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Let the scoundrels return
Like a lightning bolt
coming out of a blue sky
there are bombs falling
in a field where maze
stand green and ripe in neat rows
and craters are left and the field is on fire.
A few more bombs fall exploding
between cattle grazing in the field
and some are blasted to pieces
and the cows in terror forget about their milk.
The farmer is woken from his afternoon nap
and grabs his hunting rifle.
“We hit the wrong target”
the flight leader confirms
and the farmer waits with a gun in hand
on the planes to return and says:
“let the scoundress return.”
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Taxes On The Farmer Feeds Us All
(traditional, adapted by ry cooder)
(d) - (a) - (e)
(a) we worked through spring and winter, through (d) summer and through (a) fall
But the mortgage worked the hardest and the (e) steadiest of us all
It (a) worked on nights and sundays, it (d) worked each holiday
(e) settled down among us and it never went (a) away
The farmer comes to town with his wagon broken down
The farmer is the man who feeds us all
If you only look and see I know you will agree
That the farmer is the man who feeds us all
(a) the farmer is the man, the farmer is the man
He buys on his credit until (e) fall
Then they (a) take him by the hand
And they (d) lead him from his land
And the (e) merchant is the man who gets it (a) all
The farmer is the man, the farmer is the man
He lives on his credit until fall
With the interest rates so high
Its a wonder he dont die
But the taxes on the farmer feeds us all
Well, the banker says hes broke and the merchant stops and smoke
But they forget that its the farmer that feeds them all
It would put them to the test if the farmer took a rest
And theyd know that its the farmer that feeds them all
The farmer is the man, the farmer is the man
Lives on his credit until fall
Well, his pants are wearing thin
His condition, its a sin
cause the taxes on the farmer feeds us all
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Farmer's Bride (Cavatina Sequence) (In Answer To Charlotte Mew)
There was a farmer's wife, who was afraid
every day,
was driven wild with unmentioned fear;
always away
she was hidden beyond some lock and key,
never was gay
but doves gathered at her window sill,
many birds fluttered near at her will.
Without much love she was driven to work,
once she did flee
with the farmer and his labourers searching;
she was happy
while she was hiding in the large cornfield,
was from fear free,
later sneaked into the nearest church,
while drunk from the bar her husband did lurch.
Like a small animal she was hiding,
the minister
prayed for her but then took her back home,
quite sinister
acted the farmer as he whipped her,
did register
her into a lunatic asylum
and of his actions that was the sum.
The magpie's feathers did lie in her room
and she was gone
as if she had suddenly taken flight,
had moved on,
one day to a much better loving world,
but all alone
until his sudden death the farmer was,
they found him deep in a field of green grass.
[Reference: 'The Farmer's Bride' by Charlotte Mew.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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The farmer and the lover
A farmer toils his field and sows seeds
To reap manifolds of his deeds.
A lover digs love-mine and lifts dirt
Of million loads to trace some gold.
A lover is happier than a farmer
Regardless of being a net earner.
25.07.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Under A Merciless Sun
Under a sun that burns merciless hot,
the wild wind and unrestrained weather
the farmer kneels humble before God
ploughs his fields, takes seed in both his hands
see the twirling wind from a distance,
then prays again sincerely to the Lord,
before he plants the seeds, ask for blessings
when his tractor pulls red dust from the field.
Big drops pour down for days without an end,
time and again the farmer thanks his God,
with a fresh smell coming from the wet earth
overnight all of the wild grass is green,
it’s dripping wet as far as he can see;
the farmer lives connected to God.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Farmer's Daughter
I do come from miles away,
Ain't got no place to stay.
Glad to help you plow your fields,
Farmer's daughter.
Might be just a couple of days,
Clean up, rest, and be on my way.
Thank you, madam, much obliged,
Farmer's daughter.
So long, got to leave your land.
Many thanks, it was might grand.
I do hope to see you again,
Farmer's Daughter.
Farmer's Daughter.
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There is no better manure than the farmer's foot.
Beauty....... of what?
The earth wait's the sky drizzles
Seasons come and seasons go
With the smell of weather
The farmer chooses to decorate his farm
A farmer believes every leaf
Of the plant as its own
At every point protects and nurtures
The plants every leaf
The farmer that stood by
That plants every need and move
The plants have no respect for him
The farmer doesn't even find out
Who caste the evil eye
But all that's left is his ruined farm of hope
What was ones a living green
Is now nothing but flying sand?
What did I plant and what did I get?
What did I plant and what did it become?
Wonders the helpless farmer
Even when crying on the inside
Smiles just for its plants
A farmer believes every leaf
Of the plant as its own
At every point protects the plants every leaf
What did I want and what did I get?
Is all the farmer could think
poem by Kiara Davar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lovely To His Eyes (Hybridanelle)
A farmer walks up to his horse and it is spring again
in the distance there’s ploughing red Massy Ferguson tractor
and he bridles the horse and there is pain
His son is out there tracking the field
seems young, vital and strong
and it’s as if he has now got to yield
and the earth is soft underfoot after the rain.
and he’s still the administrator.
A farmer walks up to his horse and it is spring again
and he still has some power to wield
and his eyes measure the ploughed field, the smell of fresh earth,
seems young, vital and strong
and he wonders how many years still remain
but the ache reminds him of the words of the doctor
and he bridles the horse and there is pain
that surrounds him, almost like a token of new birth
and the ardent Arabic horse knows its master well
and his eyes measure the ploughed field, the smell of fresh earth
and stretched out lies the farm that he has to maintain
and on the house’s thatched roof gleams the lightening conductor.
A farmer walks up to his horse and it is spring again
and he horse acts with love, as if under his spell
and life is really great under the sun, wind and sky
and the ardent Arabic horse knows its master well
and from riding horses he have got to abstain,
but he keeps his face pleasant like that of an actor
and he bridles the horse and there is pain
everything is familiar like any other day, where he is saddled high
and he feels full of spirit
and life is really great under the sun, wind and sky
the farm stretches out lovely to his eyes without a stain
and he rides to the chicken coop and the incubator.
A farmer walks up to his horse and it is spring again
and he bridles the horse and there is pain
and probably soon his only child will inherit.
His son is out there tracking the field
and he feels full of spirit
and it’s as if he has now got to yield.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Me & The Farmer
Me and the farmer get on fine
Through stormy weather and bottles of wine
If I pull my weight hell treat me well
But if Im late hell give me hell
And thought its all hard work no play
Farmer is a happy crook
Jesus hates him everyday
cause jesus gave and farmer took
{wont he let you go? } probably no
{wont he let you go? } probably no
{why does he treat you so? } I just dont know
{why does he treat you so? } I just dont know
Me and the farmer like brother, like sister
Getting on like hand and blister
Me and the farmer
Hes chpped down shppe, planted trees
And helped the countryside to breathe
Ripped up fields, bullied flocks
And workded his workers right around the clock
It may seem strange but hed admit
Intentions arent exactlly true
And through God loves his wife a bit
He hates the farmer through and through
{wont he let you go? } probably no
{wont he let you go? } probably no
{why does he treat you so? } I just dont know
{why does he treat you so? } I just dont know
Me and the farmer like brother, like sister
Getting on like hand and blister
Me and the farmer
All things bright and beautiful
All creatures gr3eat and small
All weve got is london zoo
cause farmer owns them all
song performed by by Housemartins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Telling The Truth
Telling of Truths
A brown horse galloped across a snowy field at the end
of the pasture a fence, it jumped over and continued its
crazy gallop into the woods only came to a shuddering
halt when it saw a moose. Steaming nostrils, the moose
charged, horse fled deeper into the woods. Where it met
a forest troll who took it into his cave and gave the horse
a bucket of hot chocolate to drink. Since the snow deep
and tiring to sink into when walking, the troll also fitted
the horse with snow shoes; also, the troll had no need of
a horse led it back to its field. When the farmer came to
fetch his horse and saw the snowshoes, he had a nervous
breakdown and sent away to an asylum, where doctors
tried to convince him it was all in his mind. But the farmer
would have none of it. So he is still there and they will not
release him until he agrees with them that a horse wears
iron shoes and not snowshoes.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Straw Foot
I guess you didnt hear me
When I told you for the first time
Well dont you worry
It wont be the last
All I need a floorboard
An a wooden shoe
Step aside an let my lady through
Hey foot, straw foot
Low we lay em down
Hey foot, straw foot
Up an back around
See the high priest
He took my place
When the judge looks to me
He saw his sons face
Not gonna join you in
Your tower of babble, boy
Tired o that talkin
Im sick o that noise
Hey foot, straw foot
Low we lay em down
Hey foot, straw foot
Coverin ground
Im not alone
An looks can be deceivin
When we get down to it
Youre talkin when you
Should be leavin
Ive been to nebraska
It reminded me of spain
All the questions loaded
All my answers same
Hey foot, straw foot
Low we lay em down
Hay foot, straw foot
Coverin ground
Let us not mince our words
Lets say it true this time
I need your forgiveness
Just like you need mine
Tell me how it is that
You dont want what hes given
It aint no sin son
To be forgiven
Hey foot, straw foot
Low we lay em down
Hey foot, straw foot
All over town
song performed by by 16 Horsepower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The field should be poorer than the farmer. [It is useless for a man to attempt farming without capital.]
A man too busy to take care of his health is like a farmer too lazy to plant his field.
Sonnet: The Farmer
The farmer gazes at the sky for signs,
If rain could come within the next few days!
The summer sun continuously still strains;
‘To sow the seed, the rain must come, ’ he prays.
His field is ploughed and ready for sowing;
The seed was sowed and seedlings too are born;
The rain must come in time for their growing;
The cloudless sky fills up his heart with scorn.
But suddenly, from sky the lightning strikes!
And thunder comes followed by heavy rain;
The farmer shouts with joy like o’er a mike;
Aft’r all, God saved his crops this year again.
Let Heaven tell us when to do some things;
Let joy profound, then reign ’midst all earthlings!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Field
You lie so unfolded
In a love field
With your contempt for any modesty
In a love field
In a love field
In a love field
You yield with your lips still sealed
In a love field
Lost in a sea of imaginary women
Everything youd want
From the dawn to the dimming
Breath comes sharp and heart beats faster
In a love field
Cold ground for a pillow
Under a blanket of stars
In a love field
In a love field
In a love field
Headlights that startled
This embrace of hours
In a love field
In a crooked house
Where things can be arranged
You think youre different from the rest
But you dont see how youve changed
Under an archway
On a road of white linen
In a love field
Feel the anxious rhythm of a functional stranger
In a love field
In a love field
In a love field
Shes so tense but its never mentioned
In a love field
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Little Tree
A very faithful farmer,
Planted a small seed,
Where in a distant field,
It grew into a tree.
This tree had leaves of laughter,
As it rustled in the wind,
Its sound of many whispers,
Were voices of many friends.
Its branches were far reaching,
Its limbs, like little hands,
That touched the lives of many,
As it grew upon the land.
Its flowers bloomed in sunshine,
-They were countless little smiles,
That offered joy to others,
If but only for a while.
For the Farmer who was helping,
His little tree grow tall,
Knew of a better orchard,
The best one of them all.
Se he placed His hands around the tree,
And lifted it with care,
He took it to an orchard,
Where He himself was near.
The tree had all the sunshine,
Its leaves were there to stay,
Its flowers bloomed in happiness,
Every single day.
The Farmer loved the little tree,
Far more than people knew,
Now it lives forever,
In our hearts and Heaven too.
-In loving memory of Charles McMichael
poem by Jean Penner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Working And Committed (Response)
it is not the plow,
but the farmer's back,
and the farmer's legs.
it is not the hoe,
but the farmer's hands,
and the farmer's heart,
working and committed!
it is not the political system,
but the moral fiber beneath.
not the moral fiber of judgement,
but that guided by human compassion.
for the back and the legs,
and the hands and the heart,
are the working cogs of freedom.
anything done without love will fail!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Outcast 2
Outcast
Man with the cloven foot walks through the night, harsh and frustrated,
he was the result when a farmhand had intercourse with a cow... and
when cow a cold February day gave birth on a snowy field, people fled in
distress; the devil has been reborn they screamed and ran away.
The father of this obscenity hung from the rafter in the barn and bitterly
thought it had all come to this because his wife slept with bloomers on.
The child licked by warm cow tongues survived behind a hollow of a stone
and farmers wondered why his cattle gave so little milk.
Cloven foot, how could he hide from peoples fear and utter disgust other
than being evil and cursing mankind, he who had done nothing but being
a victim of a farmer hands unbecoming lust. Priests gave him the name
Satan, although he was never been baptized.
He survived wears a built up shoe to hide his defect, works in finance,
spreads mayhem and poverty. “Love me he says, and I will bring peace
but you must become vegetarians because i will not allow you to turn
my flesh and blood into hamburgers or Sunday roast.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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