Short Farmhouse Poems
Short Farmhouse Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Farmhouse by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Farmhouse by length and keyword.
The old rocking chair slowly rocks with the breeze on the porch of the empty farmhouse, waiting for new stories to be told.
Heidi Sands
deluge
old man winter pours buckets....
inside farmhouse wet
ingenuity in use
rain water poured in bath tub
Languorous heatwave
Provence blooms in high summer
Wisteria surge
Chorus of sounds surround me
Small lizard climbs farmhouse wall.
Nature's Fine Scenes
grasshoppers jump
broken down fence
little farmhouse
Robert J. Lindley
Than-Bauk
Note :
My first try at using this poetry form.
winding down
distant farmhouse kitchen light
harsh winter night
Published in The Trillium Haiku Group Anthology 2022 "-to hang my hat"
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Posted on June 2, 2021
No building long survives Time’s hurricane,
It scatters shingles, rends each roof
And bares the rafters to the rain,
The skeleton of walls stands proof
That nothing fashioned by mere Man endures aloof.
She crawled to the edge of forever field
hoping to be noticed by any gentleman.
Praying herself away from that soggy farmhouse dream.
but nobody ever came
because even roughhewed rogues
couldn't make it passed those metal legs.
This old farmhouse kitchen
could tell its thrifty tales
of hard times, making do,
making bread from nothing –
snatching life out of air…
Snatching life out of air,
she turns wheat and water
to ferment by the stove,
and molds it with her hands
into tart, golden loaves.
one more day
just one more day
to kill your memory
and wash away the sin
I’ll use a bolt gun and straight
blade for the slaughter
a gambrel hook and clothes
line for the hanging
your pink nose and cow
eyes will crumble in the wind
and I’ll dance on the mustard
ceilings of our farmhouse
Red velvet with gold corded embroidery
Old farmhouse faint smoke frost glittered
Spices wine honey candles milk apples
Orders farm produce meat game and fish
Great fire in kitchen preparing for the evening
Writing poetry ... baby cries for breastfeeding
Singing together begin to dance in fine dress
Young man singing melancholy love-song
In search of long lost orchards
where apple blossoms bloom;
an ole white ashen farmhouse
and corncrib-playhouse rooms.
Searching for the scent of pine
where lingering laughter lies,
for the summer days gone by
and seashells on the tide.
Hungering for spruce gum chaw
we dug from crooks of trees
for the tart and bittersweet
memories of childhood deeds.
In her grandmother's old farmhouse
Amid her poetry ,collections grew
Showcasing imaginatively till
Every room overfilled
Discovered what could remain or to let go
Decisions of compromise ,loss maybe so
Life's lessons she learned,loved and knew
Well nested between white washed walls,
and loving souls taught, lay's an everlasting harvest
Rooted memories hold....
I can see a
pale green
farmhouse
against the
nearly neon
vegetation
of the cornfields.
Soybean sprouts
are shooting
up here and
there.
In this place,
there is no
existentialism
or angst
questing
against our
sanity.
There is no
god or God.
Just the cornstalks,
the soybean sprouts,
and the pale green
farmhouse
in the distance.
day’s light quickly fades
rumbles from mighty jaws near
bitter winds utter their last gasp
my arms are in a flurry
bare branches lash against the farmhouse
struggling to avoid the chimney’s embers
“Snap,” the sound rings out
pain I bear as I split in two
crash-landing on the horse barn
sunrise comes again
displaying carnage below
nearly lifeless, my tears fall like rain
a frosted farmhouse--
smoke blends silently
into the dark clouds
first winter storm--
tire tracks fill quickly
along the old dirt road
snow blows sideways--
north winds
rattle a window
a flashlight glitters--
cattle are herded
into the barn
laden with snow
the trees succumb and bend--
a farmer prays over supper
embers burn low--
the fields have white blankets
for a frigid night
I stepped into a place of magic.
Implements, antique construction,
still used everyday.
Shiny interlopers keep away!
The trusty and pre-fabricated still hold sway.
Products of a bygone era,
polished and honed to precision,
manual labor, the road to perfection.
(Note: on visiting a farmhouse in Finland
where many of the old-fashioned farm
implements are still used to this day.)
I stepped into a place of magic.
Implements, antique construction,
still used everyday.
Shiny interlopers keep away!
The trusty and pre-fabricated still hold sway.
Products of a bygone era,
polished and honed to precision,
manual labour, the road to perfection.
(Note: on visiting a farmhouse in Finland
where many of the old-fashioned farm
implements are still used to this day.)
Sturdy cowboys
evolved as heroes,
Well built, stout featured,
Wooden attire
Arched hats, spiky shoes,
Tough looks as is life !
Farmhouse mornings,
Saddle the stallion,
Solid hoofs sound,
Get into the saddle
For a day's ride,
Horse around or about !
Leading the herd
Get on high horse,
Appear out of woods
Clouds of dust follow,
Awaken devils
Legendary heroes !
Written on 2/5/14
Sponsor- Shadow Hamilton
Contest name- Howdy Pard
snow clouds fill the sky
scattered crows like black comets
silloutted against them
their angry discourse
echoing over the field below
corn husk rustles underfoot
where a forlorn stalk remains
the token of summer glory
a season well spent
naked branches black and brittle
like gnarled fingers
reach up to mark the sky
smoke rises from the chimney
of a weathered farmhouse
windows aglow with lamplight
the place I call home
Whether things will go normal
Or will happen the occult
But always happens universal
Dirt and dust will simply out
After day long wind and rain
From fields and farmhouse hay
Then, the night will fall when
Disappears gloomy, weary day,
Myriads stars are in milky way
Some looking at me will hark
My past, my present, anyway
And thus, I will stand in the dark
Some stars will fall on the ground
And flowers will bloom all around.
we need adult pants
to confront our dreams demise
before time waves bye ~
moving to a sunny state
might turn our sadness around
no more lush yard land
useful outbuildings scattered
old farmhouse we love
maybe sad byes to willows ~
then hi to palms and beaches
we felt this was home
an old house where we belonged
not our shared fate though
so to sun state we will drive ~
with frowns to wear in some months
Holland
In Holland this sweet clog walking land
have too many cows realising methane gas into the air.
There are many gas explosions in Holland
no one has yet to connect the gas with the cattle.
But it is difficult for them the have fewer cows.
Once I met Prince Hans of Netherlands, I drove his stuff up
to his farmhouse and he never paid me, and that is way
they are successful living in the middle of Europe and
somehow voiding paying tax.
Candles on my bathtub, soothe my
Bubbles. Pop, pop! Candles on my
Desk soothe into my poetry rhyme.
Candle on a dining table. Romantic
Dinners, silver forks, fine china.
Sunsets look like candles bright.
O'er mountain, take in the sight.
Candles lit the farmhouse homes.
Torches light, when there's none.
Candles, candles, burning bright.
Light my day, and calm my nights.
Greens, reds, pinks, many whites.
I have them all - Burning brighter.
Freddy Farkle, fumbling forecaster for Forestville,
friggin' fudged Friday forecast....fair?!
first florid felicitous, falling flurries followed,
froze flowers, foiled!
faraway farmhouse, furrowing farmland,
frigid fanny, furious, frustrated,
frumpy, frazzled!
furry forest friends furnished flannel frock,
finding Freddy's fails funny, frivolity,
fortunately frequent fallible forecasts
found Freddy flying faraway,
fallaciously forecasting for fermented folks!
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
Tried to follow Frost’s journey as far as I could.
Nah, f*** this, walking is terrible.
I stray off the paths
searching for something,
a little more bearable
I find a farmhouse and an old pesticide plane
At this point the road not taken by has gone down the drain
Steal the plane and now we fly
Through pink clouds and regretless skies
I jerk wide awake.. from my dreams,
And my pillows soften
my grounded screams.