Love Poems About Farm or Farm Love Poems

Farm love poems and/or love poems about Farm. Read, share, and enjoy these Farm love poems! Also, try our sister website's powerful search engine for poems.

Poem Details | by Robert Lindley |
Categories: art, deep, farm, hope, life, love, wisdom,

Truth Found, Recovery Of A Broken Soul

Truth Found, Recovery Of A Broken Soul

In nightmarish dreams he found such great dread
Of lost hope, life's decay, eyes of the dead.
Day's clear lights his damaged mind repaired
Deep traps from which his heart had been ensnared.
In sunshine he felt life's returning glows
Erase night pains and darkest of its blows.
As sun waned and shadows of dark arrived
He felt again, joy vanquished, love deprived.

What of this devilish, persistent foe
With such powers, its broken claws regrow.
Hope alone, can evil be defeated
Or must Fate decree, his life be cheated.
In sun's bright shining hours his heart grew bold
Oft from tales of warriors of old.
On such bright days his thoughts returned to her
Destroyed dark powers that made life a blur.

Where deepest love passions reign, hope survives
For in man's inner soul, true love revives.
Times and cherished moments serve to remind
With love's great truth, one can never go blind.
Standing firm with knowledge of man's powers
One can face even darkest of dark-hours.
Faith, love and hope are the right paths to take
All the rest are results of blind mistakes.

Armed with newfound wisdom and clearer path
He had weapons to overcome Fate's wrath.
Every night before falling fast asleep
Head bowed, he recited prayers true and deep.
As new dawn's brighter lights came, his heart knew
Torments were over, as joys in life grew.
Found true, cursed Fate can be defeated
If one but lives, each day truth is greeted.


Poem Details | by Christine Phillips |
Categories: america, culture, death, faith, farm, love, nature, romance, suicide, symbolism,

Take me to the countryside

Take me to the countryside 
where all the daffodils grow
fresh perfume saturating the air
dispersing sensational aroma
in the atmosphere.
Take me to the countryside
to inhale the balmy fragrance
of mother earth,
to walk on grassy lands
and hold each other hands.
Take me to the countryside
to gaze at the swaying trees, 
and listen to them humming breathlessly 
 in the chilly breeze.
enchanting birds singing in the gusty afternoon,
dancing vigorously to their melodious  tune.
Take me to the countryside 
where all the natural things grow,
tangerine, oranges , banana and  kiwi fruit.
homemade yogurt ,sweet yam
and fresh milk from grandpa’s lamb.
Take me to the countryside
to coalesce with earthy peasants, 
to run up and down the cornfield 
and waddle through onion beds.
Soak me in nature, 
and replenish my aching soul
purge my agonizing wound,
and distill my sorrowful tune.
My soul yearns for spiritual fulfillment
to drown the chaos from the external environment,
mineral water and running streams,
strumming guitars and melodious flutes
are singing harmoniously,
and whispering the truth.
lead me to a place of comfort,
a place where I can breathe,
a place of beauty and incomparable dreams.
Take me to the countryside
to mingle with the animals,
to go horseback riding,
and camp on the mountain top.
Take me away from this hopelessness,
to a place of peace and quietness.
Take me away from this desolation
and find away to solve this confusion.
I want to be free,
free from this burden and misery,
so take me with you before you leave.
When I close my eyes and count to three
at the sound of the whistle
I charge you to set me free.

©2013 Christine Phillips

Poem Details | by James Fraser |
Categories: love, hair, body, river, rose,

Farm Girl

On a Sussex farm works a golden haired girl
Surrounded by guys as she makes their hearts twirl
But her love and soul are miles away
In a Highlanders heart, she hopes to meet one day.
Its nearly a year since they were first in touch
As she's grown to adore him oh so much
Her delight will be, is too invite him down
And show him round her lovely town.
Her joy and smiles, as she holds his hand
Her heart pounding as she feels a million grand
Stopping for cuddles as they share a kiss
With her Highlander she's in sheer bliss.
The countryside where this English Rose stays
Flowering crops grow and animals graze
Noisy tractors Harvesters reap
Under a blistering sun, the baaing of sheep.
In her yellow dress, flowing golden hair
She takes his hand, as they climb the stair
Above up here is where we keep the hay
Again she takes his hand and down they lay.
Facing each other they start to kiss
This English rose in her mind she wish
To share her body with her Highlander
To adjoin their bodies as their loving stirs.
As they undress each other on this summers day
Bare skin warms the golden hay
Passions flow as their hands explore
Loving scent from their loving pores
Joys and sighs, they feel their bodies mix
Emotions and feelings in adrenalin fix.
Warmed and content,consumed in each others arms
Two heavenly bodies sharing each others charms
Kissing and cuddling on the flattened hay
As they stand up and look where they just once lay.
Dishevelled clothes, hair astray 
This loving couples summers play
Standing embrace their bodies quiver
Holding hands they head to the river.
At the river bank they undress each other
Under a shaded green leafy cover
Her naked body and long golden hair
Makes him proud to be standing there.
As they enter the river 
They caress and wash each other
Under this shaded leafed cover
They kiss and embrace to share their love
Under the leafy tree, chirping birds all above.
Heading home hand in hand
This loving couple feeling two million grand
They head to bed, spooned and cosy
This Highlander and his English Rosie.

Poem Details | by Jerry T Curtis |
Categories: baby, farm, growing up, hope, journey, life, lost love,

Season After Season

I still remember, when we first met 
The day your parents bought this farm
So small, you hardly could walk at all 
as your Father held both your arms

But for some reason, I could not fathom
You made your way straight to me
And I alone in all this land
became your favorite maple tree

When your were six, you picked up sticks
That fell from limbs of mine
And like a sword to thrash the hoards 
you raised them to the sky

At nine years old, you made a swing
with a length of rope and tire
and swung from my biggest bow
as I bid you each time "Higher"

When you turned twelve, your Father built
your dream house, on my limbs
and for the first time, I did envy
the daughter given him

At eighteen years, another came
with ring in hand to wed
and take you far away from me
A day I new I'd dread

Now years went by and seasons past
Then one day what'd I see
You all grown up and walking
with Your baby, straight to ME !

Poem Details | by Mohammad Abedin |
Categories: farm, flower,

I want to love you

There were rivers and seas
Hills and vales
Trees and green
Sky and cloud
Sun and moon
There were you and me also….

There were a lot of laughters and jokes
Trust and truth
Birds and flowers
Faith and love
You and me were also there…..

I want to depend on you
I want to like you
And I want to love you…

Poem Details | by Lewis Raynes |
Categories: farm, growth, love,

Living the loving life of a farmer

A steady blanket of funereal rain fell for days,
From the wintry heaven, onto the ground.
And by about three in the morning I was woken by
A screaming pleading sort of sound.

I had clumsy boots and akubra, and a blood scratched Drizabone
To walk me towards this holler.
And then I found her on her side, in labour,
Rolling with defiant mud amongst the squalor.

This wasn’t good, no time for medical expertise,
Or people who have studied what to do.
She had dystocia, she hadn’t dilated enough,
Her baby was too large to break through.

She’d stopped trying, but on my knees I could see
The feet of her baby were out hanging still.
“She’s lost her babyShe’d given up hopeShe mustn’t die.”
I needing all of my skill.

Immediately handy was the wire fence strainer,
That could be used to ease out her beautiful infant.
My hands were cut, my lungs were full,
She wailed but I remained focussed and persistent.

First its head, then its body,
A purge of everything else soon followed all over my feet.
And I leapt to its mouth to try and shock it to life,
And it breathed a breath sounding so sweet.

Within fifteen minutes the cow and the calf were standing,
Drenched in the mud and the rain.
And I returned to the house, cooked a billy of tea,
On my coat just another blood stain.

Poem Details | by Shanity Rain |
Categories: absence, america, art, books, business, celebration, celebrity, christmas, city, culture, dedication, depression, family, farewell, farm, feelings, film, freedom, goodbye, growing up, history, home, house, i love you, image, life, lost, money, music, native american, new york, paradise, patriotic, people, places, political, pride, today, tribute, truth, usa, world,

young American days

                   To be in a young America ~
           visions of a ship upcoming statue of Liberty
               the young lad holding tightly to his Mothers leg
             in all excitement of a new Land to call their own
      celebrations of apple pie and fireworks on the 4th of July 
             thoughts of the old Hollywood on screen 
                films without 3-D costing less then a dollar
        Greta , Monroe , Betty Davis eyes tantalizing blue glare
       The Wizard of Oz or books written by Steinbach, Capote, Mark Twain

             exciting new visions of creating new concepts 
                 before Capitalism bought all little ones to bigger
           songs came from the hills of Virginia to the black Mountains
               surfacing in Tennessee for all to hear and wish to see  

          The day when one travelled by car on the road travelled
             every town a story told , learning history we once shed blood 
         American Indian tears to the British man whom choose freedom of taxes
            Boston held a tea party , now wishing they threw out marmite instead
         The day when we knew our neighbors and bought homes with a paystub
             Everyone had a chance to make their own with pride , even through wars
        When Martin Luther King stood proudly as did President Lincoln for Freedom 
             How many streets have been named after the man whom had a dream ?

             When milk was delivered on doorsteps in Glass bottles 
                 Babies wanting the very first of the top being cream 
             leaving doors open , watching news with your family at 6pm
                cartoons were shut down and it was now grown up time 

                      Cereal being a cheap snack for after school 
                         school supplies costing twenty dollars 
                      Grandma school clothes shopping for fifty 
                   before the internet , cell phones , and text for hello ~

                         2 week Vacations not afraid to put up Camp 
                Christmas sold in December with the sentiment of Love not money
        a day when if one were sick , you could actually get penicillin without question 
         The Doctor treated everything calling it General Practice no fear of Malpractice 

               Never forgetting our Motor city  
                 Old Ford Trucks Chevrolets and Dodge
                  The city that brought Ottis Reding and Marvin Gaye 

                     What happened to us ?  Where did America Go ? 



Poem Details | by Robert Candler |
Categories: adventure, animal, best friend, care, celebration, celebrity, character, courage, dedication, devotion, dog, farm, feelings, friend, friendship, growth, happy, heart, inspiration, journey, love, magic, memory, miracle, pets, relationship, soulmate, sweet, tribute, uplifting,

Two's Magic Nose

Such a nose had Ol’ Blue.
Best in south Missouri..everybody knew.
Could smell a pheasant across the plain.
Could point a covey in a hurricane.
That’s the way the legend goes.
Ol’ Blue had a “magic nose.”
As Blue got older, his master’s mind would drift away
To a place where he and young Blue used to play
In the mornings, sitting over his coffee cup
He found it sad there were no pups.
He thought it would be such a shame
If the only legacy was Ol’ Blue’s name.
So, Jim was compelled and full of pride;
He made a search, far and wide,
To find Ol’ Blue a suitable mate.
No doubt, his offspring would be great.
It seemed likely, he supposed,
At least one pup would have his “magic nose.”
She was a Champion Miss from New Orleans,
A beautiful “red” named Cajun Queen.
But Blue suddenly passed away, before the pups were born.
Jim was broken hearted He and “Queenie” mourned.
Then came the litter, but there was only one.
Jim struggled for hope; after all, he was Ol’ Blue’s son.
Dappled and lanky, a handsome little cuss,
He looked just like Blue Jim made such a fuss.
Naming this pup would require no ado.
It was obvious Officially, he would be “Blue Two.”
Oh yes, these were mighty large tracks to fill.
“Can he?”, folks asked Jim would say, “Heck yes he will!”

So his nickname became “Two” and he seemed to be smart.
Soon it was time for his training to start.
The basics went well, but Jim’s outlook grew very dim
When, instead of pointing, Two would wag and jump and bark at him.
Oh, Two seemed to be trying; but try as he might,
He just could not seem to ever get it right.

“Blue’s son or not, he’s got to go!”
Jim found Two a “pet home” far away, in Tupelo.
On his way back, he stopped in Texarkana.
Been too long a time since he’d seen his sister Hannah.
Six days and six pounds later, he was back on his way.
His wife had said work was callin’ and he’d be drivin’ all day.
He thought about Ol’ Blue and wondered if and when
He’d ever have a bird dog as good as Blue again.
Oh, he knew another “magic nose” was just a far off dream;
After all, it wasn’t something any man could scheme.
A “magic nose” was a gift from God, only given to a few;
And he was proud and very lucky just to have known Ol’ Blue.
As he turned into his drive, he broke into a smile.
“Why… I can’t believe it!  It…It must be 300 miles!”
Two was on the porch, thin and dirty; but he struck a handsome pose.
Jim ran and hugged Two hard “How’d you get back?  Lord only knows!”
Suddenly, Jim realized; and struck with awe, he slowly rose.
A tear trickled to his smile “Why Two… you have a “magic nose!”
Two and Jim are best of friends, together everywhere.
From milkin’ cows to bedtime, Two is always there.
Jim doesn’t hunt much anymore, now Two’s a rescue dog.
Just last month, he saved a little girl lost in Cooley’s Bog.
Jim struts and tells proud, heroic stories;
While Two wags and jumps and barks, and shares his glory.
Jim boasts, “Like father, like son!”, then speaks fondly of Blue;
But all know the largest tracks to fill are those of Two.
His deeds are known far and wide,
And fill Jim’s heart with love and pride.
For with every rescue, the legend grows;
About a dog named Two, and his “magic nose.”

Poem Details | by A.O. Taner |
Categories: addiction, april, best friend, computer, confusion, courage, culture, cute love, earth, emotions, encouraging, environment, fantasy, farm, feelings, funny love, garden, happiness, happy, i love you, i miss you, inspirational, internet, irony, july, june, kiss, loneliness, love, magic, me, metaphor, nature, parody, repetition, satire, science, social, technology, tree, women, world, youth,


follow on facebook,
adore on pinterest,
fall in love on instagram,
kiss on a hunch,
all under a tree.

Poem Details | by Kevin Stock |
Categories: family, happiness, history, inspirational, introspection, life, love, passion, seasons, upliftingold, old,

On Grandma's Farm

There's an antique red barn
Sits atop the hill
And a small little pond
Chock full of blue-gill 

There's old rusty cars
Which haven't ran in years
And a hundred year old house
Once manufactured by Sears
It's loaded full of memories
It's filled with lots of charm
It's a place I know and Love
It's all there...On Grandma's Farm

Used to go there every Sunday
From as far back as I can remember
Sledding down the hill
In the snow come December

I Loved it out at Grandmas
Playing with toy tractors in the sand
Going to help split wood
Just to lend a helping hand

I Loved it winter, spring and summer
But my favorite time of all
Was when the leaves all turned
The wonderful colors of fall

I was carefree and happy
The world was free from harm
Way back when I was a kid
Out On My Grandma's Farm

© 2011 Kevin Stock

Poem Details | by Sheri Fresonke Harper |
Categories: animal, earth, farm, jealousy, lost love, love, sin,

In the Meadow

Cows bellow, low, heads between rails
such large deep sad eyes, such full bags.
For whom do they await, no one home
to let them out, share out their milk.

Not long ago I saw you wandering off with him
his hand caressing your neck, gripping your arm
holding you stiff, obedient to his will
and you were bound to follow, no sound

escaped your lips, and me, why am I watching
for the scene to play out? Don’t we all know
don’t we all grieve, for the coming of that day
when cowl slips down, the bellow, low aches.

You won’t come home, will you my dear.
I guess I paid the right price for a job well done
Your cheating heart won’t bestir us to wait
Never more This farm is sold outright.

Poem Details | by Rhonda Johnson-Saunders |
Categories: angel, farm, lost love, soldier,

An Angel In Disguise

Behind paned glass, she’ll pass her days.
Eyes fixed across the frozen fields.
Her ruby smile, a thin disguise.
Betrothed to him, steadfast she prays.
On coldest day, they said goodbyes.
Forever true, with their love sealed.

The summer orchard’s ripe with plums.
She waits and cries for dreams untold,
as farm chores help her days to pass.
Her soldier's safe return shall come
when laughter climbs from greenest grass 
and warm sunrays paint lovers gold.

Summer’s steps wane to fall’s swift stride.
In fiery heart, her love still burns.
As leaves rustle and gently strum,  
only her cat holds tears she’s cried.
She’s lulled with neighs; the old barn hums.
His angel keeps till he returns.

A year has gone, she passes days
with animals to feed and groom.
Their bright eyes seem to understand
how fears can burrow under hay.
In uniform at altar grand, 
A bride dreams of her handsome groom.         

Poem Details | by Rick Parise |
Categories: dance, farm, love, lust,


^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ This long awaited date - a hoedown it’s to be shy smiles as we head in we touch hands nervously We allemande left and do-si-do Then head ladies chain and breathlessly we meet in one another’s arms again We swirl in sawdust on the floor to the tune sweet Bye and Bye Evocative is the patter as the gold moon rises high An anticipated moment as the fiddle fades away Your denim and my lace soon lie buried in the hay Sweet echoes of the evening fill passion in the soul Upon the amber straw we both have lost control ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Poets~Andrea Dietrich & Rick Parise Cowboy HOE DOWN 10-27-2014

Poem Details | by Gerald Dillenbeck |
Categories: adventure, earth, earth day, farm, love, peace, wisdom,

Why Life

Why does dawn dress robust morning,
while dusk undresses sight?
Each dawn incarnates another Earth Day
a lifetime of Easter mornings 
redeeming nocturnal sight's revolution,
another therapeutic day of gift-it-forward light,
some longer,
some shorter before naked covered night.

Why life?
To uncover love's enlighting therapeutic invitation,
integrity's eco-arising comprehensive bright.
To discover love life sustained bilateral becoming 
within Earth dependent ego-death's belonging.
To recover co-passion's perpetual peaceful pilot light,
decomposing fire's burning fuel and flame 
and flow toward warm home health, 
timeless regenerating sight.

Why universal rehabilitation,
repurposing of people, 
regenerative places,
recycling property,
revolving plants, 
revisiting possession, 
reculturing planet?

Recreation unfolds redemptive revolutions,
dawning/darkening new each moment 
expanding each day to contract each night
and present presence life
integrative communality 
as co-operating species,
polypathic paradigms and memes,
language and information,
form as dynamically reintegrating function,
inclusive conscience as revolutioning regenerate ego/ecoconsciousness,
each loving act of mutual gravity's emergence,
ego-eco zero-solidarity practice

Therapeutic intent to rehabit and repurpose
to recycle
grows internally nutritious inspirational DNA health roots,
natural trans-generational therapeutic branches,
ecological economics healing cooperative Paradise Lost
within our Tree of CooperativeLife meets CompetitiveDeath, 
without our Tree of Languaged "Good" and "Evil,"
organic rooted landscapes
of Ego absorbing polypaths 
echoing Earth's co-arising great with small transitional nurture-systems.

Language both fertilizes and farms,
produces and consumes
echoes and enthymemes
nouns and verbs
subjects and objectives
causes and effects
grows and harvests 
induces and deduces,
inhales and exhales
yangs and yins
optimizes and purges
lives and decomposes rainbow octaves
universalizes and integrally unites polyculturing visions
building on sight
reflecting off light
rebounding of sound
resonant feelings
polyculturing paradigms
polymorphing polypaths.

Speech and thought can both rehabit and repurpose understanding,
comprehensive comprehension,
co-passion feeds con-science
as ecojustice fills out anthrocentric peace with plants and planet.

DNA's temporal analysis decomposes eating cultural memory, 
image evolving imagination, 
hope co-arising faith,
despairing dreams predicting syntax edicting climatic decay,
raping eco-screams restricting life's sensual gift potential,
universal dark negentropy swallowing and regurgitating
inhaling and exhaling
Earth's teleosynthetic life of time-squared zero-light,
both dissonance and confluence,
chaotic energy swelling complex matters
ergodic clatters,
double-negatives justifying ecological positive balance,
contentiousness challenging co-operating contentedness,
fearing ego-death inviting beloved eco-climaxing ecstatic life,
longing regenerating belonging.

Noticing dipolar relationships,
Ego-yang swelling not-not Eco-yin's Earth flight,
enrich multiculturing fields of analogy,
Win-Win games reiterating time's perception of inclusive hope,
growing consciousness of interdependent iconic-ionic paradigms
feeding within and on each Other,
Double Dark dynamic love between weeds and seedy compost flowers,
brother and sister transparent organic kosmic farm
of deep absorbing ecologic.

Bi-identified RNA rests simply silent vital void
growing confidence in SunGod's compelling righteous revolution
resonant resolution
spilling out discontented longing roots
investing regenerate co-passion's peacefilled therapeutic NOW.

SunGod is to Yang/Yin flowing power potential
as ReGenerate Tribal Identity is to Earth's voiceless harmony, 
listening discernment to and of and in and by DNA's health-assurance systems
as non-violent intent is to recreative peace and ecojustice practice,
as embracing empathic conscience grows co-passion's Beloved Community.

Decompositional function of polynomial binary/bilateral language 
grows information's reverse hierarchy of ego/ecoconscious bicameral systems,
where Right-brain not-not polycultural relationship 
rediscovers binomial space as fractal time's proportional construction,
revolving double-boundaried resolution of eternal time, 
coincidental co-arising
co-relational meeting of infinitely omnipresent past 
with omnipotent future.

Regenerate function of language creates,
subjects health objectives to empirical scrutiny,
nouns verbs toward analogical futurity, 
brights dawns both ecologically wise and economically (0)-sum co-operative,
fueling Earth's Win-Win co-passioning power toward global peaceful justice.
Eco-systemic comprehension both biofuels and farms permacultural love,
organic ecotherapy emerging all four economic seasons,
including advent's winterish purgation,
winnowing Identity's weedy monocultural/monomial root assumptions,
composting Earth Tree's rehabiting spring production branches
stretching out gravity's mutual nutritious gratitude 
toward Omniscientific Earth's radiant emerging light.

Poem Details | by Gokul Alex |
Categories: age, analogy, autumn, beautiful, celebration, creation, desire, dream, earth, emotions, farm, first love, future, girl, grief, growing up, happiness, image, introspection, joy, kiss, language, love, marriage, metaphor, mother, philosophy, poems, poetry, psychological, rain, river, sea, seasons, self, senses,

A Farmer's Eyes and a Sailor's Shadow

A thorough yield
On a farm field of far east
It took me time to realize
How far I am to my far east of coast

Call of my weather
Call of my winds
I sailed further and farther
To my naked coasts
Naive songs, Nimble rains
Nile of rivers, Nascent clouds

Reaching this far
I kissed my earth
Ground of my grief
Glory of my ghosts
Glad is those leaves
However scanty they are

Cast is my shadows
No longer they hide
My colors and my figures
They cast numbers on stars
Measure their light
Scope my winters
Scale my summers
Scanty my rains
Scuttle I wish my springs

Now let me see my greens
Their leveling heights
Their leafy gaze
Their spiderly gesture
Their primordial texture
Now let me be slow
In company of my greens

#Poem by +Gokul Alex

Poem Details | by Lewis Raynes |
Categories: appreciation, creation, farm, growth, imagery, love, spring,

Tonight I farm

Tonight I farm,
Four seasons to nurture in one.
Animals are asleep, equipment in the shed,
All gates are locked and done.

The land needs stripping of weeds,
All slopes and valleys are clear.
Trees from the highest hill
From the ground they grow and appear.

A scent, a good year, the glen is rich.
I perspire, am hot and dry
Leaning forward I sip from the oasis before me
The world moves it seems and I sigh.

My body tills, ploughs, rips and scours
And there’s hours of moans, oh the noise.
Finally millions of seeds are sown in rows
Now to rest, this warn out boy.

Poem Details | by Gerald Dillenbeck |
Categories: farm, fear, home, love, nature, philosophy, science,

Life's Midway Ride

Our body is only a cloak;
seek the one who has dressed you,
heed not the dress.
Midway means nothing to infinity.

When totally immersed in pursuits that you love,
illness and pain won't distract you.
Midway means nothing to infinity.

I wonder why when a bird 
clearly sees the trap laid out for her,
she's still drawn to fly straight in!
Midway means nothing to infinity.
Rumi (M Mafi translation)

Midway means everything present to binomial time,
captured between a polynomial past and  not-so-unpredictably resolving,
resonantly revolutionary,
mutually redemptive (co-arising) future,
where science religions polycultural metrics of infinitely wise and lovely bodies
discovering Interior Landscape's analogical ecology of evolution vrevolution,
competitive Yang vcooperative YinYin,
diastatically co-arising compost 
mirroring and absorbing Earth's nutrient streams and flows,
functions and (0)-core frequencies 
of energy as life,
development within design,
decomposition implying regenesis,
organically fertile farming
Prime Relationships of loving peace-filled fairness
in and among Beloved Climax Communities.

Space means nothing to Time, as
Midway means nothing to Infinity,
half of timelessness means nothing to eternity,
as Midway equals Polynomial +Left-Deductive
reiteratively dancing with(-)(-)Polynomial (-)Right-Inductive,
as Yang-convex + Yin-concave = [(0)logic Tao]
balances Infinity's Prime Relationship
between Here and Now  cooperative economic ecologic,
meeting Economic Design CQI,
Globally Synergetic Optimization,
Natural System Development Standards
of ecotherapeutic orthopraxis
thermodynamic balance
and electromagnetic 4-equivalent dimensional spacetime Commons function.

Adults grow from children
deep learning prime relationship
between isolating comedic ridicule
and mutually humored information
emerging from both self and other,
confluently sometimes,
while other times only through sustained cognitive dissonance,
hard birthing events,
yet both confluent Yang/Yin harmony
and dissonant Yang-dominance
unveil redemptive merit
for polyparadigmatic comprehension of other complex
discontented love relationships.

Shared joy and beauty and goodness and wisdom
multisystemically regenerate
when polyculturally analyzed and decomposed
discussed and discerned
remembered and reconnected and religioned
reflected and redeemed
with karmic grace intent,
grateful noticing as-is here and now,
cooperatively redemptive practice,
mutually mentoring synergetic design,
incarnating Bodhisattva Messiahs and Prophets,
Teachers who are first EcoTherapeutic Listeners,
thus permaculturing orthopraxisizers.

Zero Space is Infinite Time
at Her best
wisely resonant Beauty
YangBeing what we are YinBecoming-Balanced
diastatically enculturing internal Climax Communities,
both YangJustStrength and YinOrganicBeauty EcoTherapists
enjoying our ride,
avoiding "I am Ego-Special" feelings
if only because catastrophic paranoia and megalomania both grow contagiously sad and angry,
co-falling dusk 
returning to a self-regenerating dream of
Beloved Community Teleology and Orthopraxis
of active peace absorbing issues of lack-of-time fears
such as mortality and death and climatic survival
as something darker than a shadow chasing Infinite Light
and Midway as something other than this revolving ride between
our SuperEco One,
our Love,
our Contentment,
our being and belonging
where Here greets Now greets Here
eternal cooperative economic ecotherapeutic information
redundantly  and inclusively unfolding
binomial/binary un-double-knotting systemic QBit string
of prime fractal-tel-ec(o)metric Beloved Community.

Midway is nothing to Infinity
as (-)(-) balancing information-bits grow everytimely
ecotherapeutic (+) prime Eulerian relationship function,
(0) Core Vector/Vortex Fullerian crystal-fractal spacetime.

Id is nothing to SuperEco
as ego-centrism confluently optimizes resonance
with Right-brained eco-natural systemic encoded DNA/RNA
SuperEco Metric Regenerative Optimization Systems,
both thermodynamic and electromagnetic
co-arising gravity.

Here is nothing to Now
as Now is Comprehensive Co-incident Intelligence
regenerating SuperEco Tao as Western eco-logical Time.

Fear is nothing to Love
as Love loses everything to Fear of Time's Unresolved Absence,
as Absence of Fear encultures
Beloved Communities,
Exterior/Interior Prime (0)-sum Balancing Cooperative Landscapes.

Here means everything to Now
as Midway means nothing to Infinity
unfolding permaculturing past
enfolding polycultural future promise.

Poem Details | by Robert Lindley |
Categories: art, conflict, farm, growth, introspection, life, lost love, moon, nature, philosophy, symbolism, time,

A Night Walk, Nature Then Talks

A Night Walk, Nature Then Talks

Forgotten, my life,my dear sweet sorrows
images fading fast as deeper I invade.
Nature sings,cares not for our tomorrows
nor our vanities we so foolishly made!

Forrest path was wide and very well worn
I had walked hundreds of time before.
This night my mind and my heart both torn
my wife had just walked out the door!

My flashlight was not needed much at all
full moon spraying light on the ground.
I reflected back to our love and its fall
how love troubles follow me around!

Yet farther I went,calmer my soul became
mother Nature sensed my agonizing pain
She was assuring that she'd be the same
giving me a renewed spirit like rain!

I saw night creatures scurry all about
watching me with those glowing eyes.
My heart almost happily sang to leap out
beauty came and my mind felt the skies!

Starlight merged,shining moon cried aloud
trees then began to very softly speak
Starlit night-sky without a hiding cloud
warm tears were now wetting my cheeks!

Why O' why did my dear wife wish me to die
had not I bought her this sweet land.
Nature showed me lonely in the night sky
sometimes leaving is taking that stand!

Then an owl called out its lonesome hoot
there was healing in that great call.
Had I not my life and good health to boot
life again could be a dancing ball!

Nature moved me to settle this great hurt
to enjoy so deep the God gifted scenes.
Allow the heart to again dance and spurt
Grab onto hope by any and all means!

Forgotten, my life,my dear sweet sorrows
images fading fast as deeper I invade.
Nature sings,cares not for our tomorrows
nor our vanities we so foolishly made!

Returning now,down this old well worn path
stars and moon spraying ever brighter.
Gone were pains and my dark and evil wrath
heart and soul soothed and much lighter!

Sept,3rd 1975

Note-- Presenting this poem , a gem from my private
 journalForty years ago today! Written when I was
a healthy, robust young 21 years old and so full of
piss and vinegar.

Poem Details | by Jim Pemberton |
Categories: celebration, character, christian, dedication, devotion, faith, farm, freedom, god, hope, inspiration, inspirational, jesus, life, lonely, love, recovery from, relationship, religion, religious, spiritual, success, trust, uplifting,

God Gave Me A NEW LIfe

God Gave Me A NEW Life!

God reached down to my life 
and changed it!
His love touched my soul
 and I can claim it!

God brought to me peace,
 hope and care…
That I may share his goodness 
to people everywhere!

God brought to me the joy 
of his salvation!
And gave my life 
 complete satisfaction!

He’s given everything that I needed!
He gives the victory! 
I don’t have to be defeated!

He can do the same for you! 
 Won’t you accept him?
Just reach out to him now! 
 And believe him!

By Jim Pemberton    

Poem Details | by Mohammed Rakibul Hossain |
Categories: abuse, culture, day, death, family, farm, lost love,

He was the one to stop me

Long time in the agricultural field , working under the rising sun ,
counting the amount of time , to lead a lax time with my wife and son ,
the time never came , but I passed a dozen of month ,
where my master stopped me , leering at me like a beast of hunt

I heard the legato of my wife - flowing with the midnight winds ,   
working continuously with no rest , logging all the work of my master -    who is malign ,
he - such a maniac , who stopped me from having sufficient food ,
coming from the dark lands of Mombasa ,  never came to know their kind of manhood

Oh my dearest wife and son , I wish you knew the worst state of mine ,
I cried and prayed to my almighty Lord , - "When would I get rid of this worst - twinge ! ,"
I cried and cried till it became dawn , where the soil cried too - for thirst on and on ,
my eyes began remembering of the majestic "Magpie" , crying for nights in the native land of mine

I kept on thinking for you my love , but my sinew grew weedy and  frail ,
never think for your frailty , for I have left you with nothing - but personality ,
the world is a stage which is too callous , no place for us , but only  devilry ,
  say no to your failure , keep inviting your success - for there is no time for me to exhale

Now, there is no time for me to seek success , for my body is completely useless ,
I have no pain, no fear, no joy , for I have left the stage fearless ,
I defeated my fiendish owner ,who kept me far from my wife and son ,
that comes the end of my life , the setting period of my sun..

Poem Details | by Roderick Molasar |
Categories: animal, child, cute love, farm, kids, kid, silly,

Kids Get My Goat

I recently visited an animal farm
Accompanied by my favorite school marm.
She said that the antics were fun to behold
Of creatures that acted outrageous and bold.

Well, I didn't believe her when first we arrived
'Cause all that I saw were empty beehives.
But then as our journey progressed up the path
What should I see but a pig in a bath.

But after an oink and a grunt and a squeal
I saw something yonder with yet more appeal.
There in the enclosure, as small as could be
A cute baby goat was looking at me.

I fed him some hay and patted his head
While Mother sat watching from her cozy bed.
But then he did something decidedly queer
By making some noises so eerie to hear.

He did it by using his mouth and his tongue
And also employing a throat and a lung.
He switched back and forth from the 1st to the 2nd
Attempting, you see, the white nanny to beckon.
The she-goat, however, was happy to stay
Right there where she so very languidly lay.

The baby persisted in making a razz
And then a "baa-baa", and all of that jazz.
No human could spit out a better Bronx Cheer,
No child cry "bottle" as to so endear.

I split my side laughing so hard at this act
It felt like a hernia, and that is a fact.
I've been back there often, but alas I have never
Been able to see something nearly as clever.

Poem Details | by Gerald Dillenbeck |
Categories: depression, family, farm, health, loss, love,

Making Hay

Make hay while the sun shines.

I grew up as a closeted polypathic nature-mystic
on a marginal, at best, family farm
in Michigan.

This farm was my embryonic home,
an extension of my vastly loved and nurturing Mother,
more than my workaholic homophobic Father,
who most emphatically did create a patriarchal god in his own image.
His farm was for slave labor.
Her farm was a garden for growing healthy wealth.

I loved Mom's Multi-ReGenerational Family Farm
like an extension of my ego's mind and body.

And, like a turtle without a shell,
when I first headed off to Ann Arbor's University
I brought my happy and healthy ego with me,
eager to begin my new adventure story,
yet I emotionally stumbled,
felt naked and exposed and depressed,
for lack of my embryonic habitus,
my eco-center,
my home,
my interdependently embracing love of sacred spaces
and their seasons of regeneration and degeneration,
growing still and fading without ego me

I was homesick,
but not for Nurturing Nanny
and Fearsome Father
or even Perfect Princess Sister, whom I cherished,
whom I could talk and listen with as whim might invite,
and, although somewhat more of a sore detachment from our farmhouse interior spaces,
my disorienting alienation from Ann Arbor
was as a too-urban outside place
just as my recreating resident embrace
favored my dorm and classroom youth-learning multicultural race
against more oppressive monoculturing times.

To this day,
despite a six week backpacking hike
along California's Pacific Coast Trail,
plundered by surreal vistas and fragrance and light and unspeakable beauty,
when I imagine a meadow, a field, a woodland,
a pond,
a barn,
an unpaved road,
a gravel drive,
a herd of cattle,
a pen of pigs,
a coop of chickens,
a litter of kittens with eyes still sealed shut,
I recall iconic scenes from this sacred originating home,
my eco-memory
calling my doubly-bound ego-enculturing self
back home
to where we permaculturally began together,
making hay while the sun did shine.

Poem Details | by Gerald Dillenbeck |
Categories: anger, community, destiny, dream, humor, love, nature,

Buying the Farm

Have you chosen what you will become,
my son,
or will you become something yet unchosen?


How will you keep yourself gainfully occupied,
dare I speak of vocation?

Oh yes,
I will be absent.

Absent from…?

From you.
Absent from you.

My wisest son,
thank you for your perfect gift of omission,
and yet your future commissions
provoke my valiant interest now.

You are more curious
than absence would allow.

And you less curious
than vocations would avow.

Not true.
You rush to judge rashly
evidence only future time could carry.
I would become absent from inside voices,
those demanding I use mine,
closing minds to outside voices
ignoring body needs for outdoor vocal crimes
of raucous laughter,
shouting at echoing self-greetings
to outside experts too busy writing their competitions
to read my mutually polypathic cooperations.

Would it kill you,
wisest son,
instead of flaunting absence from inside voices
to market sacred presence speaking outside voices?

It might,
yet here lies opportunity
for graceful great transitions.

Ah yes,
transitions toward whom doing what
and why,
these are my tired questions.
So what are these golden opportunities
with minimal risk of becoming fleeced,
naked with loss,
intimately vulnerable to cold dark death?

I could not know of transition without risk of loss
yet comprehend this time
discerning how to find our co-opportunities
as EarthTribe MultiCulture Revolutionaries
(0)-Interest Bodhisattva Economic PlaceHolders
Beloved Community Occupiers
Earth CoOperative ReGenerators.

Each new morning brings great transition opportunity,
alternatively and coincidentally firing fueled anger and fear
or floating love and contentment,
but usual busyness a hybrid of
Yang+ and dualdark yinyin’s transparentcy
wu wei
interior mindbody Right Elder integrity-elational
nondual co-arising dipolar LeftRight correlational
AnthroCentric CoPresent Holonic Empathy—
DNA/RNA root  fractal-familiar ecosystemic,
seasonal issues and regenerative tissues.

Where is your risk of loss
within this nondual bicameral landscape?

Loss comes through my over-active AnthroEgo,
dominating elitism of LeftBrain addictions
to commodification without concomitant nutrient value,
to deduction without bilateral inductive trusting balance,
averse to reducing competitive edge
without cooperative expansion of collateral health,
hypnotized by policies and procedures devoid of nutritious vtoxic beliefs,
severing the value of mindful communication from healthy vpathological
political and economic experience 
of relationship investments within RealTime.

Your healthy future is your daily great transitional choice,
your Ego AND EarthTribe optimizing healthy future
emerges a more cooperative plan,
like uracil with cytosine.

What if I choose to play games for a few decades?

Commit to cooperative team building games
and play with resource ownership variables
as influenced by poli-ecological WinWin Gaming assumptions.
Find ways to heal air and water and soil.
Explore ways to rehydrate Earth
and slow down our AnthroLeft dominant acceleration.
Invest in healthy slow dense polycultural growth
for stronger therapeutic polypathic outcomes.

Sounds more like your organic farm-therapy community dream.
I suppose that could be one way to play WinWin.
But, not mine.

Poem Details | by clark emery |
Categories: love,

Night sky at the farm

On seeing the night sky at the farm, Sunday, 10 May 2015

A myriad lights in the sky, tis yours
that brightest shines Not a star but Venus,
goddess of love that beckons me to shore,
to weigh anchor and share love that’s ‘tween us.
And as thy light moves across heavens’ sea
my heart doth follow even through gales of
life, for nothing parteth my heart from thee.
Thou descendest upon me like a dove,
that bird of peace, of hope, of promise kept.
Take winged flight and I with you shall soar
to a land where all true lovers have slept,
where time stands still and seems to be no more.
If in course the glory of thy light fade
I still will love you, for me you were made.

Poem Details | by Tom Forke |
Categories: earth, farm, happiness, joy, love, seasons, work,

the sower

Arnold gazed eastward,
His callused hands hung
by thumbs hooked to
his beltHe had beaten
the rooster by at least
an hour, and his hands
lit a pipe in
A cool breeze 
passed through, teasing
the plowed field,
the chimes,
and his arms.
The barn stood sturdy, 
ready for the season.
Seasoned tools hung on the 
new wallsThe screen door 
behind him swung and
she stood next to 
him on the porch, his 
hand stroked her back.
She looked at him, he
peered eastward, a subtle
smile concealing a laugh,
“It’s going to be a good year.”

Poem Details | by Mohamed Manzur Bah |
Categories: depression, emotions, fairy, farm, loneliness, love, love hurts,

Music from the stream

I make so many opportunities to optimistic to  
Know why the stream of heart is so lonely, firstly I realized it loneliness during my busy time around the corner of the stream.
Nothing is there except the thump of my stream of thinking wishing to wash in river Nile.
The music is so exciting but there is no one to dance to it, all the time I keep on asking myself solid question soda thinking pang of want circulating in me to the river of Myanmar.
I keep on pondering and asking why the stream keeps on playing music, at that time nature explains in my ears that the music is for the animals and the people to the palm tree.
Since my village has no music the lovers take their girlfriends to listen to the melodious music played by the stream.
Through these activities the stream gets company whether you like to have fun as you get there you will hear the music.
Further this is sufficient to explain that the music is all around just to ready for the music.

Poem Details | by Sara Kendrick |
Categories: husband, life, love, wifeclothes, farm,

Two Peas In A Pod

He was country the farm truck type 
Loved animals I'll give you no hype
She loved frilly clothes dressed just right
Loved classical music, opera, and seeing sights

Loved animals I'll give you no hype
She was vey feminine loved lace with all her might
Loved classical music, opera, and seeing sights
How could they become two peas in a pod

She was very feminine loved lace with all her might
She loved frilly clothes dressed just right
How could they become two peas in a pod
He was country the farm truck type

Poem Details | by matthew harris |
Categories: animal, beautiful, creation, cute love, farm, fish, friendship,

Prince Of A Cat - Ninth Life Long Since Spent

Preface to this brief bitty
written snap ting snapshot – word ditty
dates back before I reached gritty
age of eight and fifty, aye recall a kitty
rescued by my youngest sister, who took pity
and felt aghast, 
at a potential cruel fate no witty.

Upon return home from an Antioch College coup
(so many diverse work experiences required -
some involving offal goop
i.ecase in point being this anecdote,
which may fall outside the loop
of common “hands on

off fish shawl” employment,
thee tasks on par with handling poop
stoically accepted by Shari Todd
(name of said sibling),
who when home from Davis, California

(albeit temporarily, and before she returned
to Yellow Springs, Ohio) divulged
how she did scoop
dread, dreck, dregs, et, cetera –

i.eby product amidst fish farm
didst set her dead against being linkedin
purr animal cruelty, thus play role of troop
er – which tummy
earned her kudos a resounding whoop!
* * * * * * * * * * *
Before launching into this poem purr say
lemme mention how thine late mother
took an immediate affinity and hence no delay
that this lucky creature became akin to a bebe.

Main Coon, Felis catus, nicknamed Boozie
raccoon features, face mask, brown thick costume
handsome boy, affectionate personality, expressively vocal

Pink wet nose, emerald eyes, pointed ears
cavernous mouth, sharp teeth, rough tongue
striped design, massive fluffy fur, bushy tail

Soft paws, padded cushions, retractable blades
wild animal, predation urge, survival instinct
agile movement, swift motion, unfortunate victim

Door prize, flies feast, whitened bones
loyalty strong, pageant display,
splayed across kitchen table courtly dignity

Quiet house, sonar sounded, Cheshire upward smile
purred softly, rubbed legs, warm vacant lap
Jumping agility, firmly sequestered

Contentment expressed, internal hum, reciprocal therapy
beautiful petsmart, little monkey, comfortably sleeps
peaceful slumber, wakeful stretch, ideal life

Fortunate intervention, cat whisker to demise,
brush avoided becoming piscine meal,
kingly privileged role, heartfelt love.

Poem Details | by Alexis Y. |
Categories: farm, for him, humorous, love,


I was so bent on finding my Prince charming,
that I took a class on agriculture and farming.

Had to have hands on training and milk a cow,
but there was no one in sight to show me how.

I got all A’s in the class portion, so I said I got this
that darn cow was so mean and just would resist.

The milk went everywhere but into the pail,
so I just sat there and I would scream and yell.

While me and the cow was fussin, I heard a laugh,
I just had to know who made fun of my new craft.

I looked up and saw the most handsome man,
He said” Mscan I help you my name is Stan.

I forgot who I was for second let alone a cow,
“come over here I’d be happy to show you how.

Stan and I have been together every since that day,
all because I took up farming and my Prince came my way.

Alexis Y

Poem Details | by Rick Parise |
Categories: family, farm, grandfather, love, memory, nature,

A Songbird Climbs

In breaths of morning dawn the generations before would drift through my mindA legacy of gold and silver in depths of the dawning rise and in a picture book of vivid yesteryears I would climbFrom the feathered pillow to the creaking oak floor, across the hall to the kitchen where the steamy coffee I would pourDrowning in my coffee gaze a sweet reflection of Grandpa's face, deep beneath the creamy clouds with one raised brow, hair silver brown.

through the aged window
upon the swaying wheat field
a songbird climbs