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Caligula
I put on my ugly face
to the multitude
my last act
conveniently mad
like the violence of a crow
come to poke at the people
standing in their fixed
and different pastures
Poems on the topic: pasture
Poems on the topic “pasture” on Poets.by.
Cow Heaven
i pass a black glove stuck
to a white oak beside the trail
and soon i am seeing trees with faces
pot-bellied old maples
great buttressed oaks
limbs spreading in all directions
spared for the shade
they once gave livestock
now filling in fast
with pole timber
and a blue-green haze
of little white pines coming up
an old pasture slowly climbing
toward the bovine clouds
The Grazing Cows
the grazing cows
even more content
summer rain
The Pasture
I’m going out to clean the pasture spring;
I’ll only stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I sha’n’t be gone long.--You come too.
I’m going out to fetch the little calf
That’s standing by the mother. It’s so young,
It totters when she licks it with her tongue.
I sha’n’t be gone long.--You come too.
Of Country Folk in August
Whenever we worked at the creekside shed
there was always something else to do
such times as we were stumped, or nails ran short,
or the sun reached round the fir and baked us down
from raftering, roofing, or the like. We leaned,
gossip-like, against the fresh framing
of the walls, sipping solar tea,
watching the edge of a cloud's long skirt
chase the neighbors' horses leisurely
across their pasture, down the camas swale
and up the other side, against the black contrast
of maple-shrouded hills. The horses liked
to amble up to our corner, stand and watch.
We couldn't cure them of the shies,
though we might try with handfuls
of our green grass, or a few choice
Dillard Sissman
The buzzards wheel slowly
In wide circles, in a sky
Faintly hazed as from dust from the road.
And a wind sweeps through the pasture where I lie
Beating the grass into long waves.
My kite is above the wind,
Though now and then it wobbles,
Like a man shaking his shoulders;
And the tail streams out momentarily,
Then sinks to rest.
And the buzzards wheel and wheel,
Sweeping the zenith with wide circles
Above my kite. And the hills sleep.
And a farm house, white as snow,
Peeps from green trees—far away.
And I watch my kite,
The Sun Waters the Pastures of Heaven
The sun waters the pastures of heaven
With warm rains of light;
For the golden-lambkins to graze . .
The star-flocks of night.
Trees and Horses
Trees stand motionless among themselves,
Some are solitary.
Horses wander over wide pastures;
At night they herd closely,
Rumps hunched to the wind.
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