Quotes about barnyard, page 2
Frosty Wintry Themes
Another icy day
As winter continues on
A frosty glaze on everything
Creates a wintry song
Sparkling icicles hang delicately
From the barnyard fence
Cattle staring through the freeze
As their breath hangs in suspense
Beautiful ice coated ponds
Create the perfect skating rink
Children bundle up in their warmest
A winter paradise they think
Ah, look at the windmill
It has its own special charm
But with its winter coat of ice
Brings such magic to the farm
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poem by Marilyn Lott
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Horse Buddy
here is something very stately
About the average horse
There is beauty in their structure
And they are very large, of course
Their eyes are warm and soft
They seem to understand
They would purr if they were cats
As I rub them with my hand
They love to nuzzle and touch
You gently with their nose
It’s always very wet
Because they lick it, I suppose
They are people animals for sure
They don’t want to be alone
They need the barnyard close
To their owners ranch-style home
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poem by Marilyn Lott
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Alarm Clocks
When Dawn strides out to wake a dewy farm
Across green fields and yellow hills of hay
The little twittering birds laugh in his way
And poise triumphant on his shining arm.
He bears a sword of flame but not to harm
The wakened life that feels his quickening sway
And barnyard voices shrilling "It is day!"
Take by his grace a new and alien charm.
But in the city, like a wounded thing
That limps to cover from the angry chase,
He steals down streets where sickly arc-lights sing,
And wanly mock his young and shameful face;
And tiny gongs with cruel fervor ring
In many a high and dreary sleeping place.
poem by Joyce Kilmer
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The Modest Jazz-Bird
The Jazz-bird sings a barnyard song—
A cock-a-doodle bray,
A jingle-bells, a boiler works,
A he-man's roundelay.
The eagle said, 'My noisy son,
I send you out to fight!'
So the youngster spread his sunflower wings
And roared with all his might.
His headlight eyes went flashing
From Oregon to Maine;
And the land was dark with airships
In the darting Jazz-bird's train.
Crossing the howling ocean,
His bell-mouth shook the sky;
And the Yankees in the trenches
Gave back the hue and cry.
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poem by Vachel Lindsay
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A Parody on “A Psalm of Life”
Life is real, life is earnest,
And the shell is not its pen –
“Egg thou art, and egg remainest”
Was not spoken of the hen.
Art is long and Time is fleeting,
Be our bills then sharpened well,
And not like muffled drums be beating
On the inside of the shell.
In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the great barnyard of life,
Be not like those lazy cattle!
Be a rooster in the strife!
Lives of roosters all remind us,
We can make our lives sublime,
And when roasted, leave behind us,
Hen tracks on the sands of time.
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poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Chattering
Clucking, clucking goes the hen
Across the barnyard again and again
With worthless chatter, as that hen gets fatter
Clucking about what or even who knows when.
But soon no more clucking will be heard,
As on my dinner plate I will serve that bird.
Gossiping, gossiping goes the wife
Another facet of her busy life
Telling her stories, about men, women, girls and boys
Bullying, infidelity and physical abuse is also rife.
But one day though all of her gossiping will end,
When she loses her husband and she has not a friend.
Squeak, Squeak goes the mouse
As it darts in and out and about the house
Throughout the day, food is its only prey
Ends up frightening myself and the spouse.
But soon enough mousie it will find its bread,
As it will be in the trap and it will be dead.
poem by Randy McClave
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Of Fleeting Memories
Amidst a mist of fleeting memories
I miss the tweeting melodies
Miss greeting the feathered farm orchestras
of happy whistlers in the trees
Little footsteps slide across the kitchen floor
Mom walks in with groceries from the store
Grandpa is driving the tractor in the distance
And Grandma holds open the screen door
Sunny Vision
of a whispy field of wheat
My brother and I are shaded from the heat
playing hide and seek
'Come grab a bite to eat! ' yells grandma
we giggle as we jump out of the tree
and run up in bare feet
It's kinda weird and funny now
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poem by Ray Quesada
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Unusually Uncertain
Things are getting better,
Except of course they’re not.
The bailouts have worked miracles
with business gone to pot.
The Nation should experience
Slow growth or slow decline.
We should know soon, unless we don’t-
I can’t make up my mind.
Over in the Eurozone it’s Deutschland uber alles
If Greeks would work like Germans
I’d be sure this market rallies.
If P.I.G.S. escape the barnyard-
We’ll face ruin in our time.
We should know soon, unless we don’t
I can't make up my mind.
Greenspan always soothed my fears,
inchoate though he was.
Bernanke, on the other hand,
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poem by John F. McCullagh
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A Poem For Myself
I was born in Mississippi;
I walked barefooted thru the mud.
Born black in Mississippi,
Walked barefooted thru the mud.
But, when I reached the age of twelve
I left that place for good.
My daddy chopped cotton
And he drank his liquor straight.
Said my daddy chopped cotton
And he drank his liquor straight.
When I left that Sunday morning
He was leaning on the barnyard gate.
Left my mama standing
With the sun shining in her eyes.
Left her standing in the yard
With the sun shining in her eyes.
And I headed North
As straight as the Wild Goose Flies,
I been to Detroit & Chicago
Been to New York city too.
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poem by Etheridge Knight
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Consistency
Should painter attach to a fair human head
The thick, turgid neck of a stallion,
Or depict a spruce lass with the tail of a bass,
I am sure you would guy the rapscallion.
Believe me, dear Pisos, that just such a freak
Is the crude and preposterous poem
Which merely abounds in a torrent of sounds,
With no depth of reason below 'em.
'T is all very well to give license to art,--
The wisdom of license defend I;
But the line should be drawn at the fripperish spawn
Of a mere _cacoethes scribendi_.
It is too much the fashion to strain at effects,--
Yes, that's what's the matter with Hannah!
Our popular taste, by the tyros debased,
Paints each barnyard a grove of Diana!
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poem by Eugene Field
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