A Voice From The Farm
It is my dream to have you here with me,
Out of the heated city's dust and din--
Here where the colts have room to gambol in,
And kine to graze, in clover to the knee.
I want to see your wan face happily
Lit with the wholesome smiles that have not been
In use since the old games you used to win
When we pitched horseshoes: And I want to be
At utter loaf with you in this dim land
Of grove and meadow, while the crickets make
Our own talk tedious, and the bat wields
His bulky flight, as we cease converse and
In a dusk like velvet smoothly take
Our way toward home across the dewy fields.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Waiting
Tonight i'll dream a girl called home
And wake up in tears
All on my own
With the sun coming up
And my head against stone
Balcony dressed and drawn
Tonight i'll dream a room so far away
Frost pale blue
The colour of a perfect day
And then screw up my face
In the mirror
As i wait for the others to call
But if i don't believe in magic
And i don't believe in blood
And i don't believe in miracles
And i don't believe in love
Then how come i believe so soon
In a cherry tree girl
And a dust blue room?
Tonight i'll dream an hour so long
Shadow soft smiles
And everyone loves me
To open my eyes
In a drag myself face undone
Hard back into the world
Tonight i'll dream a dream i dream
Without even trying i'm flying i scream
As i practice the move
I spit at my pillow stained face
And the others all come
But if i don't believe in magic
And i don't believe in blood
And i don't believe in miracles
And i don't believe in love
Then how come i believe it seems
In a girl called home
And a world called dreams?
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A little home
It is home, sweet home that counts on and matters
In my sound sleep also sometimes I utter
I long for those atmosphere and beautiful walls
Some type of magnetic pull that always gives call
All sweet and bad memories are deeply attached
Not for a moment it takes us away and keep detached
Birth place, childhood and youth very happily spent
Protection under kind parents and happy moments
I will never forget the place which helped to build?
Kind love, affection and impregnable protective shield
So much influence form all over and everything to yield
Fresh air, lovely atmosphere and free games in open field
You long for your own home when gain maturity
It goes on in succession with continuity
You have your home with kids and beautiful wife
Days are passing off very smoothly in life
The end of universe is your dear home
You may not find beautiful city like Rome
But home is called home and has no parallel
When you reach at home you feel so well
You may get tired while working at sites
It may compel you to work and more wishes to ignite
You are lifeless when returned home at night
Your mind is not at rest and continues to fight
When you reach home and find everything alright
You may be able to think what is wrong or right
You may find all comforts at home when reach
You may feel at the top of the world and rich
You may have to work hard for your livelihood
You too may have to care for your neighborhood
Home is where you get all comforts and joy
You will have to make it heaven and completely enjoy
No where on earth you will feel at ease
Tension and worries altogether may cease
Morning sun may brighten your hope
Yu may be well prepared to walk on rope
All individual dream of happy home to take refuge
You can have easy access, free entry and no one can refuse
It is for us to make it worth while and suitable
No other place can make us happy or comfortable
I shall pray for suitable house with complete peace
Where I can hang on for all times to come at ease
It is place to seek solace and new energy release
Opening of new relation and not try it to freeze
Home has remained a holy place
Nobody every could replace
It is complete reality
Go for it and improve the quality
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wonderful Wonderful Dream
As i walk by the sea
I hear the breeze blowing in my ear
whispering of things never heard
A land that cover by fog
A city under the sea
A flying city in the sky
And how i wish i could see it all
In the night i dream a wonderful dream
Of a land cover by fog
Where creatures never before seen
Beautiful unicorn
running with the wind
Lovely fairies
Flying everywhere
Of a city under the sea
where lovely mermaid
swim and dance
with lovely music all around
Of a flying city in the sky
where live a race
never known
Wizard, witches, sorcerer and sorceress
From the land that cover by fog
to the city under the sea
From the city under the sea
to the flying city in the sky
From the flying city in the sky
to my bed in a room
where the sun had shine in
and awaken from my wonderful wonderful dream
Sigh.............
How i wish to remain in my wonderful dream
poem by Josephine Lee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Arrival
Across a thousand miles of sea, a hundred leagues of land,
Along a path I had not traced and could not understand,
I travelled fast and far for this, -- to take thee by the hand.
A pilgrim knowing not the shrine where he would bend his knee,
A mariner without a dream of what his port would be,
So fared I with a seeking heart until I came to thee.
O cooler than a grove of palm in some heat-weary place,
O fairer than an isle of calm after the wild sea race,
The quiet room adorned with flowers where first I saw thy face!
Then furl the sail, let fall the oar, forget the paths of foam!
The Power that made me wander far at last has brought me home
To thee, dear haven of my heart, and I no more will roam.
poem by Henry Van Dyke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Coming Back To My Little Home
I come late to my home.
As I approach it,
I watch for my behavior
my feelings
if they are clean, talk and stand straight.
i make sure
i have no unfinished
business left:
everything is said,
told,
and done.
my room,
my my street,
my neighbors,
the house number
the five street lights bulbs
and my old car
-I do not use or care to fix, -
my 64 feet square garden,
And the silence of the night
make me feel home
and welcomed
to rest,
take off my clothes, and
all the good feelings with it.
my home
my love home
the woman i always see
waiting for me
late,
the child i like to kiss,
the stuck of white papers
needed to be filled,
and the few
articles: the subject does not really matter!
my home
my kitchen
my spared cans
and little milk
a loaf of bread that fills my eyes and hunger;
A jar of herbal tea i managed to make
my home and
my bed
stretching itself over my room
my home
my canvases
need to be recycled
recolored
and reborn
again,
again, and again.
poem by Atef Ayadi
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Fodder-Time
How sweet the manger smells! The cows all listen
With outstretched necks, and with impatient lowing;
They greet the clover, their content now showing--
And how they lick their noses till they glisten!
The velvet-coated beauties do not languish
Beneath the morning's golden light that's breaking,
The unexhausted spring of life awaking,
Their golden eyes of velvet full of anguish.
They patiently endure their pains. Bestowing
Their sympathy, the other cows are ruing
Their unproductive udders and renewing
At milking-time their labor and their lowing.
And now I must deceive the darling bossy--
With hand in milk must make it suck my finger.
Its tender lips cling close like joys that linger,
And feel so warm with dripping white and flossy.
This very hand my people with devotion
Do kiss, which paints and plays and writes moreover--
I would it had done naught but pile the clover
To feed the kine that know no base emotion.
poem by Carmen Sylva
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Chicago through my eyes
Chicago is a city that never sleeps
From parties to clubs to talk shows and make over’s
Wake up to the sound of a bird that peeps
To men that acts like a 4 leaf clover.
To Mr. Confidence that stands on thin ice
Your life is what people see it as
Make it something, make it roll like dice.
Expensive diamonds that should be in class
But comes last as thunder comes after love.
What is Chicago to the people who live?
Death is my only hope for a white dove.
To a community that arrive in five.
It’s just a city I call home for now
So let me stand up and take a bow.
poem by Tationa Triplett
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Birds are silent
Today is a stupid day
Since you are away home
Birds were silent today
I want them to be noisy all the time
I hope they don’t fly away
They should always sing for us
In this old city
There is nothing left
Except memories
Actually I am filled with the memories of you
Your face is like a city for me
A city full of joy
A city which heals me when I am wounded
A city which accommodates me
Whenever you are away from me
I am frightened
Frightened like a baby in the dark
For me, my love you are my light
Sometimes I hate this room
For it is too small to occupy my love
When we are in this room
Locked in and locked together
I always look at the street light opposite to us
It’s like an old man searching for something
Sometimes it looks at me
With it’s fainted eyes
But it always smiles at you, my dear
Oh my dear please comeback soon
Birds start singing.
poem by Pramod Sen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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PC Games
PC Games are children's favorite nowadays
Oh! those days have gone
When children used to play in the fields
They used to play football, cricket and hockey...
Now children are busy playing PC games
Various games like Farm Ville, City ville, Empire Earth, San Andreas, Age of Empires etc
Some of them are so addicted to it
They don't study
But others are exceptional
Playing those PC games are harmful for eyes, health etc
Those games are 3D and 2D...
PC games...
What about those old games?
poem by Z.I. Mahmud
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Keep the Rest
They land on the grass by the river
Invisible with growling eyes
They are the dead things
The swirl of manipulation
They are control and tedious games
You see it too, good
Let's make love
Why do they want war?
Consciousness is a fragile island
Mistakes are clattering off the wall
She is the land full of flowers
We are like drained lovers
The world bothers us
Your body is like home
We have decided to not let it in
Except for the birds chirping
The trees in the breeze
The sea and the tides
They can stay along with the flowers
You can keep the rest
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Hear (Dmc Remix)
We all have a dream
of a place we belong
The fire is burning
and the radio's on
Somebody smiles
and it means 'I love you'
but sometimes we don't notice
when the dream has come true
You've got a home here
Call it what you want
You've got a home here
to return to when you can't
face the world and you need
some support to succeed
You've got a home
We all make a mess
of our lives from time to time
It's part of the process
that you stumble as you climb
And if you ever feel
the pain is far too big a deal
I say with pride
I'll be on your side
You've got a home here
Call it what you want
You've got a home here
You're gonna want it when you can't
face the world and you need
some support to succeed
You've got a home
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy
Plowin' these fields in the hot summer sun
Over by the gate lordy here she comes
With a basket full of chicken and a big cold jug of sweet tea
I make a little room and she climbs on up
Open up a throttle and stir a little dust
Just look at her face she ain't a foolin' me
She thinks my tractor's sexy
It really turns her on
She's always starin' at me
While I'm chuggin' along
She likes the way it's pullin' while we're tillin' up the land
She's even kind of crazy 'bout my farmer's tan
She's the only one who really understands what gets me
She thinks my tractor's sexy
We ride back and forth 'til we run out of light
Take it to the barn put it up for the night
Climb up in the loft sit and talk with the radio on
She said she's got a dream and I asked what it is
She wants a little farm and a yard full of kids
One more teeny weeny ride before take her home
She thinks my tractor's sexy
It really turns her on
She's always starin' at me
While I'm chuggin' along
She likes the way it's pullin' while we're tillin' up the land
She's even kind of crazy 'bout my farmer's tan
She's the only one who really understands what gets me
She thinks my tractor's sexy
Well she ain't into cars or pickup trucks
But if it runs like a Deere man her eyes light up
She thinks my tractor's
She thinks my tractor's sexy
It really turns her on
She's always starin' at me
While I'm chuggin' along
She likes the way it's pullin' while we're tillin' up the land
She's even kind of crazy 'bout my farmer's tan
She's the only one who really understands what gets me
She thinks my tractor's sexy
She thinks my tractor's sexy
She thinks my tractor's sexy
song performed by by Kenny Chesney from Everywhere We Go
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh America
We all stand a chance
You’ll love it at a glance
Everyone
From everywhere
No matter what your race
What you look on the face
You can get the same
As the ones with fame
I dream of a land
Where everyone is free
I dream of a land
Where everyone is happy
I dream of a land
Where is everyone is rich
I dream of a land
Where everyone is pretty
Oh America
You make my dreams come true
Oh America
You make my life complete
poem by Unsal Bell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Faute De Mieux
WHEN the corn is green and the poppies red
And the fields are crimson with love-lies-bleeding,
When the elms are black deep overhead
And the shade lies cool where the calves are feeding,
When the blackbird whistles the song of June,
When kine knee-deep in the pond are drowsing,
Leave pastoral peace--come up through the noon
To the high chalk downs where the sheep are browsing.
Oh! sweet to dream in the noontide heat,
On the scented bed of thyme and clover,
With the air from the sea, blown keen and sweet,
And the wings of the wide sky folded over,
While, far in the blue, the skylark sings,
Renounce desire and renounce endeavour,
Forget life's little unworthy things
And dream that the dream will last for ever.
The love of your life, in your heart's hid shrine,
With its gifts and its torments, leave it sighing,
And I will bury the pain of mine
In the selfsame grave where its joy is lying.
Let me hold your hand for a quiet hour
In the wild thyme's scent and the clear blue weather,
Then come what may, we have plucked one flower,
This hour on the downs alone together.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hour of Twilight
When swallows and bats
gambol outside in flight,
with the moon hanging full and stars
are shining like bright beacons in the night,
some people are walking in the streets
to dance and gambol
at places where the bright lights are inviting.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flowers - Giving It All Away B-side
Renegades and shifting shades
And the lights in your face
And you friends talk lying
But some of them got flowers in their room
When its on and youre falling on every floor
That youre hoping to score
And youre every night ? ? ?
But some of them got flowers in their room
But some of them got flowers in their room
But some of them got flowers in their room
Hear the word that the man on the stairs
Knows your every affair and is holding your hand
And he says some of them got flowers in their room
And he screams in a face
But the smile on the face is cool and its cold
And it reads vacated
And some of them got flowers in their room
And some of them got flowers in their room
And some of them got flowers in their room
And I take someone home and I cant be alone
And theres faces to please and I walk on the knees
Oh you see, I got no flowers in my room
And I laugh with my mouth and I laugh with you
But the joke was a joke that I never really knew
Some of them got flowers in their room
Some of them got flowers in their room
Some of them got flowers in their room
song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Boys
Where are they?--the friends of my childhood enchanted--
The clear, laughing eyes looking back in my own,
And the warm, chubby fingers my palms have so wanted,
As when we raced over
Pink pastures of clover,
And mocked the quail's whir and the bumblebee's drone?
Have the breezes of time blown their blossomy faces
Forever adrift down the years that are flown?
Am I never to see them romp back to their places,
Where over the meadow,
In sunshine and shadow,
The meadow-larks trill, and the bumblebees drone?
Where are they? Ah! dim in the dust lies the clover;
The whippoorwill's call has a sorrowful tone,
And the dove's--I have wept at it over and over;--
I want the glad luster
Of youth, and the cluster
Of faces asleep where the bumblebees drone!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At The Chime Of A City Clock
A city freeze
Get on your knees
Pray for warmth and green paper.
A city drought
Youre down and out
See your trousers dont taper.
Saddle up
Kick your feet
Ride the range of a london street
Travel to a local plane
Turn around and come back again.
And at the chime of the city clock
Put up your road block
Hang on to your crown.
For a stone in a tin can
Is wealth to the city man
Who leaves his armour down.
Stay indoors
Beneath the floors
Talk with neighbours only.
The games you play
Make people say
Youre either weird or lonely.
A city star
Wont shine too far
On account of the way you are
And the beads
Around your face
Make you sure to fit back in place.
And at the beat of the city drum
See how your friends come in twos;
Or threes or more.
For the sound of a busy place
Is fine for a pretty face
Who knows what a face is for.
The city clown
Will soon fall down
Without a face to hide in.
And he will lose
If he wont choose
The one he may confide in.
Sonny boy
With smokes for sale
Went to ground with a face so pale
And never heard
About the change
Showed his hand and fell out of range.
In the light of a city square
Find out the face thats fair
Keep it by your side.
When the light of the city falls
You fly to the city walls
Take off with your bride.
But at the chime of a city clock
Put up your road block
Hang on to your crown.
For a stone in a tin can
Is wealth to the city man
Who leaves his armour down.
song performed by by Nick Drake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Dream Of Always
I dream.
I am a peaceful, serene man.
I know so little,
But I care so much.
In my dream
I write some,
And realize I have wronged some,
I try to right my wrongs with my writing;
And thereby, I find deep joy
In a gentle moment in nature
Speaking with a beautiful solitary flower,
My deepest thoughts I feel no need to describe or defend,
As I talk calmly with this my true friend.
In my dream
God sits happily with me,
Quietly we converse.
Together we write, together we read,
I listen, He reads me.
Such deep joy we here know.
In these mystic moments
It is good,
It is as it should.
It is natural.
Time is unnatural.
Time is illusion.
Eternal peace, serene joy, deep divinity
Is reality,
God is here......
So am I,
In my dream.
In my dream
We are always, always together.
Always, we shall be.
... time awakens...
I never will, I am in my dream.
It's the final end of night,
And the start of all new days,
I have entered - with God -
Into the always, of our dream.
poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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She Thinks My Tractors Sexy
(paul overstreet/jim collins)
Plowing these fields in the hot summer sun
Over by the gate lordy here she comes
With a basket full of chicken and a big cold jug of sweet tea
I make a little room and she climbs on up
Open up a throttle and stir a little dust
Just look at her face she aint a foolin me
She thinks my tractors sexy
It really turns her on
Shes always staring at me
While Im chuggin along
She likes the way its pullin while were tillin up the land
Shes even kind of crazy bout my farmers tan
Shes the only one who really understands what gets me
She thinks my tractors sexy
We ride back and forth until we run out of light
Take it to the barn put it up for the night
Climb up in the loft sit and talk with the radio on
She said shes got a dream and I asked what it is
She wants a little farm and a yard full of kids
One more teeny weeny ride before take her home
She thinks my tractors sexy
It really turns her on
Shes always staring at me
While Im chuggin along
She likes the way its pullin while were tillin up the land
Shes even kind of crazy bout my farmers tan
Shes the only one who really understands what gets me
She thinks my tractors sexy
Well she aint into cars or pick up trucks
But if it runs like a deere man her eyes light up
She thinks my tractors....
She thinks my tractors sexy
It really turns her on
Shes always staring at me
While Im chuggin along
She likes the way its pullin while were tillin up the land
Shes even kind of crazy bout my farmers tan
Shes the only one who really understands what gets me
She thinks my tractors sexy
She thinks my tractors sexy
She thinks my tractors sexy
song performed by by Kenny Chesney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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