The Fence
I built the fence on a cold grey hill
With bar and shovel and axe and maul
And quite a measure of toil and will,
For I needed a paddock to clear and till,
So I dug the holes by the bloodwoods tall
And I felled the ones that grew on the line
And cut them into a handy length
That would serve the purpose of my design,
For each a link in the fence's spine,
And each would add to the fence its strength.
Each post I barked, and I sapped and stood
In a line as straight as a rifle shot,
And the sap ran red from the honest wood
Of the native gum that was sound and good
And with age would harden and never rot,
Then the wire, I strung, and I strained it tight,
And each post I fixed to the jagged wire,
So my fence was finished by fall of night
When my gaze was drawn to a distant light
And I turned for the warmth of home and fire.
© Dennis N. O'Brien,2011 - 2012
poem by Dennis N. O'Brien
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Related quotes
Broken Fence
This fence is a token of you.
A line dividing everything,
In two, by you.
A line of wood, to gaze over.
A wire to watch through.
Barbed wire pushing us apart,
This fence is a token of you.
Separating the past, the future.
© 2012
poem by Nick Strong
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Over There
The fence is long and high where we love
You cant see the other side where they live
Ive spied with my little eye
And Ive sighed with my little sigh
But it seems Ive give all that I can give
Every hour I have to count to ten
And a thousand times Ive thought again
But it seems Ive given all that I can give
Is there anyone there
Here is the fence that they built
{over there}
This is the fence that hate built
Is anyone there
{over there}
This is the fence that turns one into two
I want to break through but Im though if I do
Ive tried with my little try
And Ive cried with my little cry
But it seems that the gate holds the only clue
Every hour I have to count to ten
And a thousand times Ive though again
But it seems Ive given all that I can give
Is there anyone there
Here is the fence that they built
{over there}
This is the fence that hate built
Is anyone there
{over there}
[brilliant solo from stan the man]
Every hour I have to count to ten
And a thousand times Ive thought again
Is there anyone there
Here is the fence that they built
{over there}
This is the fence that hate built
Is anyone there
{over there}
Is there anyone there
Here is the fence that they built
{over there}
This is the fence that hate built
Is anyone there
{over there}
But it seems Ive give all that I can give
Is there anyone there
Here is the fence that they built
{over there}
This is the fence that hate built
Is anyone there
{over there}
song performed by by Housemartins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just A Fence
I say this in truth and not in pretense
All else I wish to own is just a fence
A fence that is made out of steel or wood
Placed around my property as it should
Around my home to protect like a guard
So my dogs won't escape from their yard
I want them to be free without a restraint
To run and play without a neighbors complaint
A fence also to be a barrier from the street
So the many dangers or hazards they will not meet
But sadly I am poor and I have no extra expense
So all that I wish for, is just a fence.
poem by Randy McClave
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Red Browed Firetails
One can't mistake them for their scratchy song
To small seed eating family of birds they belong
Some call them red browed finches others the red browed firetails
And the females hard to distinguish from the males.
With red bill and brows and neck and unders gray
And red rump, dark tail and greenish wings I see them every day
They perch on fence wire near where paddocks are
And to get their food they don't have to fly far.
They live in small flocks on a diet of seeds
And I see them often amongst grasses and weeds
Of the human kind they do seem rather shy
And from the paddock to the fence they fly.
On sapling tree or creeper they build their globe nest of dried grass or hay
Where they lay up to six eggs of white to gray
And their nests hard to find and well hidden away
From currawong and other birds of prey.
Red browed firetails or finches birds I often see
On paddock fence wire or on branch of tree
Of human kind they have a healthy fear
And they fly away if to them you come near.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Other Greener Pasture
that is the usual case
when you look over the fence that you just built
your eyes gaze to the other side
greener than yours
i mean, the grass, not the greenness of your iris
if you could have built a higher fence
so that you can narrow your gaze
within the four corners of your walls
and live this life that is all yours to own
you could have been happier here
but life is not meant to be
just that
four walls, a higher fence, taking all that come
sitting down
and breathing the air inside
the lungs
which until now have not seen the
rays of the sun
play the game
climb a tree
try jumping over your fences
it is only then when
you realize
that after all
your grass has always been
greener
your air more fresh
your fence most stable.
after all you got a poodle
a rose, a butterfly, a bird,
and this PC
that knows how to write poetry.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Denotation and connotation
Fence means boundary by denotation.
Fence means barrier by connotation.
Good fence makes good crops.
Good fence makes good neigbours.
.25.12.2006.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Humbug
Across the fence we stand on looking;
Nevertheless, I can see your glances,
hear your talks, smell your presence,
feel the currents and taste the essence
of your vision, in thought, part by part
and the response I got to my dart.
Notwithstanding the fence, we’re not apart.
Over the fence we do yet communicate.
Corporals are fenced to ensure chastity;
Any fence to forbid sexual amity?
Then why is all this humbug?
10.04.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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On the Boundary
I Love the ancient boundary-fence,
That mouldering chock-and-log.
When I go ride the boundary
I let the old horse jog
And take his pleasure in and out
Where the sandalwood grows dense,
And tender pines clasp hands across
The log that tops the fence.
’Tis pleasant on the boundary-fence,
These sultry summer days;
A mile away, outside the scrub,
The plain is all ablaze,
The sheep are panting on the camps,
The heat is so intense;
But here the shade is cool and sweet
Along the boundary-fence.
I love to loaf along the fence,
So does my collie dog,
He often finds a spotted cat
Hid in a hollow log;
He’s very near as old as I
And ought to have more sense,
I’ve hammered him so many times
Along the boundary-fence.
My mother says that boundary fence
Must surely be bewitched;
The old man says that through that fence
The neighbours are enriched;
It’s always down, and through the gaps
Our stock all get them hence,
I takes me half my time to watch
The doings of that fence.
But should you seek the reason
You won’t travel very far,
’Tis there a mile away among
The murmuring Belar:
The Jones’s block joins on to ours,
And so, in consequence,
It’s part of Polly’s work to ride
Their side the boundary-fence.
poem by Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
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Baby Saves the Day
Russian family running for their lives,
jumps over barb wire fence
in Russia, it cuts them like a knife.
Only baby gets stuck with her wrap
Bolshevik soldiers show up,
Russian family scared as __.
One Bolshevik soldier soul is wise
He gives other soldier his rifle,
Let’s baby and family survive.
In barbwire fence soldier does go
He rescues baby and instantly is not a foe.
Russian family goes to America where freedom prevails,
Bob their grandson is born who hears of this tale.
I heard it today and had tears in my eyes,
We humans are not “made in sin” or “evil”,
even the Bolshevik soldier was a good guy.
(August 19, 2011)
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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In baseball you hit your home run over the right-field fence, the left-field fence, the center-field fence. Nobody cares. In golf everything has got to be right over second base.
quote by Ken Harrelson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hang Wire
Theyre going higher
Wind is whistling on the barbs
Your heads a hammer
Hang wire, hang wire
Hang wire
(meet you at the) hang wire
That man is a liar
The day is like a warm night
Salt rusts the cold line
Hang wire, hang wire
Hang wire
(meet you at the) hang wire
Every morning and every day
Ill bossanova with ya
If there were a fire
Can we scratch beneath this
Hang wire, hang wire
Hang wire
(meet you at the) hang wire?
song performed by by Pixies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fencing
fence out despair
it does nothing good for the grass on the yard
fence in hope
for they are like finches that feed on the grains
to include the wastes of the kitchen
fence out doubt
they do nothing but crowd the room
like uninvited guests
who always ask for glasses of wine
though you want to close out
but they always persist in drunkenness
fence it love
you know what it can do to your bed
and the linens
and the bathroom
it gives you a sense of beginning
a feeling of eternity
when you have forgotten how to moan
fence out loneliness
you know how it destroys you
and deprives you of much needed sleep
when your eyes sink
like boats in the whirlpools of madness
but at any rate when these fenced out matters
still remain
such as the loneliness that you cannot drive away
or the doubt that still cling like dusts in the furniture
no matter how you dust them away
or the despair that appears like blood stains
in your pastel green carpets
well, why not be with them
and make them feel that they are at home with you
perhaps
they mean no harm
they do nothing
except to make you feel
that you are not alone
that happiness is a freak
that life is like all these
whole in sadness
undefeated in our psychological wars
that after all
they are your sources of strength
the tests of your mettle.
welcome them
after all they have nothing to stay
except in your
house of realities.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Baby Saves The Day
BABY SAVES THE DAY
Russian family running for their lives,
jumps over barb wire fence
in Russia, it cuts them like a knife.
Only baby gets stuck with her wrap
Bolshevik soldiers show up,
Russian family scared as ______.
One Bolshevik soldier soul is wise
He gives other soldier his rifle,
Let’s baby and family survive.
In barbwire fence soldier does go
He rescues baby and instantly is not a foe.
Russian family goes to America where freedom prevails,
Bob their grandson is born who hears of this tale.
I heard it today and had tears in my eyes,
We humans are not “made in sin” or “evil”,
even the Bolshevik soldier was a good guy.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on August 19,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Country Sunset
There is nothing more beautiful
Than a country sunset
The colors in the open sky
Are as lovely as they can get
Across the fields of grasses
You see the silhouette
Of a fence post or a windmill
As the sun that night has set
Even the barbwire linked across
The fence posts add a charm
For after all it is country
As pure as an old-fashioned barn
Orange, red, yellow and purple
Doesn’t seem possible at all
That these colors dominate
The sky from winter through fall
When we see a country sunset
At the end of a hard-working day
It shows us all things are possible
We wouldn’t want it any other way!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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The House Story
the fence keeps a happy disposition.
it does not need it. The house does.
despite its disagreement with the door,
somehow, i gives a square disposition,
as though, everything here is tolerable,
the house is keeping so many secrets
shying away from the scrutiny of visitors
but it trusts the fence and can sleep
soundly at night, except the light bulb
which is fixed at the back of the kitchen
it keeps on blinking, wanting to tell it all,
but the master switch of the basement is quick
everything is shut off, and then the silence
reigns, it is the queen, it grieves
without a word, it takes in what the house
cannot take anymore, and the fence as the
facade, maintains its happy disposition,
deceiving all that merely pass by.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Defenses
She'll never say it
This, nor the other:
She will never
ever
love again
The fence her fortress
forewarning 'bidding
'boding
The fence her offense
insipid speech of silence
tepid
The fence is fencing
The fence her armour
sword word arrow
passive aggressive
disconnected
sultry desultory dagger
But when she lowers her glasses
in such the way smiling
i steal a glimpse
there is no defense
copyright Randy Resh 2008
The Toronto Quarterly,2009
poem by Randy Resh
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Move with a reservation
Imagine a field with a fence.
Imagine it without a fence.
Imagine it with a fence and a gate,
Like which must be your contact field.
27.12.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A woman's dress should be like a barbed-wire fence: serving its purpose without obstructing the view.
quote by Sophia Loren
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sitting On A Fence
Sitting on a fence is a man who sees no sense in fighting
Sitting on a fence is a man who sees no sense at all
Sitting on a fence is a man who strokes his twenty beards
Sitting on a fence is a man who drink real ale
But the real problem with this man
Is he says he cant when he can
Hed rather not get his hands dirty
Hell still be there when hes thirty
I told myself to keep my mouth shut
But I still end up saying if and but
I lied to myself right from the start
And Ive just worked out that Im falling apart
Sitting on a fence
Sitting on a fence is a man who looks up to his guardian
Sitting on a fence is a man who swings from poll to poll
Sitting on a fence is a man who sees both sides of both sides
Sitting on a fence is a man who looks down on opinion
But the real problem with this man
Is he says he cant when he can
Hes rather not get his hands dirty
Hell still be there when he is thirty
I told myself to keep my mouth shut
But I still end up saying if and but
I lied to myself right from the start
And Ive just worked out that Im falling apart
Sitting on a fence
song performed by by Housemartins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Manners
For a Child of 1918
My grandfather said to me
as we sat on the wagon seat,
"Be sure to remember to always
speak to everyone you meet."
We met a stranger on foot.
My grandfather's whip tapped his hat.
"Good day, sir. Good day. A fine day."
And I said it and bowed where I sat.
Then we overtook a boy we knew
with his big pet crow on his shoulder.
"Always offer everyone a ride;
don't forget that when you get older,"
my grandfather said. So Willy
climbed up with us, but the crow
gave a "Caw!" and flew off. I was worried.
How would he know where to go?
But he flew a little way at a time
from fence post to fence post, ahead;
and when Willy whistled he answered.
"A fine bird," my grandfather said,
"and he's well brought up. See, he answers
nicely when he's spoken to.
Man or beast, that's good manners.
Be sure that you both always do."
When automobiles went by,
the dust hid the people's faces,
but we shouted "Good day! Good day!
Fine day!" at the top of our voices.
When we came to Hustler Hill,
he said that the mare was tired,
so we all got down and walked,
as our good manners required.
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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