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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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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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Rigs o' Barley

It was upon a Lammas night,
When corn rigs are bonie,
Beneath the moon's unclouded light,
I held awa to Annie;
The time flew by, wi' tentless heed,
Till, 'tween the late and early,
Wi' sma' persuasion she agreed
To see me thro' the barley.

Corn rigs, an' barley rigs,
An' corn rigs are bonie:
I'll ne'er forget that happy night,
Amang the rigs wi' Annie.

The sky was blue, the wind was still,
The moon was shining clearly;
I set her down, wi' right good will,
Amang the rigs o' barley:
I ken't her heart was a' my ain;
I lov'd her most sincerely;

I kiss'd her owre and owre again,
Amang the rigs o' barley.
Corn rigs, an' barley rigs, &c.

I lock'd her in my fond embrace;
Her heart was beating rarely:
My blessings on that happy place,
Amang the rigs o' barley!
But by the moon and stars so bright,
That shone that hour so clearly!
She aye shall bless that happy night
Amang the rigs o' barley.
Corn rigs, an' barley rigs, &c.

I hae been blythe wi' comrades dear;
I hae been merry drinking;
I hae been joyfu' gath'rin gear;
I hae been happy thinking:
But a' the pleasures e'er I saw,
Tho' three times doubl'd fairly,
That happy night was worth them a',
Amang the rigs o' barley.
Corn rigs, an' barley rigs, &c.

poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Warriors Poem

Here i stand upon this field
Here i stand alone
Here i stand upon this field of battle
Surrounded by my dead

Alone i stood
Alone i fought
Alone i stood
My enermy alone i faced

Here i stand to this day
Here i stand alone
My foe's i fought
My foe's i defeated

For i stand alone
upon this field of life
But not alone i stand
for about me stand my friend's

Comrades in arm's warriors all
Upon this field of life we Stand.

poem by Dragon Heart
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fields Of Gold

Youll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
Youll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we walk in the fields of gold
So she took her love
For to gaze awhile
Upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold
Will you stay with me, will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
Well forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in the fields of gold
See the west wind move like a lover so
Upon the fields of barley
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth
Among the fields of gold
I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that Ive broken
But I swear in the days still left
Well walk in the fields of gold
Well walk in the fields of gold
Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
Among the fields of gold
Youll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold

song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wind that Shakes the Barley

There's music in my heart all day,
I hear it late and early,
It comes from fields are far away,
The wind that shakes the barley.

Above the uplands drenched with dew
The sky hangs soft and pearly,
An emerald world is listening to
The wind that shakes the barley.

Above the bluest mountain crest
The lark is singing rarely,
It rocks the singer into rest,
The wind that shakes the barley.

Oh, still through summers and through springs
It calls me late and early.
Come home, come home, come home, it sings,
The wind that shakes the barley.

poem by Katharine Tynan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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John Barley-Corn, My Foe

John Barley-corn, my foe, John,
The song I have to sing
Is not in praise of you, John,
E'en though you are a king.
Your subjects they are legion, John,
I find where'er I go:
They wear your yoke upon their necks,
John Barley-Corn, my foe.
John Barley-Corn, my foe, John,
By your despotic sway
The people of our country, John,
Are suffering to-day.
You lay the lash upon their backs;
Yet willingly they go
And pay allegiance at the polls,
John Barley-Corn, my foe.
John Barley-Corn, my foe, John,
You've broken many a heart,
And caused the bitter tear, John,
From many an eye to start,
The widow and the fatherless
From pleasant homes to go,
And lead a life of sin and shame,
John Barley-Corn, my foe.
John Barley-Corn, my foe, John,
May Heaven speed the hour,
When Temperance shall wear the crown
And Rum shall lose its power;
When from the East unto the West
The people all shall know
Their greatest curse has been removed,
John Barley-Corn, my foe!

poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Field of innocence

She's still a child in some ways
she stil needs guidence on her way
the bruises she tries to cover up
everyone can see if only they knew the story
she tries not to cry at night
but she cant hold it in
what life is there for her

shes in a field of innocence
she doesnt know whats going on
she only knows the life of pain
her family brings upon her
she prays to god each night
hopen he'll take her away

But god has a plan for her
she wishes people would understand
the painful sorrow she wallows
but people dont care about a crazed teen trying to make it
out alive

Her field of innocence is where
she lies cold barley breathing but yet
still alive cant anyone save this girl
she doesnt mean to cause trouble
it somehow finds her

her field of innocence
is her world
where she wished it was real
in the real world
til now she can only dream

poem by Dominique Lange
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song (It was upon a Lammas night)

It was upon a Lammas night,
When corn rigs are bonie,
Beneath the moon's unclouded light,
I held awa to Annie:
The time flew by, wi' tentless heed,
Till 'tween the late and early;
Wi' sma' persuasion she agreed,
To see me thro' the barley.

The sky was blue, the wind was still,
The moon was shinning clearly;
I set her down, wi' right good will,
Amang the rigs o' barley:
I ken't her heart was a' my ain;
I lov'd her most sincerely;
I kiss'd her owre and owre again,
Amang the rigs o' barley.

I lock'd her in my fond embrace;
Her heart was beating rarely:
My blessing on that happy place,
Amang the rigs o' barley!
But by the moon and stars so bright,
That shone that hour so clearly!
She ay shall bless that happy night,
Amang the rigs o' barley.

I hae been blythe wi' Comrades dear;
I hae been merry drinking;
I hae been joyfu' gath'rin gear;
I hae been happy thinking:
But a' the pleasures e'er I saw,
Tho' three times doubl'd fairly,
That happy night was worth them a',
Amang the rigs o' barley.

Chorus Corn rigs, an' barley rigs,
An' corn rigs are bonie:
I'll ne'er forget the happy night,
Amang the rigs wi' Annie.

poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Christmas Green Tree

All the trees shed their leaves
Stood under black dress
Everywhere white snows
Except Christmas green tree

Children played in the valley
Making Ice balls and stick
The black tree doesn`t open eye
Except Christmas green tree

Little stars glimpses on
With the trees waving head
Singing Carol on the way
Jingle bell and Santa Claus

The Only tree is stood in green
Horrible winter coolly days
Blessing infent`s Holy birth
Enjoy happy Praise the Lord...

poem by Vinod Kumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bannocks O' Bear Meal

Chorus:
Bannocks o' bear meal,
Bannocks o' barley,
Here's to the Highlandman's
Bannocks o' barley!

Wha, in a brulyie, will
First cry a parley?
Never the lads wi' the
Bannocks o' barley,
Chorus:

Wha, in his wae days,
Were loyal to Charlie?
Wha but the lads wi' the
Bannocks o' barley!
Chorus:

poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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For Any Time...

for any time...
i should have stood up,
and didnt,
for any truth
i should have spoken,
but kept silent.
for anyone
i could have helped,
but turned the other way.
for any injustice
i should have fought,
but did nothing...
i ask forgiveness.

for any time...
i've stood up
and fought,
extended a hand,
given more than i could,
stood against the crowd...
i feel no remorse.

i am a man...
you are either
a man, or a woman...
in the end,
that is what we are called to be!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rigs O' Barley, The

It was upon a Lammas night,
When corn rigs are bonnie,
Beneath the moon's unclouded light,
I held away to Annie:
The time flew by wi' tentless heed
Till 'tween the late and early,
Wi' sma' persuasion, she agreed
To see me thro' the barley.
Corn rigs, an' barley rigs,
An' corn rigs are bonnie:
I'll ne'er forget that happy night,
Amang the rigs wi' Annie.

The sky was blue, the wind was still,
The moon was shining clearly:
I set her down, wi' right good will,
Amang the rigs o' barley:
I ken't her heart was a' my ain:
I lov'd her most sincerely;
I kiss'd her owre and owre again,
Amang the rigs o' barley.
Corn rigs...

I lock'd her in my fond embrace;
Her heart was beating rarely:
My blessings on that happy place,
Amang the rigs o' barley!
But by the moon and stars so bright,
That shone that hour so clearly!
She aye shall bless that happy night,
Amang the rigs o' barley.
Corn rigs...

I ha'e been blythe wi' comrades dear;
I ha'e been merry drinkin';
I ha'e been joyfu' gatherin' gear;
I ha'e been happy thinkin':
But a' the pleasures e'er I saw,
Tho' three times doubled fairly,
That happy night was worth then a',
Amang the rigs o' barley.
Corn rigs...

poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Didnt I?

(carly simon)
Didnt I give you midnight?
Didnt I give you the month of june
Didnt I make it alright
When everything was ruined
Didnt I say didnt i
Didnt you say didnt I too
Didnt we both say didnt i
till didnt we say were through
Didnt I try, didnt I cry
Didnt i?
Sorry that your mother dropped you on your head
Maybe her mother dropped her too
In the end we all get dropped
We all get black and blue
But didnt I always love you long
When time was short and the night was cold
Didnt I admit that I was wrong
When the anger was new but the fight was old
Didnt I say didnt i
till didnt we say were through
Didnt I try, didnt I cry
Didnt i, didnt i,
Didnt I do?

song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Into White

I built my house from barley rice
Green pepper walls and water ice
Tables of paper wood, windows of light
And everything emptying into white.
A simple garden, with acres of sky
A brown-haired dogmouse
If one dropped by
Yellow delanie would sleep well at night
With everything emptying into white.
A sad blue eyed drummer rehearses outside
A black spider dancing on top of his eye
Red legged chicken stands ready to strike
And everything emptying into white.
I built my house from barley rice
Green pepper walls and water ice...
And everything emptying into white

song performed by by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Spark That Bled

I accidentally touched my head
and noticed that it had been bleeding
for how long i did not know.
What was this, I thought, that struck me?
What kind of weapons have they got?
the softest bullet ever shot...
I stood up and I said yeah!!
I stood up and i said yeah
I stood up and i said Hey, Yeah!
From this moment on
blaring like a trumpet
comin from above us
and somewhere below
the confidence of knowing
decsending to relieve us
of the struggle to believe its so
I stood up and i said yeah
I spoke up and i said Hey
I stood up and i said hey yeah
And it seemed to cause a chain reaction
It had momentum it was gaining traction
it was all the rage it was all the fashion
the outreached hands had resigned themselves to
holding on to something that they never had
and thats too bad
'cause in reality there was no reaction
i accidentally touched my head
and saw that it was bleeding
for how long i did not know.

song performed by by Flaming Lips
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bag Of Mice

I dreamt your suicide note
was scrawled in pencil on a brown paperbag,
& in the bag were six baby mice. The bag
opened into darkness,
smoldering
from the top down. The mice,
huddled at the bottom, scurried the bag
across a shorn field. I stood over it
& as the burning reached each carbon letter
of what you'd written
your voice released into the night
like a song, & the mice
grew wilder.

poem by Nick Flynn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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