What Is A Barn?
A barn is many things-
A barn is a fun place
To run, romp, and play.
It is also a place of refuge,
On hot or stormy days.
A barn is a storage place
For all your tools, grain, and hay.
It is also a place to unwind,
When you have had a tough day.
A barn becomes God's sanctuary,
When you begin to pray
It is also a place of work,
When work is needing done.
A barn is a place
Where freindships can be made
It is also a place
Where new life is born.
A barn is a place
To try with all your might
And finally when its doors are closed,
'Tis safety from the night.
A barn is a place for horses,
And it is a place for cows
A barn is also a hayloft,
Full of little meows
A barn is the Inn
Where our Savior was born
God, our Savior,
Christ, our Lord.
A barn is a work place,
A barn is a play place
A barn is a great place
A barn is a training ring...
A barn is..
Well, when it comes right
Down to it,
A barn is everything!
poem by Macy Dvirnak
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Related quotes
The Barn and the Down
t stood in the sunset sky
Like the straight-backed down,
Many a time - the barn
At the edge of town,
So huge and dark that it seemed
It was the hill
Till the gable's precipice proved
It impossible.
Then the great down in the west
Grew into sight,
A barn stored full to the ridge
With black of night;
And the barn fell to a barn
Or even less
Before critical eyes and its own
Late mightiness.
But far down and near barn and I
Since then have smiled,
Having seen my new cautiousness
By itself beguiled
To disdain what seemed the barn
Till a few steps changed
It past all doubt to the down;
So the barn was avenged.
poem by Edward Thomas
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The Red Barn
There was once...
a red barn..
And there
was nothing in
it.
All there was
in the red
barn was just
hay.
And that was all
there was in
there.
The poor red barn
was on its own.
Nobody owns it.
So the red barn
is by itself.
poem by Lisa Parks
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An Old Barn By The Side Of The Fields Of Hay
an old barn by the side of the fields of hay
is nothing but an old barn to your eyes
miguelito
this barn has been here ten years ago and it will be here
for another more years with you
father always
had it repaired before he died and when i take charge
i still come here and think once in a while
what is in this barn
that refuses to be broken
something that negates
the art of losing
it is the memory of my youth
it was here where the hay smelt pungent
for the first time
it was here when i was first
deflowered
changed
don't laugh, it was here that i felt
the first squirt of
my manhood, and her name was not that important
in fact,
she was laughing because i was trembling and she was
so crazy
trying to really teach me, in this old barn that refuses to be broken
in all the years
when our father teased us: weaklings.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Barn
They should never have built a barn there, at all -
Drip, drip, drip! - under that elm tree,
Though when it was young. Now it is old
But good, not like the barn and me.
To-morrow they cut it down. They will leave
The barn, as I shall be left, maybe.
What holds it up? 'Twould not pay to pull down.
Well, this place has no other antiquity.
No abbey or castle looks so old
As this that Job Knight built in '54,
Built to keep corn for rats and men.
Now there's fowls in the roof, pigs on the floor.
What thatch survives is dung for the grass,
The best grass on the farm. A pity the roof
Will not bear a mower to mow it. But
Only fowls have foothold enough.
Starlings used to sit there with bubbling throats
Making a spiky beard as they chattered
And whistled and kissed, with heads in air,
Till they thought of something else that mattered.
But now they cannot find a place,
Among all those holes, for a nest any more.
It's the turn of lesser things, I suppose.
Once I fancied 'twas starlings they built it for.
poem by Edward Thomas
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De fattige Børn paa Gaden
Barn Jesus i en Krybbe laae,
Skjøndt Himlen var hans Eie;
Hans Pude her blev Hø og Straa,
Mørk var det om hans Leie!
Men Stjernen over Huset stod,
Og Oxen kyssed' Barnets Fod,
Halleluja, Barn Jesus!
Hver sorgfuld Sjæl, bliv karsk og glad,
Ryst af din tunge Smerte,
Et Barn er født i Davids Stad,
Til Trøst for hvert et Hjerte;
Til Barnet vil vi stige ind,
Og blive Børn i Sjæl og Sind.
Halleluja, Barn Jesus!
poem by Hans Christian Andersen
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Barn Jesus i en Krybbe laae
Barn Jesus i en Krybbe laae,
Skjøndt Himlen var hans Eie;
Hans Pude her blev Hø og Straa,
Mørkt var det om hans Leie!
Men Stjernen over Huset stod,
Og Oxen kyssed' Barnets Fod,
Halleluja, Barn Jesus!
Hver sorgfuld Sjæl, bliv karsk og glad,
Ryst af din tunge Smerte,
Et Barn er født i Davids Stad,
Til Trøst for hvert et Hjerte;
Til Barnet vil vi stige ind,
Og blive Børn i Sjæl og Sind.
Halleluja, Barn Jesus!
poem by Hans Christian Andersen
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Another night, I dreamed I saw my father sweeping out the barn floor clean, and would not suffer the wheat to be brought in the barn. He appeared to me to be in anger.
quote by Joanna Southcott
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Painful Wail
Consumed with grief I am, I get relief in no way
O circumambient waters of the Ganges drown me
Our land foments excessive mutual enmity
What unity! Our closeness harbors separation
Enmity instead of sincerity is outrageous
Enmity among the same barn's grains is outrageous
If the brotherly breeze has not entered in a garden
No pleasure can be derived from songs in that garden
Though I exceedingly love the real closeness
I am upset by the mixing of waves and the shore
The miraculous poet is like the grain from the barn
The grain has no existence if there is no barn
How can beauty unveil itself if no one is anxious for sight
Lighting of the candle is meaningless if there is no assembly
Why does the taste for speech not change to silence
Why does this brilliance not appear out from my mirror
Alas! My tongue poured its speech down
When war's fire had burnt the garden down
poem by Allama Muhammad Iqbal
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Ved Juletid i Nizza
Nu er det den deilige Juletid,
Deiligst dog hjemme i Norden;
Sneen ligger der skinnende hvid,
Stjernerne blinke som i Jesu Tid,
Julelys sees rundt om Jorden.
Aaret ender med Børnenes Fest;
Ret være Barn er dog allerbedst,
Barn i Hjerte og Barn i Handling,
Skee saa i Gud den store Forvandling
Til større Prøvelse, Glæde og — Vee!
Nytaar! Hvad ruller Du op at see? -
Herre! Det Bedste: Din Villie skee!
poem by Hans Christian Andersen
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The Great Fire of Ingersoll
Written at the time of the disaster.
'Twas on a pleasant eve in May.
Just as the sun shed its last ray,
The bell it rang, citizens to warn,
For lo ! a fire appears in barn.
An ancient barn near hotel stood,
The joining buildings all were wood ;
This barn a relic of the past,
There farmers' horses were made fast.
Our once fair town is now in woe,
And we have had our Chicago ;
But soon a nobler town will rise,
For Ingersoll's all enterprise.
For water far town need not seek,
As there is river and the creek
Just find the means it to apply
And then all fires must quickly die.
poem by James McIntyre
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One Afternnon that Summer.
Despite the fact
that other local kids
were in the hay barn playing
Jane stood at the barn doors
looking in apprehensively
and you stood beside her
waiting for her to move in
or say something
but she just stood looking in
are we allowed in to play?
she asked
sure as long as we don't
cause damage to the hay bales
you replied
and she sniffed the air
and moved in
and looked around
the huge barn
with its semi dark
and smells of hay
and captured sun
and warmth
the other kids played
but took no notice
of Jane or you
as you entered
closed the doors
and moved around
the hay strewn floor
haven't you been
in a hay barn before?
you asked looking
at her bright summer dress
and white socks and sandals
yes years ago
she said
as she paused
at the edge
of the nearest hay bale
and sat down
and you sat beside her
in the semi dark
with sunlight making
small light through cracks
and holes in the walls
I don't like mice and rats
she said
and I saw one once
in another barn
and it frightened me
you sat in silence
for a few moments
taking in the air and smells
and then the other kids
ran off out side
into the sunlight
talking of playing
down by the pond
and catching things
you sat still
until their voices died off
and then she said
why have you
brought me in here?
you looked at her eyes
in the dull light
and her lips moving
with their small speech
to be alone with you
without prying eyes
you said
oh I see
she replied
and stood up
and climbed upwards
on the hay bales
with you following
behind her
seeing her sway
as she moved
her hands pulling
her upwards
her legs taking each step
onto a hay bale carefully
then having reach
high up in the barn
she sat down
and you sat beside her
if my father saw me here
he'd think things
Jane said
and she looked at you
with her large eyes
what things? you asked
watching her lay back
with her hands
behind her head
I don't know
he never said
she muttered
as she lay there
she lifted a leg
and her dress
slipped downwards
revealing a glimpse
of naked thigh
that's parents for you
you uttered
never saying
what they think
or saying things
but don't explain
you lay down
beside her
on the hay
as outside the barn
the soft sound
of pitter patter
on the roof
of sudden rain.
poem by Terry Collett
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The Grain Tribute
There came an officer knocking by night at my door
In a loud voice demanding grain-tribute.
My house-servants dared not wait till the morning,
But brought candles and set them on the barn-floor.
Passed through the sieve, clean-washed as pearls,
A whole cart-load, thirty bushels of grain.
But still they cry that it is not paid in full:
With whips and curses they goad my servants and boys.
Once, in error, I entered public life;
I am inwardly ashamed that my talents were not sufficient.
In succession I occupied four official posts;
For doing nothing—ten years’ salary!
Often have I heard that saying of ancient men
That “good and ill follow in an endless chain.”
And to-day it ought to set my heart at rest
To return to others the corn in my great barn.
In My Mind
Album : Silencer (2001)
In my mind, in my mind a world of enchantment
Being sung through my mind
In my mind, visual enhancement
And I find myself in a red painted barn,
A million stars they pick me up and spin me
CHORUS
And now I am floating in a land of confusion
Or is it reality or just an illusion
And nothing makes sense, no start and no end
When you get more is when you get bored
In my mind, in my mind
Turning the handle and it's starting to stain
In my mind burns like a candle
And the wax tells a fairy tale
My heads for sale
I'm swimming through the hail
REPEAT CHORUS
In my mind, in my mind, in my mind
In my mind, (why can't you find yourself another place to rest...) in my mind, in my mind
In my mind, in my mind, in my mind
In my mind I see a red painted barn,
A million stars they pick me up and spin me
And now I am floating in a land of confusion
Or is it reality or just an illusion
And nothing makes sense, no start and no end
Cos when you get more is when you get bored
When you get more is when you get something
(Why can't you find yourself another place to rest...)
Cos when you get more is when you get bored
When you get more is when you get bored
When you get more is when you get bored
When you get more is when you get something
(Why can't you find yourself another place to rest...)
When you get more is when you get bored
When you get more is when you get bored
When you get more is when you get bored
When you get more is when you get something
song performed by by Zed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Big Barn Bed
Whos that coming round that corner
Whos that coming round that bend
Whos that coming round that corner, will it
Will it be my friend
Keep on sleeping in a big barn bed
Keep on sleeping in a big barn bed
Who you gonna weep on? / who you gonna sleep on?
Who you gonna creep on next?
Weeping on a willow / sleeping on a pillow
Leaping armadillo, yes
Keep on sleeping in a big barn bed etc.
Will it be my friend
Keep on sleeping in a big barn bed
Who you gonna weep on? / who you gonna sleep on?
Whos you gonna creep on next?
Weeping on a willow / sleeping on a pillow
Leaping armadillo, yes
Keep on sleeping in a big barn bed
Keep on sleeping in a big barn bed etc.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let It Be.
She always had that, Let It Be, album
On the turntable, with him, the latest uncle,
Sitting beside her on the couch or in her bed,
Smoking, making out, and you were told to go
Outside and play and leave her be, and so
You’d go out and play or find some mischief
To do with Hawksmith, who always seemed
To know how you felt, what made you tick,
And he’d say, let’s go up to Grundle’s barn,
Let’s go make out in the hay, and he’d laugh,
And so you’d go to the barn or down by Mullen’s
Pond and watch him fish. She always played
That darn Let It Be album when she was high,
Had it up loud, the music blaring out over
The yard, and she and him, laughing and cursing,
And when you used to creep back to the house
Late at night the lights were on and you’d hear
The Beatles’ album going round and round on
The turntable without reason or any sound.
poem by Terry Collett
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If a farmer fills his barn with grain, he gets mice. If he leaves it empty, he gets actors.
quote by Walter Scott
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Morning and Memories
She had managed to get out
and met you by the pond
where you had been waiting
and the morning air was fresh
and the birds were in song
and the flowers around the pond
were colourful
and she sat beside you
and said
Had to sneak out
the back way
before my mother
gave me chores
and anyway
it's too nice a day
to be stuck indoors
and she looked at you
and smiled her bright smile
and you said
Glad you came
don't like being here
unless you're with me
it reminds me of you
this place
us being here together
and she said
Remember that time
we were here
and the rain came down
and we got drenched
and had to run to the barn
and shelter
and we were warm
and looked at each other
and then she stopped
and looked at the pond
and at the ducks there
and the bright morning sky
and you said
Yes that was a time to remember
and do you remember
that mouse that ran over your leg
and you screamed
and it echoed
around the barn
as if you were being murdered
and she laughed
and put her head
on your shoulder
and said
I can't help it
if mice frighten me
and you sensed her head
against you
and wanted that moment
like all moments with her
never to end
but some how
to always to be there
memories and moments
and feelings
and the ducks
and the smell
of the morning air
always to be in my mind
and always to be there.
poem by Terry Collett
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The Freebooter
No door has my house,
No house has my door;
And in and out ever
I carry my store.
No grate has my kitchen,
No kitchen my grate;
Yet roasts it and boils it
Both early and late.
My bed has no trestles,
My trestles no bed;
Yet merrier moments
No mortal e'er led.
My cellar is lofty,
My barn is full deep,
From top to the bottom,--
There lie I and sleep.
And soon as I waken,
All moves on its race;
My place has no fixture,
My fixture no place.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Whole Lotta Shakin Goin On
Come over baby whole lot of shakin goin on
Yes I said come over baby baby you cant go wrong
We aint faken it whole lot of shakin goin on
Well I said come over baby we got chicken in the boarder
Oooh... huh.. come over baby baby got move a little harder
We aint faken it whole lot of shakin goin on
Well I said shake baby shake
I said shake baby shake
I said shake it baby shake it
I said shake baby shake
Come on over whole lot of shakin goin on
Ahhhhh lets go
Well I said come over baby we got chicken in the
Barn hoose barn what barn my barn
Come over baby better got to move along
We aint fake it whole lot of shakin goin on
Easy now shake it ahhhh... shake it babe
Yeah.... you can shake one time for me
Well I said come over baby whole lot of shakin goin on
Now lets get real low one time now shake baby shake
All you gotta honey is kinda stand in one spot
Wiggle around just a little bit
Thats what you gotta do yeah....
Oh babe whole lotta shakin goin on
Now let go one time
Shake baby shake
Shake baby shake
Shake baby shake
Come on over whole lot of shakin goin on
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vehicles
This is a place on the way after the distances
can no longer be kept straight here in this dark corner
of the barn a mound of wheels has convened along
raveling courses to stop in a single moment
and lie down as still as the chariots of the Pharaohs
some in pairs that rolled as one over the same roads
to the end and never touched each other until they
arrived here some that broke by themselves and were left
until they could be repaired some that went only
to occasions before my time and some that have spun
across other countries through uncounted summers
now they go all the way back together the tall
cobweb-hung models of galaxies in their rings
of rust leaning against the stone hail from Rene's
manure cart the year he wanted to store them here
because there was nobody left who could make them like that
in case he should need them and there are the carriage wheels
that Merot said would be worth a lot some day
and the rim of the spare from bald Bleret's green Samson
that rose like Borobudur out of the high grass
behind the old house by the river where he stuffed
mattresses in the morning sunlight and the hens
scavenged around his shoes in the days when the black
top-hat sedan still towered outside Sandeau's cow barn
with velvet upholstery and sconces for flowers and room
for two calves instead of the back seat when their time came
poem by William Stanley Merwin
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