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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Related quotes
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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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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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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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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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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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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Kissing Carol Ann
Back in 1957
kissing Carol Ann
behind the barn
in the middle of
a windswept field
of Goldenrod
with a sudden deer
watching was
something special,
let me tell you.
Back then, bobby sox
and big barrettes
and ponytails
were everywhere.
Like many farmers,
Carol Ann's father
had a console radio
in the living room,
and every Saturday night
the family would gather 'round
with bowls of ice cream
and listen to the Grand Ole Opry.
It was beamed 'all the way'
from Nashville I was told
more than once since
I was from Chicago
and sometimes wore a tie
so how could I know.
On my first visit,
I asked Carol Ann
if the Grand Ole Opry was
the Mormon Tabernacle Choir
of country music and she said
not to say that to her father.
She suggested I just tap
my foot to the music
and let him watch me.
Otherwise I'd best be
quiet and say 'Yup, '
'Nope' or 'Maybe'
if asked any questions
which she didn't think
would happen.
No need to say
much more, she said,
and after a few visits,
I understood why.
Over time, I learned
to tap my foot pretty good
to the music because
when I'd come to visit,
her father would insist
I have a bowl of ice cream
with the family.
I liked the ice cream
but not so much
the Grand Ole Opry.
I'd been weaned
on Sinatra in the city.
Big difference,
let me tell you.
But back in 1957
kissing Carol Ann
behind the barn
was something special
since we couldn't do
much more until
I found employment.
Only then, her father said,
could we get married.
I found no jobs
in town, however,
for a bespectacled man
with degrees in English.
Still, I always found
the weekend drives
from Chicago worth
the gas my Rambler drank
because kissing Carol Ann
brought a bit of heaven
down behind that barn,
especially on summer nights
when fireflies were
the only stars we saw
when our eyes
popped open.
It was like
the Fourth of July
with tiny sparklers
twinkling everywhere.
Now,55 years later,
Carol Ann sometimes mentions
fireflies at dusk as we
dance behind the cows
to coax them into the barn
for the night.
I'm still not too good
with cows despite
my John Deere cap,
plaid shirt and overalls
which proves, she says,
that all that kissing
behind the barn in 1957
took the boy out of the city
but not the city out of the boy.
'Hee Haw' is all I ever
say in response because
I know why I'm there.
It's to keep tapping
the cows on the rump
till we get them
back in the barn
so we can go back
in the house
and start with
a kiss and later on
come back downstairs
for two big bowls
of ice cream.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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He who refuses a gift will not fill his barn.
Sierra Leonean proverbs
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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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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Kentucky
Summer steam
washes us clean
like a warm bath
as we wade through young fields,
new corn waist high
to where blue sky
meets the rustling green sea.
We navigate by dead-
reckoning to the red barn.
Wary of snakes,
with flailing stick you flush
out the tall, quick hares.
Feathers flashing, quail
burst heavenward at
our clumsy approach,
but in the dark barn
we find
forgiveness.
God's own light streams down
into fragrant stalls
as their wise eyes
regard us.
We reach out to touch.
They nod,
first in warning,
then with bright approval.
poem by Steven Federle
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The Web
Two old spinsters
Sitting in the barn,
One used candlewick
The other used yarn,
One wore a bonnet
With a white lace trim,
The other bobbed her hair
With a dragonfly pin.
They spun and they spun
‘Til the bobbins were full,
They'd squeeze out the knots
Put a twist in the wool,
They spun through the day
And on through the night
And glared at each other
If it didn't look right.
While up in the beams
Of the barn overhead
Two spinsters were spinning out
A gossamer thread,
They stared on down
With their little black eyes
And they spun round the bonnet
And the red dragonfly.
The webs floated down
Were glued to each face
With the spinsters spinning
At a frantic pace.
The wheels stopped spinning
With a sudden click-clack
As the spinsters stared
At those eyes, so black.
As the next day dawned
They came to the barn,
The men and the children
Of that little old farm,
The spinsters were spun
In a giant cobweb,
As they sat, eyes staring -
They were stone cold dead!
13 October 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
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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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The Light By The Barn
The light by the barn that shines all night
pales at dawn when a little breeze comes.
A little breeze comes breathing the fields
from their sleep and waking the slow windmill.
The slow windmill sings the long day
about anguish and loss to the chickens at work.
The little breeze follows the slow windmill
and the chickens at work till the sun goes down--
Then the light by the barn again.
poem by William Stafford
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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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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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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.