Feed them silage for good milk yield.
Better than grazing in the field.
Inside they come and silage eat
and they delight in tasty treat.
Dry and warm in the shed they stay
munching silage throughout the day.
With alcohol at three percent,
a happy meal from grass-ferment.
They are content and keeping dry
and slowly getting somewhat high.
But some unsteady on their feet
as far too much silage they eat.
Feed them silage for good milk yield.
Better than grazing in the field.
Categories:
silage, addiction, animal, food,
Form: Rhyme
It was a crisp fall November weekend,
We had gotten up early that morning
A frantic rush, buzzing to go camping.
We'd packed the night before, tired by the end.
My parents briskly loaded the luggage
In the station wagon, then we'd piled in.
Tickled, Ember our lab would lick my chin.
She was very playful, but average.
Tents were set up and a campfire blazing
Overlooking the clear lake and mountain.
We would hike nature trails we were certain
Were safe and waded in the lake fishing.
Our campfire shed a yielding glowing light
That filled the night air with the scent of smoke
And lingering forest pine and silage oak.
Sky a stage of dancing stars through the night.
I think back to all the favorite times
While young, not knowing how the lord lead my
Sight, to see His love in nature, and sky
With family in the fall leisure pastimes.
1/11/2021
The Good Old Days Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
Categories:
silage, dog, family, fish,
Form: Enclosed Rhyme
the
meadows
harbour
wild flowers
and
sweet clover
bows
before the
scythe
© Harry J Horsman 2019
Categories:
silage, environment,
Form: Senryu
Outside the balmy gust of wind tussle
the prairie grasses and whips the horse's
mane. They journeyed, horse and rider, muscle
pulling like ships sailing on their courses.
Through the sea of golden statuesque wheat,
a fresh, clean, sunny smell, silage or new
dried fodder stored for the livestock to eat.
Pleased to remember the touch of dawns dew.
Remembering days, jingling spur tensions,
same tilled field that his great-grandfather strived.
Came time, consider greater intentions
to building a future and they survived.
Wealth dreams of sunshine, welcome is the rain
upon an endless sea of amber grain.
3/7/2018
Categories:
silage, horse, imagery,
Form: Sonnet
the headiness of now
swirl of keystroke and ideal
new pages
new thoughts
flying on ether
buoyed by excited neutrons
flared by the plasma
of a thousand faceless pens
type it
spill it
splash it on out with a careless eye
falling slow on burning diodes
bundled up
like a mind's autumn harvest
fed to a soul's hearth
dripping with embers
spilt out sooted and crisp
acrid, yet sweetly
an incensical fog
ladled out
from that conjuring elsewhere
sharp as raw silage
sweet as the dew
gathered
gather it
grasp it and renew
bottled summer still shining
uncorked and flown true
so shed the word wonder
baring all the mind's eye
as rapt galleries wait breathless
for every poet's emotional try
rhyme it
(or not)
choose time honored formats
(or not)
but truth be it told
rhyme scheme and meter
can be both lover and shackle
but in matters of the prose
dip your heart
deep into that rarefied font
and evaporate
into
honeyed fog banks
of verse...
Categories:
silage, inspiration,
Form: Free verse