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