The Scarecrow
I've been standing in this field for years
and I tell you I've seen a thing or two
yes I may wear scruffy and tatty clothes
but if you did this job so would you.
I was put here to scare away the birds
but they come no matter how hard I try
I've stood and acted all tough and macho
but Crows still poke me in the eye.
And I confess I do get really frightened
especially when it's dark and cold at night
you get to hear lots of spooky noises
which can give me such an awful fright.
It's a lonely life being a Scarecrow
stuck in a field year after year
sometimes I wish I was a human being
so I could watch the Football and have a beer.
Still at least I've got a full time job
and I'm outside in the fresh air
but I just wish I looked a bit smarter
and someone would come and cut my bloody hair!
poem by Kevin Halls
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Related quotes
The Scarecrow
Once I said to a scarecrow, 'You must be tired of standing in this
lonely field.'
And he said, 'The joy of scaring is a deep and lasting one, and I
never tire of it.'
Said I, after a minute of thought, 'It is true; for I too have
known that joy.'
Said he, 'Only those who are stuffed with straw can know it.'
Then I left him, not knowing whether he had complimented or belittled
me.
A year passed, during which the scarecrow turned philosopher.
And when I passed by him again I saw two crows building a nest
under his hat.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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A Proud Scarecrow
An old scarecrow stood with his arms akimbo,
Thinking his dull life was now in limbo,
He somehow, never seemed to scare the crows,
He had tried hard enough, heaven knows.
His coat was torn and there were many more
Holes, where the crows had searched for straw.
His hat was looking limp and out of shape,
His shirt in the front, had begun to gape.
A fieldmouse had nested inside his sleeve,
Even though he had asked it nicely, to leave.
Then sadly the whole family had all moved in,
And created each night, such an awful din.
That poor old scarecrow could get no sleep,
It made him sad, and it made him weep,
He considered it constantly, in his turnip head,
Actually that old scarecrow, was quite well read.
Then one day he found he was being moved,
Into a very large building, it was proved,
A place where important things can be found,
Where people stand and admire, and look around.
A Museum that's dedicated to our Country Art,
And a scarecrow his age, just had to be part
Of this collection, that was here for all to view,
An exhibit that stated that 'he' was 'New'.
In all his tatters, he stood straight and tall,
Not minding all the stares, no, not at all,
For this new life he felt, just couldn't be beat,
Now he's a proud scarecrow, feeling so complete.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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I'm A Fan
It’s football season again
I hope my team does well this year
Football season again
I’m a fan
It’s football season again
Spread that ball across the field
Football season again
I’m a fan
Through the cold and the rain
I’ll be there at the game
A voice screaming to be heard
I’ll cry sometimes, sometimes I’ll smile
As my voice echoes through the crowd
I’m a fan, I’m a fan, I’m a fan
It’s football season again
I hope my team does well this year
Football season again
I’m a fan
It’s football season again
Tackle hard and play it fair
Football season again
I’m a fan
And at the end of the year
We’ll be dressed in the gear
As they turn to salute the crowd
And we’ll stand with pride
‘Cause they’re our side
And we’ll sing their praises loud
We’re the fans, We’re the fans, We’re the fans
Copyright Colin Coplin 2004 / 2010
poem by Colin Coplin
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Trick or treat?
It's that time of the year again
when things go bump in the night
when children wander the streets
trying hard to give us a fright.
Wearing long black coats
and witches hat's upon their head
they dress up like scary monsters
and zombies who've risen from the dead.
But last year was a spooky Halloween
when at midnight I heard scratching at my door
nervously I opened it to see who was there
it was a Werewolf blood dripping from it's jaw.
I laughed and said that's a really good disguise
but fancy calling round so late at night
the Werewolf then let out a mighty roar
and grabbed my neck and gave it a bite.
This hideous thing wasn't a child after all
and it then just vanished into thin air
since that night I've never been the same
I bark at the Moon, have claws and long hair.
So let this be a warning to you all
as you don't know what lurks in your street
just be careful before opening your door
on this years Halloween and trick or treat!
poem by Kevin Halls
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Cook Hornet Football
Standing above it all,
down looking onto the field,
there goes one number to next,
we in the lead knocking you out the park,
touch down-touch down we yelling,
makes noise with our feet,
running across the field to beat you,
never die we progress,
last year double A,
this year triple,
you all ain't stopping our style,
cause we hill topers,
big dreamers in cook county,
go out to field bi smiles,
it can't be that we,
don't know we are leaders,
leaders of a band,
hearing cheerleaders cheer,
rocking with marching band,
score from ten to forty-in minutes,
so party cook hornet football.
poem by Tommy Laster
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The Scarecrow
The black and green scarecrow as everyone knows
Stood with a bird on his hat and straw everywhere.
He didnt care.
He stood in a field where barley grows.
His head did no thinking
His arms didnt move except when the wind cut up
Rough and mice ran around on the ground
He stood in a field where barley grows.
The black and green scarecrow is sadder than me
But now hes resigned to his fate
cause lifes not unkind - he doesnt mind.
He stood in a field where barley grows.
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scarecrow
The black and green scarecrow as everyone knows
Stood with a bird on his hat and straw everywhere.
He didnt care.
He stood in a field where barley grows.
His head did no thinking
His arms didnt move except then the wind cut up
Rough and mice ran around on the ground
He stood in a field where barley grows.
The black and green scarecrow is sadder than me
But now hes resigned to his fate
cause lifes not unkind - he doesnt mind.
He stood in a field where barley grows.
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Futility
The scarecrow dressed in cast off clothes.
Sticks grimly to his given task
But does he frighten off the crows,
that is the question we must ask.
When he is new perhaps he will
but crows are wise and realise.
This ragged figure stands stock still
and will not take them by surprise.
He cannot move, inanimate.
Which leaves then free to eat their fill.
A guardian quite inadequate.
He does not and he never will.
Frighten the crows who are too wise
to be afraid of straw stuffed clothes
Though he appears in manly guise
he can’t deter the hungry crows.
The scarecrow fails in his attempt.
He never really stood a chance
Crows treat him with amused contempt
and disregard his vigilance.
5-Aug-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Another Football Season
Another Football Season has just commenced having said so just the same
A lot of hype and excitement about a field game
For many from their life problems a relief of sorts
Suppose that's why the establishments created sports.
Some things do seem to change little from year to year
Of football fans discussing football one often does hear
They talk of their Club as if the Club they did own
'Tis from people like them that Football Clubs are grown.
They talk of team ratings and player stats and of last weekend's best on ground
And of who their team are due to play in the next round
And the forward with a goal for the taking who kicked a behind
Next week with the seconds a place he may not find.
Another Football Season commencing the barracker's wife
She does feel neglected but then such is life
He knows about Football and the words of the Club song
And his heart to the Club it does surely belong.
poem by Francis Duggan
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New Years Eve
Another Christmas has come and gone
now thoughts turn to the new year
people planning their celebrations
with lots of food and lots of beer.
Christmas is for the kids we all say
now it's our turn to let our hair down
while some people party in their homes
others like to dress up and head for town.
All the pubs and clubs get really full
everyone packed in like Sardines in a tin
but this is New Years Eve in the U.K.
so get stuck into the Lager, Whisky, and Gin.
Some people like to start drinking early
but this means they don't make it to midnight
and some can't handle the drink they've had
so all they do is argue and want to have a fight.
But at midnight when the clocks strike twelve
people raise their glasses and begin to cheer
couples embrace and strangers shake hands
and drunkenly wish each other a happy New Year!
poem by Kevin Halls
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Farewell To The Old Year, 1863
Farewell, old year, 'the bourne' is near,
'Whence traveller ne'er returneth'-
Passing away from time for aye,
Thy life-light faintly burneth.
Farewell, old year, dark shapes of fear,
Grim spectres pale and gory,
Flitting around, with moaning sound,
Tell us thy sad war story.
Farewell, old year, we do not fear
Republic or Imperial-
If war inclined, they both shall find
We're rather tough material.
Farewell, old year, thy past career
Hath given both gloom and gladness;
Thou gave us peace, but no decrease
In human crime and madness.
Farewell, old year, the pall and bier
Thou saw us oft attending,
And heard oft-times the merry chimes
Of birth and wedlock blending.
Farewell, old year, a voice we hear,
How solemnly it falleth-
'All flesh is grass,' prepare to pass,
Ere long the Master calleth!
Farewell, old year, thy knell we hear
Through Time's dark arches sounding;
Wrapt in thy shroud, a dense, dark cloud
Thy solemn bier surrounding.
Farewell, old year, we still have cheer,
Though tinged with doubt and sorrow,
We leave thy urn and gladly turn
To give new year good morrow.
poem by Janet Hamilton
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Be My Sweetheart
Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
When birds are on the wing,
When bee and bud and babbling flood
Bespeak the birth of spring,
Come, sweetheart, be my sweetheart
And wear this posy-ring!
Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
In the mellow golden glow
Of earth aflush with the gracious blush
Which the ripening fields foreshow;
Dear sweetheart, be my sweetheart,
As into the noon we go!
Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
When falls the bounteous year,
When fruit and wine of tree and vine
Give us their harvest cheer;
Oh, sweetheart, be my sweetheart,
For winter it draweth near.
Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
When the year is white and old,
When the fire of youth is spent, forsooth,
And the hand of age is cold;
Yet, sweetheart, be my sweetheart
Till the year of our love be told!
poem by Eugene Field
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By my sweetheart
Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
When birds are on the wing,
When bee and bud and babbling flood
Bespeak the birth of spring,
Come, sweetheart, be my sweetheart
And wear this posy-ring!
Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
In the mellow golden glow
Of earth aflush with the gracious blush
Which the ripening fields foreshow;
Dear sweetheart, be my sweetheart,
As into the noon we go!
Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
When falls the bounteous year,
When fruit and wine of tree and vine
Give us their harvest cheer;
Oh, sweetheart, be my sweetheart,
For winter it draweth near.
Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
When the year is white and old,
When the fire of youth is spent, forsooth,
And the hand of age is cold;
Yet, sweetheart, be my sweetheart
Till the year of our love be told!
poem by Eugene Field
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New-Year's Eve
Good old days--dear old days
When my heart beat high and bold--
When the things of earth seemed full of life,
And the future a haze of gold!
Oh, merry was I that winter night,
And gleeful our little one's din,
And tender the grace of my darling's face
As we watched the new year in.
But a voice--a spectre's, that mocked at love--
Came out of the yonder hall;
'Tick-tock, tick-tock!' 't was the solemn clock
That ruefully croaked to all.
Yet what knew we of the griefs to be
In the year we longed to greet?
Love--love was the theme of the sweet, sweet dream
I fancied might never fleet!
But the spectre stood in that yonder gloom,
And these were the words it spake,
'Tick-tock, tick-tock'--and they seemed to mock
A heart about to break.
'T is new-year's eve, and again I watch
In the old familiar place,
And I'm thinking again of that old time when
I looked on a dear one's face.
Never a little one hugs my knee
And I hear no gleeful shout--
I am sitting alone by the old hearthstone,
Watching the old year out.
But I welcome the voice in yonder gloom
That solemnly calls to me:
'Tick-tock, tick-tock!'--for so the clock
Tells of a life to be;
'Tick-tock, tick-tock!'-'tis so the clock
Tells of eternity.
poem by Eugene Field
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Dreaming of My Deceased Wife on the Night of the 20th Day of the First Month
Ten years living and dead have drawn apart
I do nothing to remember
But I can not forget
Your lonely grave a thousand miles away...
Nowhere can I talk of my sorrow --
Even if we met, how would you know me
My face full of dust
My hair like snow?
In the dark of night, a dream: suddenly, I am home
You by the window
Doing your hair
I look at you and can not speak
Your face is streaked by endless tears
Year after year must they break my heart
These moonlit nights?
That low pine grave?
poem by Su Shi
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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My Winter Season
The calm after the storm
A beautiful thing
Orange autumn sky
Wet green grass
Dead brown leaves
A few little birds still sing
The temperature is low
Im not complaining
This atmosphere makes me happy
I can wear all my warm clothes
The people are calm
My energy is no longer draining
The parks are all empty
The rivers start to ice
Cars frost over
Day turns to night
The season is bad but the mood nice
The frost now covers the ground
The trees with leaves no more
Its always mellow now a day
The cold has set in to stay now
My mind starts to go astray
This season is my own
The year is almost over
It won't be long now until its over
I don't want it to end
Spring will come soon with the first little clover
My love for this time has no reason
I just don't want it to do
All year around I've looked forward to now
Its my time right now
My beautiful season
poem by Daniel Laurence
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I have been lucky, of course. Like, last year, if I went out, I'd have to fight to chat someone up. This year, I look exactly the same, which is really scruffy, and yet lots of people seem to have just changed their minds and decided I'm really sexy.
quote by Robert Pattinson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Christmas, bah humbug!
It's on it's way again
the costliest time of the year
Christmas doesn't come cheap
you need money to bring yuletide cheer.
Children want lots of this and that
they don't care about the price
and teenagers ask for designer gear
and expensive things that smell nice.
So it's no wonder by the time it arrives
some parents are really stressed out
while the kids play with their new toys
mum and dad scream and shout.
Still eventually it does come to an end
and thankfully it's just once a year
so the best thing is to just grin and bear it
and get stuck into the food and the beer!
poem by Kevin Halls
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Krishnakali
In the village they call her the dark girl
but to me she is the flower Krishnakali
On a cloudy day in a field
I saw the dark girl's dark gazelle-eyes.
She had no covering on her head,
her loose hair had fallen on her back.
Dark? However dark she be,
I have seen her dark gazelleeyes.
Two black cows were lowing,
as it grew dark under the heavy clouds.
So with anxious, hurried steps,
the dark girl came from her hut.
Raising her eyebrows toward the sky,
she listened a moment to the clouds' rumble.
Dark? However dark she be,
I have seen her dark gazelle-eyes.
A gust of the east wind
rippled the rice plants.
I was standing by a ridge,
alone in the field.
Whether or not she looked at me
Is known only to us two.
Dark? However dark she be,
I have seen her dark gazelle-eyes.
This how the Kohldark cloud
rises in the northeast in Jaistha;
the soft dark shadow
descends on the Tamal grove in Asharh;
and sudden delight floods the heart
in the night of Sravan.
Dark? However dark she be,
I have seen her dark gazelle-eyes.
To me she is the flower Krishnakali,
whatever she may be called by others.
In a field in Maynapara village
I saw the dark girl's dark gazelle-eyes.
She did not cover her head,
not having the time to feel embarrassed.
Dark? However dark she be,
I have seen her dark gazelle-eyes.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Oh, Halloween Eve
Owls are screeching
It’s icy cold outside,
The wind is howling
Leaves crackle under feet
On neighbor’s porches,
Glowing pumpkins greet
Arms are reaching
For candy baskets,
Kids are seeking
Shadows creep up on you
You almost scream,
When ghosts fly by n’ go boo!
Witches everywhere
On scruffy brooms,
Fly thru the night air
Costumes are a fright
Oh, Halloween Eve,
What a spooky night!
A Poem By Eva (Age 7)
poem by Ray Lucero
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