Short Plow Poems

Short Plow Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Plow by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Plow by length and keyword.


Yet To Plow

Don’t wait for that perfect poem 
  to appear

It lives in the seeds of your
  imperfection

Waiting for new furrows of wonder
  and strife
  
To flower in soil you have yet
  to plow

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)


Yet To Plow

Don’t wait for that perfect poem 
  to appear

It lives in the seeds of your
  imperfection

Waiting for new furrows of wonder
  and strife
  
To flower in soil you have yet
  to plow

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member SNOW DAYS

Winter sun is yellow gold
Making mud run of melting snow
And Carolina clay is frozen hill
Where kids sled and play at will

Frosted sky with cotton cloud
In the eye of guy driving snow plow
He’s hard at work while we all play
All school kids search for snowy days
Form: Rhyme

Plow a New Field For Yourself

Plow a new field for yourself
                                Then plant your best seeds of righteousness
                                 In harvest season thou shall harvest riches
                           Let the blessing from heaven fall like the rain of God
                                       All for the good farmer of righteousness
Form: Imagism

Amish Snow Plow

Snow 
Cold and white 
Like clouds in a sky 
Lots of it on the ground
Surrounding me 
As I go 
For my morning walk 

I see an Amish man go by 
On his snow plow 
Pulled by horses
With a dog following 
On the ground

And soon a path 
Is being made 
So that people 
Can get to and from town 
In the Amish community 

 
Emily Krauss


Premium Member Pulling a Plow Through Life

I have managed to muddle through life somehow. It seems I have constantly pulled a plow. Tilling the soil to plant some seed, I have had many an obligation and need. I share the same burdens with my neighbor. What happened to the fruits of my labor? They were all harvested, consumed, and spent. Sometimes I wonder where it all went
.
Form: Rhyme

Push the Plow But Let It Grow

Push your mind, within or
Push the plow, but let it grow
It shall take you to the stars
Give a piece to everyone
Give it wings and let it fly
Plant your thoughts in solid ground
Build this bridge, without a sound
Fill your mind with positivity
Do not feed it with mediocrity
Be curious and be bold
Grab this bull, by the horns and
Stretch your inner soul

Premium Member Snow plow man

Driving along steel on the road
look in the mirror 
salt falls from my load

Moving just as swift as I can
Look at me
I'm the snow plow man

Snow piles high as it moves off my plow
push back corners 
the kids scream WOW

working  round the clock all through the night
Clearing the roads
With determination an might

Road to road as fast as I can
Look at me  
I'm the snow plow man
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member To Dig, Fertilize, Plow and Water

     And so it goes down through the ages
        The bigger and taller devour the littler and smaller

    Monkeys, bears, fish, tigers, turtles, ants
       All species find their food at hand
    Only man has to dig, fertilize, plow and water the land

    Why, for Heaven’s sake? Well, that’s just it
       Heaven is interested in man’s entreaties
          He wants man to grow closer and closer to Him
             ~ as well as eat His Wheaties
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Farmer's Plow

The roadside implement left without attendant, 
an objective lesson of technology progression. 

Long lacking use, should be rot and rust. 
Yet is anything but, even years without digging rut. 

A hand once guided, a horse once dragged. 
Hung up like the harness, and the feed bag.

So roadside it sits, repainted and new. 
A plow, a tool of a past we honor, that men would use.

Historic and remembered, now a monument, 
to the hard working farmer and time that he spent.
Form: Verse

Premium Member To Plow and Seed

A well-water pump cranks out its iron-water
    crooked wire remains -- once, sturdy chicken coops
  The brackish, muddy area over there, the cowshed
    some withered trees dot the hills, bereft now of their fruit

  A few young lads herd goats, or perhaps they are living skeletons?
    cows with ribs exposed, horses with manes as limp as rags ...
  Some day they'll come again, the strong, determined youth
    to bale the hay, to turn the rocks over, to plow and seed relentlessly ...

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