The Ever So Tall Giant!
The farmer was busy ploughing,
With three fields left to do,
When a figure overpowering
Came suddenly in view...
The giant stepped across the gap
In seconds so it seemed,
The farmer thought he'd had a nap
And this whole thing was dreamed...
The farmer blinked yet stood his ground,
The giant's shadow loomed,
The giant's voice a booming sound...
The farmer thought, 'I'm doomed! '
'Don't be afraid, it's only me! '
The giant said amazed,
The farmer gulped quite suddenly,
For he was feeling dazed...
The giant smiled a lovely smile,
No bad thoughts on his mind,
The farmer stared up for a while,
His neck somewhat inclined...
'I'm from another planet, friend!
Just visiting, that's all...'
'Good God, will wonders never end?
How did you get so tall? '
'I'm only tall on planet Earth!
At home, I'm normal size!
I exercise for all I'm worth
And study so I'm wise...'
The farmer groaned, he'd hurt his neck!
'Your poor neck must feel numb!
I know I'm tall, but what the heck!
Wait till you meet my Mum! '
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2012.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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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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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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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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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Last Of His Kind
Well I hate to say the farmer
Was the last of a dying breed
Living off the land
And taking what he needs
Don't say much for the future
When a family can't survive
I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of his kind.
In the struggle for parity
Not one man's voice can sound
Cause the foundation
of the conglomerate
Is firmly in the ground.
Yeah, they want to feed the world
But for power and for greed
Then they'll cut off the supply
Until they get what they need.
Well I dreamed I saw a dust bowl
Where the farmers used to live
Earth was flying through the sky
It had nothing left to give
Tractors were burning
On the Whitehouse lawn
Just woke up one morning
And the farmers all were gone
I hate to say the farmer
Was the last of a dying breed
Living off the land
And taking what he needs.
Don't say much for the future
When a family can't survive.
I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of his kind.
Don't say much for the future
When a family can't survive.
I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of his kind.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Farmer's Song
Well I hate to say the farmer
Was the last of a dying breed
Living off the land
And taking what he needs
Don't say much for the future
When a family can't survive
I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of his kind.
In the struggle for parity
Not one man's voice can sound
Cause the foundation
of the conglomerate
Is firmly in the ground.
Yeah, they want to feed the world
But for power and for greed
Then they'll cut off the supply
Until they get what they need.
Well I dreamed I saw a dust bowl
Where the farmers used to live
Earth was flying through the sky
It had nothing left to give
Tractors were burning
On the Whitehouse lawn
Just woke up one morning
And the farmers all were gone
I hate to say the farmer
Was the last of a dying breed
Living off the land
And taking what he needs.
Don't say much for the future
When a family can't survive.
I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of his kind.
Don't say much for the future
When a family can't survive.
I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of his kind.
song performed by by Neil Young
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Last Of A Dying Breed
Well I hate to say the farmer was the last of a dying breed
Living off the land and taking what he needs
Dont say much for the future when a family cant survive
I hate to say the farmer was the last of his kind
In the struggle for parity, not one mans voice can sound
Cuz the foundation of the conglomerate is firmly in the ground
Yeah they wanna feed the world, but for power and for greed
Then theyll cut off the supply until they get what they need
Well I dreamed I saw a dustbowl where the farmers used to live
Earth was flying thru the sky, it had nothing left to give
Tractors were burning on the white house lawn
Just woke up one morning and the farmers all were gone
Well I hate to say the farmer was the last of a dying breed
Living off the land and taking what he needs
Dont say much for the future when a family cant survive
I hate to say the farmer was the last of his kind
Dont say much for the future when a family cant survive
I hate to say the farmer was the last of his kind
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Evening The Farmer Is happy
The corellas on the tall gums are calling as darkness is cloaking the sky
The evening is calm though 'tis raining and we need rain the ground is so dry
This evening the farmer is happy his water tanks filling in the rain
Nice to hear the spluttering of rain water down the guttering to the storm water drain
Yes the farmer with the rain is happy with the warmer days of Summer ahead
The long spells of droughts and of bushfires of such things he does live in dread
In these times of climate change and global warming we do get some weather extremes
For our polluting of our natural environment our price to pay it will be huge it seems
With farm dams and smaller waterways drying out less water birds for to be seen
The countryside dry and brown looking as brown as it ever has been
The rain has never been more welcome the happy farmer has cause to smile
In the Winter and Spring little rainfall we have not seen heavy rain for some-while
The sound of the rain on the galvanize roofs is a pleasant sound for to hear
And the farmer he is looking happier at the end for him of a hard year.
poem by Francis Duggan
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Speak to him in his tongue.
A scientist told a farmer
About a pesticide’s use, saying
“Efficacy of it is indisputable
but its residue is incompatible”
The farmer took it to mean
that it is good to use and used it.
Alarmed, the scientist went to him
And warned him not to use it
And if he does, the consumers would suffer.
“Don’t use it. It saves the crop
but will kill the stomach of eaters”,
the scientist told him in plain words.
The farmer understood and threw it.
You be in his language to a layman.
23.12.2000, Pmdi
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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The Farmer And The Stray Dog
the farmer arrives
bringing with him his
viand and rice
places it in the corner
of his hut,
the stray dog
gets in through its
sense of smell
and finds its catch
the farmer's
viand and rice
the catch is taken
far away
the farmer
is not angry for soon
a woman with a long
black hair arrives
bringing him
his broiled fish
and newly cooked rice
the woman is not
his wife
and there they are
under the shade of
the mango tree
the stray dog watches
as this story unfolds
to the final chapter
inside the hut
on such a very dark night
the dog is clever
and it knows the ending
the farmer is not angry
for dogs. mind you,
never tell.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I've always said I want a farmer, not a hunter. Hunters go for the kill and they move on. A farmer nurtures; he watches things grow.
quote by Eva Longoria
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Farmers Complaint
The frosted fields are lying fallow.
The frozen ground will not allow
free passage to the farmers plough
Though things will change they always do
Then is the time he must review
the wisest course he can pursue.
He needs to plough then he must sow
the kind of crops he wants to grow
he can’t afford to be too slow.
When spring sunshine ignites the fuse.
A farmer has no time to lose.
Excuses are of little use.
Spring is the time of life’s rebirth.
He must prepare the fertile earth
and labour hard to prove his worth
.
The seasons cycle in their turn
as every farmer has to learn
If you don’t work you cannot earn.
A farmer only prospers when
he works harder than other men
or so they say time and again.
I do not know it may be true
That farmers have too much to do.
I don’t believe it though. Do you?
11-Jan-09
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There once was a farmer from Wales,
Who's chickens could lay six inch nails,
They were hard to squeeze out
But the farmer would shout:
'I need them for mending the rails! '
(Written Feb 1995)
quote by by John Carter Brown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The farmer has to be an optimist or he wouldn't still be a farmer.
quote by Will Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sheep-Killer
The sheep farmer's old black collie
had a ebony-tipped nose
that was turning grey,
as the specks on its paws
from the years under the elements
and a fog was hanging on the hill
when he undid the chain
and the far off bleating of the ewes
could be heard from the hill
and the farmer told the dog to gather them in,
to round them up and bring them down
to the corral
and with its normal pace,
no hurry in its trot the old hound
went off to do its task
disappearing in the mist,
past the paddocks
on it's way to the trees
and the farmer heard it barking
rounding up and gathering
and then suddenly the old dog growled,
barked, snarled furious, before giving
a long drawn out whining howl
and then it cried out in pain
and the ewes were bleating, bleating
as if in sheer terror
and their bells ringing
as if they were running
and the farmer got his shotgun,
a carton of shells
and an old torch
and went to the hedge calling
the dog's name, calling at the sheep
and he passed to the trees
walking up the ridge of the hillock
and only his voice resounded
while he kept calling.
At one point he saw the broken rails
with the footprints of the ewes
and the old black collie
crawled, in pain dragged her body along
and he thought good Lord, what had happened here?
The dog was in great pain and bleeding badly
ripped open and in his peripheral vision,
the farmer saw a shadow moving,
coming in with a big limp
and he turned to meet it
and pulled off both barrels simultaneously
shattering the head of a wounded leopard
and his dog was too far gone to be helped,
to be saved
and there was great pain in him
to do the proper thing, to stops its agony
and with trusting dark brown eyes
it looked at him, still whimpering
and the farmer took an old.45 pistol from his belt
cocked it and tears were in his eyes
when he put a bullet through its head
and shot it dead
and that night he said his things to God,
could not close an eye.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Collective Punishment
Collective Punishment
A bird farmer had a stroke, paralyzed saw
himself being watched by a Plymouth hen,
it sat on the sill moving its head sideways
as birds tend to do. When satisfied that
the man was lame it jumped on to his bed,
pecked and slurped up his eyes like they
should be soft boiled eggs, then left.
The farmer lived, but since he could not
see or find the eye eater, he ordered all
birds and their eggs destroyed, and hen
houses bulldozed; alas, a few birds escaped.
The farmer planted sunflower on his land,
the survivors thrive at the edge of it, one
of them is a big, red Plymouth hen.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Pig
In England once there lived a big
And wonderfully clever pig.
To everybody it was plain
That Piggy had a massive brain.
He worked out sums inside his head,
There was no book he hadn't read.
He knew what made an airplane fly,
He knew how engines worked and why.
He knew all this, but in the end
One question drove him round the bend:
He simply couldn't puzzle out
What LIFE was really all about.
What was the reason for his birth?
Why was he placed upon this earth?
His giant brain went round and round.
Alas, no answer could be found.
Till suddenly one wondrous night.
All in a flash he saw the light.
He jumped up like a ballet dancer
And yelled, "By gum, I've got the answer!"
"They want my bacon slice by slice
"To sell at a tremendous price!
"They want my tender juicy chops
"To put in all the butcher's shops!
"They want my pork to make a roast
"And that's the part'll cost the most!
"They want my sausages in strings!
"They even want my chitterlings!
"The butcher's shop! The carving knife!
"That is the reason for my life!"
Such thoughts as these are not designed
To give a pig great piece of mind.
Next morning, in comes Farmer Bland,
A pail of pigswill in his hand,
And piggy with a mighty roar,
Bashes the farmer to the floor…
Now comes the rather grizzly bit
So let's not make too much of it,
Except that you must understand
That Piggy did eat Farmer Bland,
He ate him up from head to toe,
Chewing the pieces nice and slow.
It took an hour to reach the feet,
Because there was so much to eat,
And when he finished, Pig, of course,
Felt absolutely no remorse.
Slowly he scratched his brainy head
And with a little smile he said,
"I had a fairly powerful hunch
"That he might have me for his lunch.
"And so, because I feared the worst,
"I thought I'd better eat him first."
poem by Roald Dahl
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