There's no use in closing the barn door after the horse is stolen.
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Don't shut the barn door after the horse is stolen.
What Is A Barn?
A barn is many things-
A barn is a fun place
To run, romp, and play.
It is also a place of refuge,
On hot or stormy days.
A barn is a storage place
For all your tools, grain, and hay.
It is also a place to unwind,
When you have had a tough day.
A barn becomes God's sanctuary,
When you begin to pray
It is also a place of work,
When work is needing done.
A barn is a place
Where freindships can be made
It is also a place
Where new life is born.
A barn is a place
To try with all your might
And finally when its doors are closed,
'Tis safety from the night.
A barn is a place for horses,
And it is a place for cows
A barn is also a hayloft,
Full of little meows
A barn is the Inn
Where our Savior was born
God, our Savior,
Christ, our Lord.
A barn is a work place,
A barn is a play place
A barn is a great place
A barn is a training ring...
A barn is..
Well, when it comes right
Down to it,
A barn is everything!
poem by Macy Dvirnak
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don't close the barn door after the horse runs away.
Don't lock the stable door after the horse is stolen.
A Horse Life
In a horse life.We can play with a burlap feed
bag, an empty milk jug, or chew on the barn stall
door.Just to kill some time, or to kill some every
day bordom.In a horse life.We get names like
Black Beauty, Flicka, Seabiscuit, or Secretariat.
In a horse life.We do tricks like bowing our heads
down, or placing our shoe upon a pedastool.Picking
up the cowboy hat.While tapping our feet rata-tat-tat.
In a horse life.We like a good block of salt.With lots
of minerals, to lick upon.A wholesome bale of hay.To
start off a brand new day.Or a bucket of grain.To keep
us all healthy, fat, and sane.And a fresh bucket of water,
to wash it all down.In a horse life.I could be losing a
horseshoe.While the rider is losing his mind.In a horse
life.We can be a workhorse, a race horse, or a trick pony.
Or maybe a showhorse, or possibly a circus horse.With
out all the phoney baloney.In a horse life.We can run all
day in the open sun, or run the race trak.While the betters
place their wagers.Of course, at the horse racing track
betters window.In a horse life..
A Horse Life Poem by Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2011.All rights reserved.
poem by Kim Robin Edwards
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The Barn and the Down
t stood in the sunset sky
Like the straight-backed down,
Many a time - the barn
At the edge of town,
So huge and dark that it seemed
It was the hill
Till the gable's precipice proved
It impossible.
Then the great down in the west
Grew into sight,
A barn stored full to the ridge
With black of night;
And the barn fell to a barn
Or even less
Before critical eyes and its own
Late mightiness.
But far down and near barn and I
Since then have smiled,
Having seen my new cautiousness
By itself beguiled
To disdain what seemed the barn
Till a few steps changed
It past all doubt to the down;
So the barn was avenged.
poem by Edward Thomas
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Kentucky Derby
(for Smarty Jones)
horse-naked
a barn sleeper
he can swim in the sun, in a barn
he loafs in an apple yard,
snapping the pea grass
as blossoms inhale and exhale kentucky spring
his friend the goat is
patiently
trimming the grass beneath
today is saturday
steel strips are winged to his toes
tiny shields
he can carry a man running
his tail is a whisper trail
in sharp silk clothing
a fearless man holds on
still cropping the slender useless whip
a man and a race-horse in a jagged steady burst
pushing through the vortex
is this the vortex of horse speed?
a horse in a puff
in a dreamscape a puff
can he see the dawn coming?
he's fast!
on his toes and
he's passed us!
poem by Jimi Doyle
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The Red Barn
There was once...
a red barn..
And there
was nothing in
it.
All there was
in the red
barn was just
hay.
And that was all
there was in
there.
The poor red barn
was on its own.
Nobody owns it.
So the red barn
is by itself.
poem by Lisa Parks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The closing of a door can bring blessed privacy and comfort - the opening, terror. Conversely, the closing of a door can be a sad and final thing - the opening a wonderfully joyous moment.
quote by Andy Rooney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Horse And Me
I LOVE MY HORSE AND I'LL TELL YOU WHY
HE'S THE BEST HORSE AROUND AND THAT IS NO LIE
HE'S TOUGH AND SMART AND ALWAYS DOES THE RIGHT THING
WHATEVER I ASK AND RIDES LIKE A DREAM
HE'S NOT THE BIGGEST HORSE IN THE BARN
HE'S KIND OF LAID BACK, LIKE HE DOESN'T GIVE A DARN
HE'S PRETTY, NO DOUBT, BUT THAT ISN'T WHAT SHOWS
IT'S HIS HEART THAT'S SO BIG, THAT IT OVERFLOWS
I KNOW WHAT HE'S THINKING THOUGH HE CAN'T SAY THE WORDS
HE'S LISTENED TO ME WHEN I NEEDED TO BE HEARD
HE'S AS LOYAL A FRIEND AS I'VE EVER HAD
ALWAYS HAPPY TO SEE ME AND NEVER MAKES ME FEEL BAD
HE TRUSTS ME WITH HIS LIFE, AND I TRUST HIM WITH MINE
IT'S A BOND THAT'S NEVER BROKEN, AND GET'S STRONGER WITH TIME
WHEN WE'RE ON THE TRAIL, THERE'S NO BETTER PLACE TO BE
THAN ENJOYING THE WOODS, JUST MY HORSE AND ME
poem by Kathleen West
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American Wild West: Horse Thieves
there was a time
in American history
when horse thieves
were shot or hung
robber man who stole
your horse had stolen
your life your livelihood
your means of travel
survival you were left
as good as dead without
your horse in country
where horseback was life
poem by Terence George Craddock
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What is a Horse?
What is a horse?
A horse has eyes as dainty as a mink.
The grace is interrupted merely by a blink.
A horse is beauty.
What is a horse?
A horse is a tree in a storm that never goes down.
A horse is a weathered rock that stays around.
A horse is ancient.
What is a horse?
A horse waltzes like breeze over rivers.
She curvets and leaps like rain shivers.
A horse is a marionette.
What is a horse?
A horse is determination, that never stops flowing.
A horse is fondness, that never stops growing.
A horse is poetic power.
poem by Lily Whittaker
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Cats In The Well
The cats in the well, the wolf is looking down.
The cats in the well, the wolf is looking down.
He got his big bushy tail dragging all over the ground.
The cats in the well, the gentle lady is asleep.
Cats in the well, the gentle lady is asleep.
She aint hearing a thing, the silence is a-stickin her deep.
Bridge #1:
The cats in the well and grief is showing its face
The worlds being slaughtered and its such a bloody disgrace.
The cats in the well, the horse is going bumpety bump.
The cats in the well, and the horse is going bumpety bump.
Back alley sally is doing the american jump.
Bridge #2:
The cats in the well, and pappa is reading the news.
His hair is falling out and all of his daughters need shoes.
The cats in the well and the barn is full of bull
The cats in the well and the barn is full of bull
The night is so long and the table is oh, so full
Bridge #3:
The cats in the well and the servant is at the door.
The drinks are ready and the dogs are going to war.
The cats in the well, the leaves are starting to fall
The cats in the well, leaves are starting to fall
Goodnight, my love, may the lord have mercy on us all.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Old Barn By The Side Of The Fields Of Hay
an old barn by the side of the fields of hay
is nothing but an old barn to your eyes
miguelito
this barn has been here ten years ago and it will be here
for another more years with you
father always
had it repaired before he died and when i take charge
i still come here and think once in a while
what is in this barn
that refuses to be broken
something that negates
the art of losing
it is the memory of my youth
it was here where the hay smelt pungent
for the first time
it was here when i was first
deflowered
changed
don't laugh, it was here that i felt
the first squirt of
my manhood, and her name was not that important
in fact,
she was laughing because i was trembling and she was
so crazy
trying to really teach me, in this old barn that refuses to be broken
in all the years
when our father teased us: weaklings.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Wind Horse
Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, gentle Wind horse, you were the last of your kind.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you were running wild and free.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, with this freedom you did nothing but give;
When one called for help you carried them to safety,
No enemy did you have.
Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you gave your life one day
To a boy with no leg.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you gave him your endless love.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you now run in the Great Hunting Grounds;
Giving joy to those there, as you did here.
Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, your life was not the last gift
You gave the People.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you prayed for us, you wished a wish for us.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, we remember you through your brother Horse.
Wi: yo: h … It is good.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, we see you still.
poem by Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk
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A Horse Is A Horse
A horse is a horse and a man is a man
And neither can be the other
And each can survive but is much better
In the company of one another.
And while a horse is a horse and that is true
A horse is but a beast
As a cow is a cow, some ask how
On its flesh we should not feast?
For they do so in France as in other places
And I don't know how they can
For while a horse is a horse and is only a horse
It is less a cow than it is a man!
poem by Tomás Ó Cárthaigh
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Live... From The Funeral Of God
Live from the funeral of God
Live from the funeral of God
This is the day you've awaited
Sponsored and celebrated
He has answered your prayers
Corpses have piled up with your riches
They have spilled over onto the Earth
We spit and wear our fear like masks
Everything is locked into form
(Interrupt the feed)
(It's closing in, its closing in) The skys so dark
(It's closing in, its closing in) The skys so dark
(It's closing in, its closing in) The skys so dark
(It's closing in, its closing in) The skys so dark
Are men no worse than demons?
Are armies not thirsty for bleed?
The desire of their hearts has been met
Eons and eons
Decades of liars
Drink with power atop the mountains of corpses
Their arms and legs fail and they crawl like serpents
To address those who are mourning
Live from the funeral of God
Of God
(It's closing in, its closing in) The skys so dark
(It's closing in, its closing in) The skys so dark
(It's closing in, its closing in) The skys so dark
(It's closing in, its closing in) The skys so dark
There is no reason to be afraid
Everything is under control
There is no reason to be afraid
Everything is under control
There is no reason to be afraid
Everything is under control
There is no reason to be afraid
Everything is under control
There is no reason to be afraid
Everything is under control
There is no reason to be afraid
Everything is under control
song performed by by Zao
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who Stole Our Outhouse? (Fun Poem, But True)
Several drunken revellers were walking home late Saturday night
When they passed McDougal’s farm and they spied a sight
There behind the farmhouse was an old wooden shack
The outhouse stood tall and noble out back
One had a good idea for a jolly spoof
‘Lets lift the outhouse and put it the up on the roof.’
‘But which roof, there are several there? ’
The others looked and grinned ear to ear
‘Lets stick it on the barn, there is a ladder over there.’
So at two o’clock in the morning they went to work full of glee
But they had to be as quiet as could be
Tipping the outhouse on its side
They carried it to the barn
Then got the ladders from along side the farm house
They leant them against the wooden wall
Then pushed and pulled the outhouse to the roof
Placing it on the top, watched it dangle there
Someone found some wood
To wedge under it, to secure it there.
The drunken revellers made their retreat
They hide behind a hedge, and as they were beat
They fell asleep there before the fun began
McDougal awoke at five that morning
Out to the outhouse he went for a sit
He always said it helped with his concentration
Half asleep he wandered out to the back
Out to the little old wooden shack
As he went to open the door
He suddenly realised the outhouse wasn’t there anymore
‘EE Gads! ! ’ He shouted as he had nowhere to sit
He ran to tell his wife the lovely Mabel-Pitt
‘Someone has stolen our little old wooden shack
The one we love to sit in out back.’
Mabel-Pitt put on her dressing gown
And came down to the door
‘McDougal what are you shouting for? ’
‘Someone has stolen our outhouse and left us with only the pit.’
‘You mean our double seated place where we love to sit? ’
‘Yes my dear, it is really gone,
all that is left is a hole in the ground.’
‘There is no alternative McDougal, dear.’
‘What is that my honey beer? ’
‘You’ll have to sit behind the hedge.’
Unbeknown the revellers were fast asleep there.
As McDougal started to walk to the hedge
He spotted the shadow from the barn
There seemed to be something wrong there
Turning he gasped at the sight
There on the roof the outhouse stood out against the morning light
‘I have found it my Mabel-Pitt. It is up there.’
Pointing his finger skyward in the air.
‘Where? ’ she asked running in her dressing gown.
Then looked around and gave such a frown.
‘We can’t go up there for a sit,
there isn’t anything under it, not even a pit.’
poem by David Harris
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Fairy Song
We the fairies blithe and antic,
Of Dimensions not gigantic,
Though the moonshine mostly keep us,
Oft in orchards frisk and peep us,
Stolen sweets are always sweeter;
Stolen kisses much completer;
Stolen looks are nice in chapels;
Stolen, stolen be your apples.
When to bed the world are bobbing,
Then's the time to go orchard robbing;
Yet the fruit were scarce worth peeling
Were it not for stealing, stealing.
poem by Thomas Randolph
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Song of Fairies Robbing an Orchard
We, the Fairies, blithe and antic,
Of dimensions not gigantic,
Though the moonshine mostly keep us,
Oft in orchards frisk and peep us.
Stolen sweets are always sweeter,
Stolen kisses much completer,
Stolen looks are nice in chapels,
Stolen, stolen, be your apples.
When to bed the world are bobbing,
Then's the time for orchard-robbing;
Yet the fruit were scarce worth peeling,
Were it not for stealing, stealing.
poem by James Henry Leigh Hunt
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