Improved Farm Land
Tall timber stood here once, hee on a corn belt farm along the Monon.
Here the roots of a half-mile of trees dug their runners deep in the loam for a grip and a hold against wind storms.
Then the axemen came and the chips flew to the zing of steel and handle--the lank railsplitters cut the big ones first, the beeches and the oaks, then the brush.
Dynamite, wagons, and horses took the stumps--the plows sunk their teeth in--now it is first class corn land--omproved property--and the hogs grunt over the fodder crops.
It would come hard now for this half mile of improved farm land along the Monon corn belt, on a piece of Grand Prarie, to remember once it had a great singing family of trees.
poem by Carl Sandburg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Corn Circles
Corn circles
Appearing all over the land
Corn circles
Appearing all over the land
Nobody knows where they come from
Nobody understands
Corn circles
Mysterious symbols in the fields
Corn circles
Mysterious symbols in the fields
No one knows - are they phony
Or maybe are they real?
Corn circles!
Corn circles!
Corn circles
Is somebody playing a trick?
Corn circles
Pixies, witches, hoaxers
Take your pick
Throw a few theories out there
See what sticks!
Corn circles!
Corn circles!
Corn circles
Patterns in the gold
Corn circles
Pretty patterns in the gold
Like something out of the future
Or something very old
Corn circles!
Corn circles!
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Monkeys
and after he cut the grasses
plowed the farm and planted
it all with corn
the monkeys simply watch
and keep on playing
on the branches of the trees,
and when
the corn grew and showed
their big ears and
golden hair,
there and then the monkeys
came and made their claim.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Off the Track
Oh where the deuce is the track, the track?
Round an' round, an' forrard, an' back!
“Keep the sun on yer right,” they said—
But, hang it, he's gone an' got over my head!
“Make for a belt of apple trees;”—
Jist so. But where's yer belt, if ye please?
By gum, it's hot! This child'll melt,
An' there ain't no apples, nor ain't no belt.
“Keep clear o' the timber-getters' tracks,”
But wich is wich, I'd beg to ax?
They forks and jines, the devil knows how—
I wish I'd a sight o' either now!
“Leave the track,” sez they, “when you sees
Some yards to the right two big grass trees.”
Two! It's dozens on dozens I pass—
Most on 'em big, an' all on 'em grass.
Oh where the deuce is the track, the track?
I'm fairly taken aback, aback.
“Keep tow'rd the river. You can't go wrong.”
Whew? Can't I, though! That was rayther strong.
“Follow the lay o' the land,” sez they;
But, Lord, this flat ain't got no lay!
Whew! Ain't it hot on the pint o' the nose?
An' the more I mops the hotter I grows.
“An' when you comes to the foot o' the range”—
WHEN! That's the pint. But ain't it strange,
That the further I goes, to left or right,
The more there ain't no range in sight.
Gum trees, gum trees, slim an' high,
Timber green an' timber dry.
Blackened stumps an' fallen logs—
Lively work as on we jogs!
Oh the devil an' all take the flat, the flat!
I'm one myself for the matter o' that.
I'm mazed, an' so is the brute I rides,
An' the sun's getting over the left besides.
Dash it, I'll follow my nose, my nose!
Step out, straight forrard, here goes, here goes!
Let the sun be left, or the sun be right,
Summat or other must come in sight.
* * * * *
Well, well! If this ain't too bad by half!
Lor', how the beggars 'll laugh an' chaff!
Back to my startin' point? Yes; tis so.
I put up them slip-rails six hours ago.
poem by James Brunton Stephens
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You really get the most out of sweet corn if you pick the corn off the stalk and rush it to a pot of boiling water. The longer you wait, the more sugar you lose. But if you get it in the first half hour, that is the sweetest corn ever.
quote by Sam Donaldson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Women's song of the corn
How beautiful are the corn rows,
Stretching to the morning sun,
Stretching to the evening sun.
Very beautiful, the long rows of corn.
How beautiful is the white corn,
I husk it,
I grind it.
Very beautiful, my white corn.
How beautiful is the red corn,
I gather it and make fine meal,
I am glad doing this.
Very beautiful, my red corn.
How beautiful is the black corn,
I give it to my father,
To my mother,
I give it to my child.
Very beautiful, the black corn.
How beautiful is the mottled corn,
Like the sky with little clouds,
I eat it looking at the sky.
Very beautiful, my mottled corn.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Women's harvest song
I am waving a ripe sunflower,
I am scattering sunflower pollen to the four world-quarters.
I am joyful because of my melons,
I am joyful because of my beans,
I am joyful because of my squashes.
The sunflower waves.
So did the corn wave
When the wind blew against it,
So did my white corn bend
When the red lightning descended upon it,
It trembled as the sunflower
When the rain beat down its leaves.
Great is a ripe sunflower,
And great was the sun above my corn-fields.
His fingers lifted up the corn-ears,
His hands fashioned my melons,
And set my beans full in the pods.
Therefore my heart is happy
And I will lay many blue prayer-sticks at the shrine of Ta-wa.
I will give corn to Ta-wa,
Yellow corn, blue corn, black corn.
I wave the sunflower,
The sunflower heavy with pollen.
I wave it, I turn it, I sing,
Because I am happy.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Schroeder the Fisherman
I sat on the bank above Bernadotte
And dropped crumbs in the water,
Just to see the minnows bump each other,
Until the strongest got the prize.
Or I went to my little pasture,
Where the peaceful swine were asleep in the wallow,
Or nosing each other lovingly,
And emptied a basket of yellow corn,
And watched them push and squeal and bite,
And trample each other to get the corn.
And I saw how Christian Dallman's farm,
Of more than three thousand acres,
Swallowed the patch of Felix Schmidt,
As a bass will swallow a minnow
And I say if there's anything in man --
Spirit, or conscience, or breath of God
That makes him different from fishes or hogs,
I'd like to see it work!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Snap (Fun Poem 125)
Woke up and had a shower
felt great and refreshed,
laid my clothes out
and started to get dressed.
Dragged on my trousers
and then pulled on my belt.
Snap!
I stood there with half a belt in my hand
and my trousers around my ankles.
Now I need a length of string
to hold my trousers up.
Looks like it gonna be
a new belt day today.
(7 July 2011)
poem by David Harris
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Caw
The January wind
Freezes a crow
In mid-flight
And mid-caw
And suspends it
In the icy blue sky.
It's black eyes bulge.
Its caw,
Stuck on high,
Dogs me deep
Into a corn field,
Slicing through
All the crunching and
Rustling of the brittle,
Frost tinged
Corn stalks
Scraping my coat
As I brush by.
poem by Francis Santaquilani
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Victory
Victory is ours!
Said one crow to the other,
As they soared in the sky above.
For below them they had spied
Golden corn, that was ripe,
From which, they would have their feast.
Tantalizing ears of gold
Laying out row upon row
Though as a river when the wind blowed.
'And no one is there'!
Exclaimed one crow in the air
'To protect that golden hair'.
So victory is ours!
Exclaimed the crows beginning there dive
Upon the corn, coming into sight.
But then shots rang out,
And two crows fell to the ground
As the corn waived in the wind.
Then walked two farmers to the crows
Who were hidden out of view
To observe the birds which flew.
Then one farmer spoke to the other
About the corn they defended together,
Exclaiming, 'victory is ours, over all others'.
poem by Randy McClave
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The Horses Of The Sea
The horses of the sea
Rear a foaming crest,
But the horses of the land
Serve us the best.
The horses of the land
Munch corn and clover,
While the foaming sea-horses
Toss and turn over.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Hard Living
Hard living
In the country
Planting the corn
In the fields
Living a dream
Where we see our corn grow
Hard living
Planting that corn in the fields
In this warm summer day
Hard living
We have while living in the country
Our dream
Is to see our corn grow
This earth is strong
The rain we need
To water our fields
We pray for the rain
We worship the rain
We praise God for the rain
The rain helps our crops to grow
Our dream is to have a good crop this year
We are proud of our country
We are the country man
We work hard with our hands in the fields
This is what we call hard living
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Grow grass, not corn
If you want to help someone grow up,
Do it like growing grass in a lawn,
Not like growing corn in a farm
Growing corn expecting a harvest
Will mar the pleasure of your efforts
In case the harvest turns a failure.
The pleasant mind grown out of the helps given
Need not be painted with bitterness
By putting to the test the one you helped.
28.12.2008.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Thar's More In the Man Than Thar Is In The Land
I knowed a man, which he lived in Jones,
Which Jones is a county of red hills and stones,
And he lived pretty much by gittin' of loans,
And his mules was nuthin' but skin and bones,
And his hogs was flat as his corn-bread pones,
And he had 'bout a thousand acres o' land.
This man -- which his name it was also Jones --
He swore that he'd leave them old red hills and stones,
Fur he couldn't make nuthin' but yallerish cotton,
And little o' THAT, and his fences was rotten,
And what little corn he had, HIT was boughten
And dinged ef a livin' was in the land.
And the longer he swore the madder he got,
And he riz and he walked to the stable lot,
And he hollered to Tom to come thar and hitch
Fur to emigrate somewhar whar land was rich,
And to quit raisin' cock-burrs, thistles and sich,
And a wastin' ther time on the cussed land.
So him and Tom they hitched up the mules,
Pertestin' that folks was mighty big fools
That 'ud stay in Georgy ther lifetime out,
Jest scratchin' a livin' when all of 'em mought
Git places in Texas whar cotton would sprout
By the time you could plant it in the land.
And he driv by a house whar a man named Brown
Was a livin', not fur from the edge o' town,
And he bantered Brown fur to buy his place,
And said that bein' as money was skace,
And bein' as sheriffs was hard to face,
Two dollars an acre would git the land.
They closed at a dollar and fifty cents,
And Jones he bought him a waggin and tents,
And loaded his corn, and his wimmin, and truck,
And moved to Texas, which it tuck
His entire pile, with the best of luck,
To git thar and git him a little land.
But Brown moved out on the old Jones' farm,
And he rolled up his breeches and bared his arm,
And he picked all the rocks from off'n the groun',
And he rooted it up and he plowed it down,
Then he sowed his corn and his wheat in the land.
Five years glid by, and Brown, one day
(Which he'd got so fat that he wouldn't weigh),
Was a settin' down, sorter lazily,
To the bulliest dinner you ever see,
When one o' the children jumped on his knee
And says, 'Yan's Jones, which you bought his land.'
And thar was Jones, standin' out at the fence,
And he hadn't no waggin, nor mules, nor tents,
Fur he had left Texas afoot and cum
To Georgy to see if he couldn't git sum
Employment, and he was a lookin' as hum-
Ble as ef he had never owned any land.
But Brown he axed him in, and he sot
Him down to his vittles smokin' hot,
And when he had filled hisself and the floor
Brown looked at him sharp and riz and swore
That, 'whether men's land was rich or poor
Thar was more in the MAN than thar was in the LAND.'
poem by Sidney Lanier
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John Barley-Corn, My Foe
John Barley-corn, my foe, John,
The song I have to sing
Is not in praise of you, John,
E'en though you are a king.
Your subjects they are legion, John,
I find where'er I go:
They wear your yoke upon their necks,
John Barley-Corn, my foe.
John Barley-Corn, my foe, John,
By your despotic sway
The people of our country, John,
Are suffering to-day.
You lay the lash upon their backs;
Yet willingly they go
And pay allegiance at the polls,
John Barley-Corn, my foe.
John Barley-Corn, my foe, John,
You've broken many a heart,
And caused the bitter tear, John,
From many an eye to start,
The widow and the fatherless
From pleasant homes to go,
And lead a life of sin and shame,
John Barley-Corn, my foe.
John Barley-Corn, my foe, John,
May Heaven speed the hour,
When Temperance shall wear the crown
And Rum shall lose its power;
When from the East unto the West
The people all shall know
Their greatest curse has been removed,
John Barley-Corn, my foe!
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Real Property
Tell me about that harvest field.
Oh! Fifty acres of living bread.
The colour has painted itself in my heart;
The form is patterned in my head.
So now I take it everywhere,
See it whenever I look round;
Hear it growing through every sound,
Know exactly the sound it makes —
Remembering, as one must all day,
Under the pavement the live earth aches.
Trees are at the farther end,
Limes all full of the mumbling bee:
So there must be a harvest field
Whenever one thinks of a linden tree.
A hedge is about it, very tall,
Hazy and cool, and breathing sweet.
Round paradise is such a wall,
And all the day, in such a way,
In paradise the wild birds call.
You only need to close your eyes
And go within your secret mind,
And you'll be into paradise:
I've learnt quite easily to find
Some linden trees and drowsy bees,
A tall sweet hedge with the corn behind.
I will not have that harvest mown:
I'll keep the corn and leave the bread.
I've bought that field; it's now my own:
I've fifty acres in my head.
I take it as a dream to bed.
I carry it about all day....
Sometimes when I have found a friend
I give a blade of corn away.
poem by Harold Monro
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Laughing Corn
There was a high majestic fooling
Day before yesterday in the yellow corn.
And day after to-morrow in the yellow corn
There will be high majestic fooling.
The ears ripen in late summer
And come on with a conquering laughter,
Come on with a high and conquering laughter.
The long-tailed blackbirds are hoarse.
One of the smaller blackbirds chitters on a stalk
And a spot of red is on its shoulder
And I never heard its name in my life.
Some of the ears are bursting.
A white juice works inside.
Cornsilk creeps in the end and dangles in the wind.
Always--I never knew it any other way--
The wind and the corn talk things over together.
And the rain and the corn and the sun and the corn
Talk things over together.
Over the road is the farmhouse.
The siding is white and a green blind is slung loose.
It will not be fixed till the corn is husked.
The farmer and his wife talk things over together.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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The Farm
There┬┤s a cockroach in my coffee
There┬┤s a needle in my arm
And I feel like New York City
Get me to the farm
Get me to the farm
Get me to the farm
Somebody get me to the farm
I got terminal uniqueness
I'm an egocentric man
I get caught up in my freakness
But I ain┬┤t no Peter Pan
Get me to the farm
Get me to the farm
Get me to the farm
Get me...
Buckle up straight Jack
Sanity is such a drag
Jellybeam thorazene
Trancendental jet lag
Sanity I ain┬┤t gotta
Feeling like a pinala
Sucker punch-blowin┬┤lung
Motherload-pigeonholed
I'm feeling like I'm gonna explode
I wanna be a Hare Krishna
Tattoo a dot right on my head
And the prozac is my fixer
I am the living dead
Take me to the farm
Take me to the farm
Somebody take me to the farm
Somebody take me to the farm
Take me to the farm
Take me to the farm
Somebody take me to the farm
Somebody take me to the farm
Take me to the farm
Take me to the farm
Take me to the farm...
Take me to the farm
Take me to the farm
Somebody take me to the farm
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Leon McDuff
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury
I come before you to plead for the life of Leon McDuff
Ladies and gentlemen on the jury
I asking you to be the judge of when enough is enough
Now Leon McDuff has worked on his daddys farm everyday since the day that he was born
Plowing in the fields and hoeing in the garden and helping pick the cotton and the corn
Then came the time of the Mississippi floods and all of his work went down the drain
The land was parched by the sun and blown by the wind and finally washed away by the rain
So he went to his friends to get some help from them but their crops and their money was all gone
So he went to the bank to mortgage his home but the bank wouldnt give Leon a loan
He could not decide how his family would survive with no crops and no money to buy food
And as he struggled with his hands to rework his land the notice came that said his land tax was due
Chorus
Now in an air-conditioned office on the other side of town sat a government official with a frown
Cause hed been trying for so long to find land to build a summer home but cheap river land could not be found
Then in the middle of his gloom his boss walked in the room and said Ive got some real good news for the house youve planned
Theres a farmer whos so poor and whos luck has run so sour that he can not pay the taxes on his land
So just you wait a week or two til the moneys over due then go to the cashier down the hall
With his deed in your hand pay the taxes on the land have the sheriff give Leon McDuff a call
Have him tell Leon to move by the last day of July because the taxes on his land are overdue
Tell him he has to move away cause the taxes were not paid then all his river land belongs to you
Chorus
Now in that air-conditioned office in about a week or two came the sheriff saying Ive got some bad news
That Leon McDuff says hes had some bad luck and hell try to get the money but he aint agonna move
That official he jumped up and grabbed the sheriff by the arm he said were going down to take that land today
So he and the sheriff drove down to Leons farm to tell the McDuffs to move away
There stood Leon on his land with a shotgun in his hand, his eyes narrowed neath the brim of his hat
He said Ive worked hard on this land as a boy and as a man I aint gonna lose it to no god damned bureaucrat.?
Well that bureaucrat got mad and grabbed the gun in Leons hand and in the struggle an explosion cracked the air
And when the smoke and dust had cleared and the ringing left their ears, the sheriff lay a dying on the ground
Chorus
Now on this table I will lay, this gun Exhibit A? with two sets of fingerprints as you can see
But other hands were here unperceived by eye or ear that helped trigger off this awful tragedy
Now to me its still unclear just what really caused the problem here
Theres much too much weve got to know before we know enough
So we cant find out today where all the guilt should lay but it shouldnt be on Leon McDuff
Chorus
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Corn is an efficient way to get energy calories off the land and soybeans are an efficient way of getting protein off the land, so we've designed a food system that produces a lot of cheap corn and soybeans resulting in a lot of cheap fast food.
quote by Michael Pollan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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