khamush.com Lifestyle | Motivation | Poems
Cows are one of the most familiar and beloved farm animals, and they have inspired poets for centuries.
These gentle and docile creatures, with their big brown eyes and soft mooing, have captured the imagination of poets with their charm and simplicity.
Cow poems range from funny and lighthearted to serious and introspective, and they offer a unique perspective on these animals and their role in our lives.
Whether you’re a child or an adult, these poems about cows are sure to entertain and inspire you.
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Funny Cow Poems
These interesting poems about cows are sure to make you chuckle with their witty and humorous takes on cow life.
1. Daisy the Red Nosed Cow
by Gary Wayne Hill
This is the story of how Daisy the cow
Became one of Santa’s reindeer
Poor Rudolph was down with a touch of the flu
So Santa said “Daisy, come here”
“I’ll put a splash of red paint at the end of your snout
And for one night you’ll be able to fly”
And sure enough, with a glowing red nose
Daisy shot into the sky
Santa made some antlers from branches
From a nearby fallen dead tree
“Well now Daisy, you’ve come up a treat,
No one will notice the difference” said he
Daisy was ever so nervous
At how the night ahead just might go
Especially as the weather took a turn for the worse
And started to heavily snow
But Daisy need not have worried
As the night built a head up of steam
Delivering gifts to boys and girls
The night flew by like a dream
That is when Daisy awoke
In her field, that is just by a stream
Daisy realized with a heavy heart
That it HAD all just been a dream
Come the time for milking
The farmer looked at Daisy and froze
“Daisy, what have you been up to?
Why have you got a red nose?”
Daisy of course did not answer
Inside she just secretly smiled
In the knowing she had played her part
By bringing happiness to every child
And off in the far off distance
She could hear some carolers singing
And now again she caught on the breeze
Santa’s sleigh bells a ringing
2. My Cow Bess
by Kenn Nesbitt
I’d like to introduce you to my cow.
Her name is Bess.
She has a special talent that
I know you’d never guess.
She’s fond of eating chocolate
which I feed her every day.
The chocolate makes her happy so
she starts to swing and sway.
She jiggles and she joggles.
She wiggles and she whirls.
She boogies and she bounces.
She taps and twists and twirls.
She shivers and she shudders.
She quivers and she quakes.
I feed her chocolate candy and
she gives me chocolate shakes.
3. Holy Cow
by Charles Messina
I went out hunting with my bow
One day in late September
It’s hard to recall all my trips
But this one I remember
Sitting on the ground
With my back against a tree
I sat myself near a path
Where I thought a deer might be
It was early in the morning
When I thought I’d seen a deer
When it started getting close to me
I saw it was a bear…Yikes!
He came as close as ten feet from me
And he looked me in the eye
I swear, I almost peed myself
As he was walking by He knew that
I was watching him He knew that
I was there But he just kept on walking by
I guess he just didn’t care
Then, early in the afternoon
I left to take a break
But I had to wait a few more minutes
Because I came upon a snake
The snake had rattled once or twice
And then he hissed at me
I stayed there frozen in my tracks
Just as quiet as can be
I saw a bunch of deer that day
But, I never drew my bow
I then saw something unusual
When It was time to go
Coming out from behind a bush
And running after me
Was a cow that was not nice?
As he chased me up a tree
I waited for the sun to settle
Then I ran back to my car
After all that, I needed a drink
So, I stopped at the first bar.
4. Cow Patty
by Roger Turner
She was faster than a rattlesnake
She could split a log in two
She was better than any hand
I think I ever knew
She was famous all throughout the west
But, it really was a shame
She wasn’t known for what she did
She was famous for her name
She could rope and shoot and ride
Better ‘n any man I know
But laugh at this girl’s name
And she’d hog tie you for show
Christened Patricia Bollinger
From Baltimore she came
She didn’t like the term cow girl So,
Cow Patty was her name
5. Lazy Cow
by Dr. James E. Martin
The cow loved to chew her cud
As she lay in the cooling mud.
She was lazy you see,
As lazy as could be,
Some would even say she was a dud.
6. Lovely Cow
by Barik
“O” lovely cow, why low and roar,
relish with lots of grass and fodder.
Alas alas, her milk is stolen,
from mouth of hungry calf,
her tears has withered away,
it’s a daily affair
“O” cute goat, why bleat and weep,
garlanded you and taking for worship.
Alas alas, she will be beheaded,
immolate her to God,
leaving behind orphan kid,
bowing head to fate..
“O” pretty mother, why do you moan,
son has gifted you a beautiful mansion.
Alas alas, she is left alone,
son with beg and baggage left for foreign,
whom she will feed sweat and mutton,
who will stand by life’s last session,
wipe out tear of bereaved mother,
who will lit the funeral pyre.
7. Cow From Tokyo
by Spandan Karmakar
No cow, no milk
No milk now,
I will go,
My mom will go
To bring our cow
From Tokyo.
8. The Old Cow
by Chrisky
An old cow,
Strolled across the pasture field,
As she came to a patch of grass
She stopped to ponder.
Shall I shit here and eat,
Or should I eat here and shit.
Should I sleep here and piss,
Or piss here and sleep.
That grass sure is green,
Should I take it now?
Or save it for tomorrow.
It’s so close to the fence,
And that fence is full of fire.
If I turn this way,
The fence will get my tail.
And if I turn that way,
My tail will get the fence.
Should I grab a bit and run,
Or should I run a bit and grab.
Oh lightning storm,
If only you could strike that box by the pole,
I could eat my fill and shit here still
And just let everything go.
9. The Cow Shed Dance
by Martin
Plenty cow pats coming your way!
Time to dance this day!
A fine Somerset day.
Foxy slept in the hay!
A pitchfork nearly spoiled his day!
In the bum he sang ooh arggh ohh r yay.
The cider farmer sang get picking the apples we got cider to make.
Then pork pies and scratchings may get bake.
As The Wurzels sang from the cowshed smell the CH4 methane.
The cheesy smell got wafted again.
They were cider makers not very much charm!
But a drop o moonshine may not do much harm.
Foxy picked apples all day.
No chickens came his way!
The cows danced a treat.
Foxy thought they got plenty meat!
Clover like feet!
A drop o milk tasted sweet!
10. The Nincompoop Cow
by Anonymous
A powerful ruby red tractor,
driven by a cow – a theater actor,
the dream machine fit for Gromit,
made the cow quickly vomit,
the accelerator pedal, was the main factor!
Inspirational Cow Poems
These inspirational poems about cows offer a new perspective on life, using the gentle cow as a source of inspiration and hope.
1. A Sonnet
by Tudor Idris Lewis
The wide expance of fields–bovine Eden
Landscape off my moo, moo dreams calls to me
Thoughts of childhood cows gets my heart bleedin’
I wnat to graze the sky so set me free.
The Cow God looms in prophetic vision
Mooing of life, of death, of fields to come
Moment of bovine, heavenly fission;
Moo, moo parts will not equal moo, moo sum.
I am a child who yearns to graze with cows,
I am a man who seeks to herd with love
While Farmer Death prepares, readies his plows
To churn another plot, ‘neath sun above.
We graze, he churns, but soon he’ll get to us
To squeeze our milk or squeeze our very life.
2. Let Me be Your Bovine Mistress
by Anonymous
Here I am, mooing for you
Lookee here, lookee now
I am lovely fat Daisy
Daisy the fucking fat cow.
I am a right bovine beauty
Mooing and cud-chewing
Standing in a rainy field
And the rest of the time I am pooh-ing.
I have bloated belly and
The farmer takes my pints of milk
With sucker-pads on my tits
Scratching my poor nipples of silk.
Take me out of this field, someone,
Can’t you recognise a girl with class?
And if you’re bullish and butch
You can fuck me in the ass
3. Concerning Bob the Bull
by Hans Ostrom
I’m feeding sweet green clover
to a black and white bull
under powder blue sky. Through
silver fencing, I poke the offering,
a gesture of friendship to Bob
the bull, bedeviled by black flies
and close farm heat. Bob stares
and sniffs. Leans into me, almost
breaks my hand–a gesture
of friendship. I talk, he listens.
He snorts, sucks cud, and grunts.
I listen. I poke more green past
that glue-thick slobber on his black
lips, past his keyboard of square
ivory teeth and onto a pale pink
slab of tongue. Bob accepts
the clover without chewing.
He has a lot going on.
His patience in the midst
of fly-swarms and de-horning
outstrips Zen perfection. I tell
Bob of his greatness. Mourn
with him his lack of cow
companionship. His mucous
drips like icicle melt. We’ll not
meet again–a scheduling thing.
I feel a sadness as sweet as
Bob’s inner pools of cud.
How fine it would be one day
to hear Bob’s story from Bob.
4. Amazing Astro Cow
by J.R.W.
I have to write a poem
but I really don’t know how.
So maybe I’ll just make a rhyme
with something funny, like “cow.”
Okay, I’ll write about a cow,
but that’s so commonplace.
I think I’ll have to make her be…
a cow from outer space!
My cow will need a helmet
and a space suit and a ship.
Of course, she’ll keep a blaster
in the holster on her hip.
She’ll hurtle through the galaxy
on meteoric flights
to battle monkey aliens
in huge karate fights.
She’ll duel with laser sabers
while avoiding lava spray
to vanquish evil emperors
and always save the day.
I hope the teacher likes my tale,
“Amazing Astro Cow.”
Yes, that’s the poem I will write
as soon as I learn how.
5. The Old Brindle Cow
by Thomas O Hagan
OF all old memories that cluster round my heart,
With their root in my boyhood days,
The quaintest is linked to the old brindle cow
With sly and mysterious ways.
She’d linger round the lot near the old potato patch,
A sentinel by night and by day,
Watching for the hour when all eyes were asleep,
To start on her predatory way.
The old brush fence she would scorn in her course,
With turnips and cabbage just beyond,
And corn that was blooming through the halo of the night–
What a banquet so choice and so fond!
But when the stars of morn were paling in the sky
The old brindle cow would take the cue,
And dressing up her line she’d retreat beyond the fence,
For the old cow knew just what to do.
What breed did you say? Why the very best blood
That could flow in a democratic cow;
No herd-book could tell of the glory in her horns
Or whence came her pedigree or how:
She was Jersey in her milk and Durham in her build,
And Ayrshire when she happened in a row,
But when it came to storming the old ‘slash’ fence
She was simply the old brindle cow.
It seems but a day since I drove her to the gate
To yield up her rich and creamy prize;
For her theft at midnight hour she would yield a double dower,
With peace of conscience lurking in her eyes.
But she’s gone–disappeared with the ripened years of time,
Whose memories my heart enthrall e’en now;
And I never hear a bell tinkling through the forest dell
But I think of that old brindle cow.
6. The Big Fat Cow
by Anonymous
Here comes a big fat cow
Im getting ready to sit in my chair and milk it
but look at those tits, WOW!
We will have enough milk for a while,
I Put my sweet hands down there
but this cow doesn’t like it, it’s getting wild
so I better stop it for now.
Getting ready again
put my sleeves up,
put my hands again and start to milk it
Oh my god, too much milk! I need another cup
Help………
I’m finished
I let the cow go away
we both walk on a different way
the cow hates me for what I did
but what the hell!that cow I feed
the time will come again
and the story will repeat
just have to wait at least for one tit
to get full of milk………..end
7. If I Were a Cow…
by Anonymous
If I were a cow, then what would I be?
Why I’d be a cow, what else would I be?
I’d eat grass and laugh, and play all day.
I’d jump up and around and roll in the hay.
Then when the sun is starting to set,
The dirty ol’ farmer would come after me I bet.
He’d grab on my utter and give it a squeeze.
And then he’d just leave, that dirty ol’ tease.
For his coffee in the morning, he’d milk me dry,
Without even a thank you, that horrible guy.
But I wouldn’t mind, I wouldn’t mind one bit,
Because that’s the life of a cow, and I’m stuck with it.
8. I’m a Lazy Cow
by Nan
These humans have no idea, why I’m the lazy cow who hates to get dressed.
Rollers in my hair really a girl must have her curls.
Finest pure silk dressing gown hugs my bovine curves.
Upon my hooves fluffy slippers, rosy pink to match my cheeks and lipstick.
False eye lashes to accelerate my beautiful eyes.
Look into them they will hypnotise.
I’m telling you girls there’s no bull good enough for me.
Why because I’m a cow with attitude.
Children past me by saying l look cute even take selfie’s of me.
Well what can l say a girls got to do what a girls do.
But if you guess my name you might hear me moo.
Well it’s not buttercup or Daisy or Mary Lou ok I’ll tell you.
It’s Princess Diva; “How do you moo.”
9. Dead Cow Farm
by Robert Graves
An ancient saga tells us how
In the beginning the First Cow
(For nothing living yet had birth
But Elemental Cow on earth)
Began to lick cold stones and mud:
Under her warm tongue flesh and blood
Blossomed, a miracle to believe:
And so was Adam born, and Eve.
Here now is chaos once again,
Primeval mud, cold stones and rain.
Here flesh decays and blood drips red,
And the Cow’s dead, the old Cow’s dead.
10. Surprise
by Ted Hughes
Looking at cows in their high-roofy roomy
Windy home, mid-afternoon idling,
Late winter, near spring, the fields not greening,
The wind North-East and sickening, the hay
Shrinking, the year growing. The parapets
Of toppled hay, the broken walls of hay,
The debris of hay. The peace of cattle
Mid-afternoon, cud-munching, eyelids lowered.
The deep platform of dung. Looking at cows
Sharing their trance, it was an anomalous
Blue plastic apron I noticed
Hitched under the tail of one cow
That went on munching, with angling ears. A glistening
Hanging sheet of blue-black. I thought
Of aprons over ewes’ back-ends
To keep the ram out till it’s timely. I thought
Of surgical aprons to keep cleanliness
Under the shit-fall. Crazily far thoughts
Proposed themselves as natural, and I almost
Looked away. Suddenly
The apron slithered, and a whole calf’s
Buttocks and hind-legs—whose head and forefeet
Had been hidden from me by another cow—
Toppled out of its mother, and collapsed on the ground.
Leisurely, as she might be leisurely curious,
She turned, pulling her streamers of blood-tissue
Away from this lumpish jetsam. She nosed it
Where it lay like a still-birth in its tissues.
She began to nibble and lick. The jelly
Shook its head and nosed the air. She gave it
the short small swallowed moo-grunts hungry cows
Give when they stand suddenly among plenty.
11. Happy Cow
by Griswold
I got the pick-em-up truck, she got the kids,
I got an apartment, she kept the house.
I got visitation rights to our old dog,
can’t get within 500 feet of my ex-spouse.
Now I aint really complaining,
cause she had a peculiar smell.
The stuff she tried to cook,
put my poor bowels thru hell.
All those hairs,
that grew from her chin.
Don’t miss em at all,
nor her breath full of gin.
I will miss her smile,
so pretty and cute.
Gazing adoringly,
at her last tooth.
And the one eye,
that always looks to the left.
I’m kinda getting misty,
feeling a little bereft.
Oh well, that’s what I get,
for getting caught with that cow.
My Mama always said,
I’d lose her somehow.
Famous Cow Poems
These famous poems about cows have been beloved for generations. It’s time for you to discover them now! Let’s moo!
1. When Milking-Time is Done
by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
When milking-time is done, and over all
This quiet Canadian inland forest home
And wide rough pasture-lots the shadows come,
And dews, with peace and twilight voices, fall,
From moss-cooled watering-trough to foddered stall
The tired plough-horses turn,—the barnyard loam
Soft to their feet,—and in the sky’s pale dome
Like resonant chords the swooping night-jars call.
The frogs, cool-fluting ministers of dream,
Make shrill the slow brook’s borders; pasture bars
Down clatter, and the cattle wander through,—
Vague shapes amid the thickets; gleam by gleam
Above the wet grey wilds emerge the stars,
And through the dusk the farmstead fades from view.
2. Bringing Home the Cows
by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
When potatoes were in blossom,
When the new hay filled the mows,
Sweet the paths we trod together,
Bringing home the cows.
What a purple kissed the pasture,
Kissed and blessed the alder-boughs,
As we wandered slow at sundown,
Bringing home the cows!
How the far-off hills were gilded
With the light that dream allows.
As we built our hopes beyond them,
Bringing home the cows!
How our eyes were bright with visions,
What a meaning wreathed our brows,
As we watched the cranes, and lingered,
Bringing home the cows!
Past the years, and through the distance,
Throbs the memory of our vows.
Oh, that we again were children,
Bringing home the cows!
3. The Cow Pasture
by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
I see the harsh, wind-ridden, eastward hill,
By the red cattle pastured, blanched with dew;
The small, mossed hillocks where the clay gets through;
The grey webs woven on milkweed tops at will.
The sparse, pale grasses flicker, and are still.
The empty flats yearn seaward. All the view
Is naked to the horizon’s utmost blue;
And the bleak spaces stir me with strange thrill.
Not in perfection dwells the subtler power
To pierce our mean content, but rather works
Through incompletion, and the need that irks, —
Not in the flower, but effort toward the flower.
When the want stirs, when the soul’s cravings urge,
The strong earth strengthens, and the clean heavens purge.
4. Where the Cattle Come to Drink
by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
At evening, where the cattle come to drink,
Cool are the long marsh-grasses, dewy cool
The alder thickets, and the shallow pool,
And the brown clay about the trodden brink.
The pensive afterthoughts of sundown sink
Over the patient acres given to peace;
The homely cries and farmstead noises cease,
And the worn day relaxes, link by link.
A lesson that the open heart may read
Breathes in this mild benignity of air,
These dear, familiar savours of the soil,—
A lesson of the calm of humble creed,
The simple dignity of common toil,
And the plain wisdom of unspoken prayer.
5. The Cow Speaks to The Child
by Evan Gill Smith
There’s no me without you,
says the cow in the sunlight
being looked at, being drawn
by the child with crayons.
Is the hill an almond? the child
wants to know. Is life irrefutable?
The start of ‘me’ is the start of
the ending of ‘you.’ See that hole
in your sock where
the cold can get through?
The child’s toe sticks
through the hole now.
Some philosophers grow ulcers
from eating loneliness.
There’s not much we know.
The cow’s tongue smacks its lips.
The child fills in its spots
with blue crayon and silence.
A dragonfly or not.
6. Cows
by Deena Metzger
After seven lean years
we are promised seven fat ones,
if the cows do not die first.
Some care must be taken
to prevent their demise
in the scrub
or the slaughterhouse.
There must be enough bones
to throw and to bury.
The skull of a cow,
I put it on.
There are many strewn in the field,
there has not been much rain.
I look through the eyes,
that is, my eyes replace the eyes
that death has taken.
I can see out or through.
It is not a bad fate
to be a cow,
to be, at once,
so awkward,
so full of grace,
so full of milk.
Everywhere the udders are full,
the teats are ready,
the mouth of the calf is soft and deep.
I would thrust my hand in it
for the wet joy of being so used.
My own breasts are marked
from the time the milk came in too fast;
I did not have time to grow
to the moment of giving.
It is fitting
that beauty
leaves such scars.
Milk has passed through my fingers,
has spurted through my fingers,
but not once
during these seven lean years.
7. Cow Song
by Elena Karina Byrne
I heard them, far-off, deep calling
from behind death’s invisible floor door. Their wallow
metronome from the after-rain mud was one giant body.
Arizona’s yellow arm’s length of light all the way
to my own body standing at the edge of their field held
me. I moved toward them and them toward me, as if to ask
for something from nothing, as memory does, each face
Dumb founded … dumb and found by
the timeframe of my own fear, surrounded at dusk.
There was a plastic grocery bag, its ghost body cornered
small against a tree, and there was a heavy smell.
Desolation is equal to contained energy now.
Their heavy bodies slow toward me, my own
slow inside their circle without kulning.
Kulning is a Swedish song for cows, not
a pillowcase pulled over the head. Here, the mountains could be seen
from far away. There’s an abandoned physics, a floor door,
my own head-call herding me, in-hearing nothing but them.
Bone for bone’s female indicates the inside
of the mouth when singing is grief alone and is curved.
You can’t stop shifting no matter how
slow. It sounds like confusion in one direction.
I wanted to tell you this in your absence. It sounds like the oak,
it sounds like the oak of floorboards in God’s head.
8. The Cows at Night
by Hayden Carruth
The moon was like a full cup tonight,
too heavy, and sank in the mist
soon after dark, leaving for light
Faint stars and the silver leaves
of milkweed beside the road,
gleaming before my car.
Yet I like driving at night
in summer and in Vermont:
the brown road through the mist
Of mountain-dark, among farms
so quiet, and the roadside willows
opening out where I saw
The cows. Always a shock
to remember them there, those
great breathings close in the dark.
I stopped, and took my flashlight
to the pasture fence. They turned
to me where they lay, sad
And beautiful faces in the dark,
and I counted them–forty
near and far in the pasture,
Turning to me, sad and beautiful
like girls very long ago
who were innocent, and sad
Because they were innocent,
and beautiful because they were
sad. I switched off my light.
But I did not want to go,
not yet, nor knew what to do
if I should stay, for how
In that great darkness could I explain
anything, anything at all.
I stood by the fence. And then
Very gently it began to rain.
9. The Stillness of the Cows
by Robert Etty
While summer’s delaying, they doze and graze,
ruminate over landscapes all day,
lie side by side and gaze across fields,
content (or a milk cow’s equivalent)
With sunshine, warm rain, the shade of a hedge
and acres of regrowing grass,
And then with silage and condensation
when bales and corrugated shed walls
Pen them in through the centrally heated months
that the farmhouse squares up to across the yard.
They quadruple-stomach everything
(though cowhands may beg to differ),
Seem to know what it is to be cows
in a field in a universe,
And wait for the lad who bikes down at four
to call them over to milking.
10. The Cows
by Elizabeth Jacobson
Now that I have read this story about the cows
I think of them at night when I cannot sleep,
how they are so still in their grassy field,
seemingly suspended like animations of themselves.
Even though there are only 3, I count them over and over,
envision them as if I were floating above their pasture,
observe the different stances they choose:
the 3 of them standing bottom to bottom, or
head to head,
sometimes in a row, one behind the other
sometimes side by side.
They stand where they want and nurse their calves.
They lie down in their field when they feel like it.
If the farmer wants to kill one, and it won’t get in the truck
he gives up and lets it live.
If the farmer wants to sell one, and it won’t get in the truck
he gives up and lets it stay.
I am glad I read this story by Lydia Davis.
I like to think of how she stood in her window and watched these cows.
I imagine how she may have moved from inside her house to outside her house,
depending on the weather, to stand and watch these cows,
month after month,
and although the details of their days are rather plain
she wrote a very essential story.
Right before I fall asleep I think about how there are no cows where I live
but there are mountains,
and I watch them move in this same way.
They open and close, depending on the weather
and like these 3 cows, these mountains are a few of the things left
that get to live exactly as they must.
Short Cow Poems
These short poetries about cows pack a punch with their concise and clever verses. What do you say, shall we moo towards it?
1. The Purple Cow
by Gelett Burgess
I never saw a Purple Cow,
I never hope to see one,
But I can tell you, anyhow,
I’d rather see than be one!
2. True Love
by Janet
A milkmaid called Maisy was milking the cow,
She’d filled seven buckets and then fed the sow,
The farmer came out and he gave her the sack,
So she turned the cow round and she poured the milk back
3. Queen (a Haiku)
by Anonymous
Beautiful Holstein,
Who’s milk helps give life to all;
a true dairy queen.
4. Whilst Wandering Round a Field
by Anonymous
Whilst wandering round the field today
what do you think I found?
It was a lovely lump of shit
Dropped by a bull upon the ground.
I stooped to sniff at it
(Although I admit that is rude)
And Fergus the bull leaped on my back
And I got thoroughly screwed.
5. The Purple Cow: Suite
by Gelett Burgess
Ah, Yes! I wrote the “Purple Cow” —
I’m Sorry, now, I wrote it!
But I can tell you Anyhow,
I’ll kill you if you quote it!
6. There Once Was a Cow Called Pete
by Matt Jameson
There once was a cow called Pete
Whose pay was all that he could eat
So he mowed the lawn
From dusk right to dawn
But his belly fell out of his feet
7. Hard Working Moo-cow
by Dr. Debadeepti
Moo-cow is now the driver of the tractor,
engulfs the wastage of the garden sector,
watches whole moo-cow group,
delicious, happy greenery soup,
prepared for others with vitamin “G” factor.
8. Krishna Returning With the Herd
by Sant Surdas
Mohan comes herding the cows,
crown of peacock feathers on his head,
garland of forest flowers on his chest,
in his hand a wooden staff,
his body wrapped in cow-dust.
A band around his waist
and from his feet the sound of anklets
there amidst his cow-boyfriends
Shyam comes. His yellow garments standing out
like lightning amidst the clouds.
9. The Dairy Cow
by Pattipants
I love dairy cows, and their bovine ilk,
Who provides, such refreshing milk?
And who does not, always scream,
For the fifty-one flavors, of ice cream.
And for a dieter, it really does please,
To chow down on, cottage cheese.
Also cheer the cow, and its amazing utter,
For spreading on our toast, such tasty butter.
So let’s all give, a deserving bow,
To the humble, dairy cow
10. Metaphors
by Sylvia Plath
I’m a riddle in nine syllables,
An elephant, a ponderous house,
A melon strolling on two tendrils.
O red fruit, ivory, fine timbers!
This loaf’s big with its yeasty rising.
Money’s new-minted in this fat purse.
I’m a means, a stage, a cow in calf.
I’ve eaten a bag of green apples,
Boarded the train there’s no getting off.
Long Cow Poems
These long poetries about cows take you on a journey through the life of a cow, offering a sweeping portrait of this beloved animal.
1. Driving Home the Cows
by Kate Putnam Osgood
Out of the clover and blue-eyed grass
He turned them into the river lane;
One after another he let them pass,
Then fastened the meadow bars again.
Under the willows and over the hill,
He patiently followed their sober pace;
The merry whistle for once was still,
And something shadowed the sunny face.
Only a boy! and his father had said
He never could let his youngest go:
Two already were lying dead,
Under the feet of the trampling foe. …
But after the evening work was done,
And the frogs were loud in the meadow-swamp,
Over his shoulder he slung his gun,
And stealthily followed the footpath damp.
Across the clover, and through the wheat,
With resolute heart and purpose grim:
Though the dew was on his hurrying feet,
And the blind bat’s flitting startled him.
Thrice since then had the lanes been white,
And the orchards sweet with apple-bloom;
And now, when the cows came back at night,
The feeble father drove them home.
For news had come to the lonely farm
That three were lying where two had lain;
And the old man’s tremulous, palsied arm
Could never lean on a son’s again.
The summer day grew cool and late:
He went for the cows when the work was done;
But down the lane, as he opened the gate,
He saw them coming one by one:
Brindle, Ebony, Speckle, and Bess,
Shaking their horns in the evening wind;
Cropping the buttercups out of the grass,
But who was it following close behind?
Loosely swung in the idle air
The empty sleeve of army blue;
And worn and pale, from the crisping hair,
Looked out a face that the father knew.
For close-barred prisons will sometimes yawn,
And yield their dead unto life again;
And the day that comes with a cloudy dawn,
In golden glory at last may wane.
The great tears sprang to their meeting eyes;
For the heart must speak when the lips are dumb,
And under the silent evening skies
Together they followed the cattle home.
2. The Outlaw
by Charles Badger Clark
When my rope takes hold on a two-year-old,
By the foot or the neck or the horn,
He kin plunge and fight till his eyes go white
But I’ll throw him as sure as you’re born.
Though the taut ropes sing like a banjo string
And the latigoes creak and strain,
Yet I got no fear of an outlaw steer
And I’ll tumble him on the plain.
For a man is a man, but a steer is a beast,
And the man is the boss of the herd,
And each of the bunch, from the biggest to least,
Must come down when he says the word.
When my leg swings ‘cross on an outlaw hawse
And my spurs clinch into his hide,
He kin r’ar and pitch over hill and ditch,
But wherever he goes I’ll ride.
Let ‘im spin and flop like a crazy top
Or flit like a wind-whipped smoke,
But he’ll know the feel of my rowelled heel
Till he’s happy to own he’s broke.
For a man is a man and a hawse is a brute,
And the hawse may be prince of his clan
But he’ll bow to the bit and the steel-shod boot
And own that his boss is the man.
When the devil at rest underneath my vest
Gets up and begins to paw
And my hot tongue strains at its bridle reins,
Then I tackle the real outlaw.
When I get plumb riled and my sense goes wild
And my temper is fractious growed,
If he’ll hump his neck just a triflin’ speck,
Then it’s dollars to dimes I’m throwed.
For a man is a man, but he’s partly a beast.
He kin brag till he makes you deaf,
But the one lone brute, from the west to the east,
That he kaint quite break is himse’f.
3. The Cow Boy’s Dream
by Bruce Kiskaddon
A cow boy and his trusty pal
Were camped one night by an old corral;
They were keeping a line on the boss’s steers
And looking for calves with lengthy ears.
The summer work was long since through
And only the winter branding to do.
When he went to rest there was frost on his bed
But he pulled the tarp up over his head;
And into his blankets he burrowed deep,
He soon got warm and was fast asleep.
He dreamed he was through with his wayward past
And had landed safe in Heaven at last.
A city was there with its pearly gate
And the golden streets were wide and straight
The marble palaces gleamed and shone
And the choir sang ’round the great white throne.
Outside there were trees and meadows green–
Such a beautiful range he had never seen,
Great rivers of purest waters flowed
Though it never rained nor it never snowed.
He stood aside on the golden street,
There were heavy spurs on his booted feet,
His bat wing chaps were laced with whang,
But he listened and looked while the angels sang.
He noticed he was the only one
With a broad brimmed hat and a big six gun.
So he said to a saint, “I’d shore admire
To be dressed like one of that angel choir,
Instead of these chaps and spurs and gun;
And I reckon as how it could be done.”
So they took him into a room aside
And they fastened wings on his toughened hide.
They fitted him out with a flowing robe,
Like the lady who looks in the crystal glove.
They gave him a crown and a golden harp
And the frost lay thick on the cow boy’s tarp.
He twanged his harp and he sang a while,
Then he thought of something that made him smile.
Said he “I reckon these wings would do
To show some mustangs a thing or two.
I’ll jump a bunch and I’ll yell and whoop,
I’ll kick their tails and I’ll flop and swoop;
I’ll light a straddle of one of the things,
And I’ll flop his flanks with my angel wings.
I’ll ride him bare-back, but if I fail,
And he bucks me off, I’ll simply sail.”
He hunted wild horses in his dream,
But all he found was the charist team
That Old Elija drove in there,
And to pick on them would hardly be fair.
So he seated himself beneath a tree
And rested his crown upon his knee.
He watched the beautiful angels go
Flying and fluttering to and fro.
At last one landed and started to walk,
She came up close and began to talk.
She had lovely hair of golden brown
And was dressed in a flimsy silken gown.
She had dimpled cheeks, her eyes were blue,
And her fair white skin was beautiful too.
The cow boy gazed at the angel’s charms
And attempted to clasp her within his arms.
“Stop! Stop!” She cried, “Or, I’ll make complaints
To the great white throne and the ruling saints.”
So the cow boy halted I must confess
And failed to bestow that fond caress.
Said he, “Miss Angel,” It’s shore too bad.
This sort of a country makes me sad.
Where there ain’t no night and it’s always day,
And the beautiful ladies won’t even play.
When there’s wonderful houses and golden streets,
But nobody sleeps and nobody eats.
Them beautiful rivers, it’s sad to think.
There ain’t no hosses or cows to drink.
With all this grass a goin’ to seed
And there ain’t no critters to eat the feed.
A man can’t gamble–There’s so much gold
He could pick up more than his clothes would hold.
What’s the use of the Judge and the great white throne
Where troubles or fights was never known?
I’m sorry miss but I’ll tell you true,
This ain’t no place for a buckaroo.”
Then she asked him about his former life
And learned he had never possessed a wife.
But this angel lady so sweet and nice,
Informed him that she had been married twice.
Her husbands had both been quiet men
But if she had it to do again,
She’s have to decide between just two.
A sailor boy or a buckaroo.
She seated herself upon his knees
And gave his neck such a hearty squeeze–
Just then they heard an excited call,
‘Twas a gray old saint on the city wall.
He flopped his robes and he waved his arm
Till the crowd all gathered in great alarm;
And then the cow boy stood alone,
Before the judge and the great white throne.
“What’s this?” the Judge of Creation cried.
“How come this fellow to get inside?
Age must be dimming St. Peter’s eye
To let a spirit like that get by.
Just look at his face with its desert brown,
And his bandy legs ‘neath his angel gown.
He’s a buckaroo, I know then well,
They don’t allow them even in Hell.
He hasn’t been here a half a day
And he started an angel to go astray.
We can’t permit him to stay atall.
Just pitch him over the outside wall.”
So the saints and the angels gave him a start
And he went toward the Earth like a falling dart.
He never remembered the time he lit
For he wakened before the tumble quit.
The winter wind blew cold and sharp
And the frost lay thick on the cow boy’s tarp.
His beautiful vision had come to grief,
So he baked his biscuits and fried some beef.
And drank some coffee black and strong;
But all that day as he rode along
He thought of the saint who had butted in,
And he said to himself with a wicked grin,
“I wish I had holt of that old saint chap,
I’d grab his whiskers and change his map.
I’d jump on his frame and I’d stomp aroun’
Till I tromped him out of his saintly gown.”
And all of his life as he roamed and toiled,
He thought of his vision so sadly spoiled.
And the meddlesome saint that has caused it all
When he gave the alarm from the Jasper wall.
He didn’t repent nor he didn’t pray,
But he always wished they had let him stay.
4. Calling the Cows
by Hannah Augusta Moore
T was a vision of the morning,
‘T was a vision of the mist,
Ere the purple hills of dawning
By the sun’s first rays were kissed.
Up floated, through gray shadows,
To my chamber s silent gloom.
The tuneful voice of Gracie—
Its music filled my room.
It called me from my roving
In the land of pleasant dreams,
The land of happy loving,
By soft, untroubled streams.
Fair as an Eister lily,
And beautiful and tall,
Stood Gracie—from ths shadows
Making her winsome call.
“Soh, Fan! soh, Fan! soh, Pinkie!
Soh, Pinkie! and soh, Fan!”
Paint ye a morning picture
More spirit-like who can!
The breathings of the river
To phantom shapes had grown;
They curled about the mountain,
They through the vale were blown.
Lightly they clung to Gracie,
Standing on dew-drops there;
Lightly they veiled her features
And flowing golden hair.
Was it a mortal maiden,
Thus, half-revealed, that stood,
On an oread of the mountain,
Or a dryad of the wood?
Or, from the darkling river
Had a fair naiad sprung,
Weiring the form of Gracie,
With Gracie’s silver tongue?
“Soh, Fan! soh, Fan! soh, Pinkie!
Soh, Pinkie! and soh, Fan!”
Paint ye a morning picture
More spirit-like who can.
5. The Cow and the Pig and the Hen
by A. H. Upham
The farmer smiled as he passed them by—
The cow and the pig and the hen;
For the price of wheat had gone sky-high,
And the cow and the pig and the hen
They ate up grain he could sell at the mill,
They needed his care when nights were chill,
He swore of them all he’d had his fill—
The cow and the pig and the hen.
These barnyard cattle had had their day,
The cow and the pig and the hen.
He could get thirty bones for a ton of hay—
No need for the cow or the hen.
He never would milk another cow,
He hated the sight of a grunting sow,
And raising chickens was work for the frau,
Good-bye to the cow and the hen.
They gave no heed to his jeer or frown,
The cow and the pig and the hen,
Whatever goes up, said they, comes down,
The wise old cow and the hen.
The hen laid eggs the winter thru,
The cow gave milk and the piggy grew,
But hay dropped down from thirty to two—
Oh, the cow and the pig and the hen!
Now he sits and sighs, as he counts the cost,
For the cow and the pig and the hen.
He almost cries for the milk he’s lost,
The cow and the pig and the hen.
He’d tend them gladly in mud and rain,
And scrap his acres of hay and grain,
If he only could buy them back again,
The cow and the pig and the hen
6. The Calf-Path
by Sam Walter Foss
One day through the primeval wood
A calf walked home as good calves should;
But made a trail all bent askew,
A crooked trail as all calves do.
Since then three hundred years have fled,
And I infer the calf is dead.
But still he left behind his trail,
And thereby hangs my moral tale.
The trail was taken up next day
By a lone dog that passed that way;
And then a wise bell-wether sheep
Pursued the trail o’er vale and steep,
And drew the flock behind him, too,
As good bell-wethers always do.
And from that day, o’er hill and glade,
Through those old woods a path was made.
And many men wound in and out,
And dodged and turned and bent about,
And uttered words of righteous wrath
Because ’twas such a crooked path;
But still they followed—do not laugh—
The first migrations of that calf,
And through this winding wood-way stalked
Because he wobbled when he walked.
This forest path became a lane,
That bent and turned and turned again;
This crooked lane became a road,
Where many a poor horse with his load
Toiled on beneath the burning sun,
And travelled some three miles in one.
And thus a century and a half
They trod the footsteps of that calf.
The years passed on in swiftness fleet.
The road became a village street;
And this, before men were aware,
A city’s crowded thoroughfare.
And soon the central street was this
Of a renowned metropolis;
And men two centuries and a half
Trod in the footsteps of that calf.
Each day a hundred thousand rout
Followed this zigzag calf about
And o’er his crooked journey went
The traffic of a continent.
A hundred thousand men were led
By one calf near three centuries dead.
They followed still his crooked way,
And lost one hundred years a day;
For thus such reverence is lent
To well-established precedent.
A moral lesson this might teach
Were I ordained and called to preach;
For men are prone to go it blind
Along the calf-paths of the mind,
And work away from sun to sun
To do what other men have done.
They follow in the beaten track,
And out and in, and forth and back,
And still their devious course pursue,
To keep the path that others do.
They keep the path a sacred groove,
Along which all their lives they move;
But how the wise old wood-gods laugh,
Who saw the first primeval calf.
Ah, many things this tale might teach—
But I am not ordained to preach.
7. When the Cows Come Home
by Agnes E. Mitchell
WITH klingle, klangle, klingle,
Way down the dusty dingle,
The cows are coming home;
Now sweet and clear, and faint and low,
The airy tinklings come and go,
Like chimings from some far-off tower,
Or patterings of an April shower
That makes the daisies grow—
Ko-kling, ko-klang, koklinglelingle,
Way down the darkening dingle
The cows come slowly home.
With jingle, jangle, jingle,
Soft sounds that sweetly mingle,
The cows are coming home;
Malime, and Pearl, and Florimel,
DeKamp, Redrose, and Gretchen Schell,
Queen Bess, and Sylph, and Spangled Sue—
Across the field I hear loo-oo,
And clang her silver bell,
Go-ling, go-lang, golinglelingle,
With faint far sounds that mingle,
The cows come slowly home;
And mother-songs of long-gone years,
And baby joys, and childish fears,
And youthful hopes, and youthful fears,
When the cows come home.
With ringle, rangle, ringle,
By twos and threes and single,
The cows are coming home.
Through the violet air we see the town,
And the summer sun a-slipping down;
The maple in the hazel glade
Throws down the path a longer shade,
And the hills are growing brown.
To-ring, to-rang, toringleringle,
By threes and fours and single,
The cows come slowly home.
The same sweet sound of wordless psalm,
The same sweet June-day rest and calm,
The same sweet scent of bud and balm,
When the cows come home.
With a tinkle, tankle, tinkle,
Through fern and periwinkle,
The cows are coming home;
A-loitering in the checkered stream,
Where the sun-rays glance and gleam,
Starine, Peachbloom, and Phœbe Phyllis
Stand knee deep in the creamy lilies,
In a drowsy dream.
To-link, to-lank, tolinklelinkle,
O’er banks with butter-cups a twinkle
The cows come slowly home;
And up through memory’s deep ravine,
Come the brook’s old song and its old-time sheen,
And the crescent of the silver queen,
When the cows come home.
With a klingle, klangle, klingle,
With a loo-oo, and moo-oo, and jingle,
The cows are coming home;
And over there on Merlin hill,
Hear the plaintive cry of the whippoorwill;
The dew-drops lie on the tangled vines,
And over the poplars Venus shines;
And over the silent mill,
Ko-ling, ko-lang, kolinglelingle,
With a ting-a-ling, and jingle,
The cows come slowly home.
Let down the bars; let in the train
Of long-gone songs, and flowers, and rain;
For dear old times come back again
When the cows come home.
8. Cows
by Paul Muldoon
Even as we speak, there’s a smoker’s cough
from behind the whitethorn hedge: we stop dead in our tracks;
a distant tingle of water into a trough.
In the past half-hour—since a cattle truck
all but sent us shuffling off this mortal coil—
we’ve consoled ourselves with the dregs
of a bottle of Redbreast. Had Hawthorne been a Gael,
I insist, the scarlet A on Hester Prynne
would have stood for ‘Alcohol.’
This must be the same truck whose taillights burn
so dimly, as if caked with dirt,
three or four hundred yards along the boreen
(a diminutive form of the Gaelic bóthar, ‘a road,’
from bó, ‘a cow,’ and thar
meaning, in this case, something like ‘athwart,’
‘boreen’ has entered English ‘through the air’
despite the protestations of the O.E.D.):
why, though, should one taillight flash and flare
then flicker-fade
to an afterimage of tourmaline
set in a dark part-jet, part-jasper or -jade?
That smoker’s cough again: it triggers off from drumlin
to drumlin an emphysemantiphon
of cows. They hoist themselves onto their trampoline
and steady themselves and straight away divine
water in some far-flung spot
to which they then gravely incline. This is no Devon
cow-coterie, by the way, whey-faced, with Spode
hooves and horns: nor are they the metaphysicattle of Japan
that have merely to anticipate
scoring a bull’s-eye and, lo, it happens;
these are earth-flesh, earth-blood, salt of the earth,
whose talismans are their own jawbones
buried under threshold and hearth.
For though they trace themselves to the kith and kine
that presided over the birth
of Christ (so carry their calves a full nine
months and boast liquorice
cachous on their tongues), they belong more to the line
That’s tramped these cwms and corries
since Cuchulainn tramped Aoife.
Again the flash. Again the fade. However I might allegorize
Some oscaraboscarabinary bevy
of cattle there’s no getting round this cattle truck,
one light on the blink, laden with what? Microwaves? Hi-fis?
Oscaraboscarabinary: a twin, entwined, a tree, a Tuareg;
a double dung-beetle; a plain
and simple hi-firing party; an off-the-back-of-a-lorry drogue?
Enough of Colette and Céline, Céline and Paul Celan:
enough of whether Nabokov
taught at Wellesley or Wesleyan.
Now let us talk of slaughter and the slain,
the helicopter gunship, the mighty Kalashnikov:
let’s rest for a while in a place where a cow has lain.
9. The Wild Cattle of Swona Island, Orkney
by Kate Newman
They’ve lived there for years, the aurox,
Since the last inhabitants left them
With the island, casting off
Into the fierce conflicting tides.
Two bulls, four calves and six cows
Roam the boggy fields,
Hoof-prints like runes
Across abandoned acres.
Once a year, a vet makes the journey.
He watches them from a distance,
The way a cow rests the bulk
Of her ribcage on the soggy earth.
The way the last boat,
Bleached on the rucked shore,
Arcs its empty ballast,
Holes worn through by scratching hides.
The days fall away like rust flakes
Off the useless gates. Their breath
Meets the mizzled air in currents
As unreadable as the ocean’s drowning pull;
Wind rough-tongues their eyes and ears
Like a calf being cleaned.
They are the part of us – warm-breathing –
That will always return, that never left.
10. Cows Are Cute, Cows Are Fun,
by Allen Roberts
I see you running like on chariots of fire,
running gracefully to the pond.
And as you quench your thirst in the muddy water,
your graceful reflection scatters,
as though touched with a magic wand.
How my heart flutters when in orange moon-lit night,
I hear and see your babies,
what a delightful sight,
To see them running with pretended fright,
from a skunk full of foaming rabies.
How now moo cow, will you survive,
with wolves coming out from the woods,
like bees from a hive.
You group into threes and fives,
To protect your calves and precious goods.
My father and I, we take up our guns,
and we search for the coyote, that malicious mut,
who in the day appears to be fun,
but at night deprives us of our funds,
and so we go out and put poison in his gut.
Is it our fault that coyotes eat our cows?
That we took up all their range?
Or that game officials bow
to requests to protect our cows,
or are all coyotes all in the head, deranged?
Cows are cute,
Cows are fun,
Cow babies are a beaut’
and I laugh when then toot,
from out their little buns.
11. Daisy’s Erotic Dream in a Field
by Anonymous
I see the tumbleweed and
the dehydrated cactus
in the desert
and my bovine lips are cracked
with thirst
but it’s just a fucking nightmare
and Daisy the Cow
wakes up to find herself
in a nice green field
under a blue sky with a touch of indigo
and not a goddam coyote in sight
how lucky I am to lie in the shade of a tree
although a thistle is prickling my udder
and I have a bit of sunburn
in my arsehole
as well as some stale shit
hanging in tendrils
as the consequence
of eating a half-rotten swede
or it may have been a turnip
what am I a botanist
but all the same
keep those gums a-chewing
‘cos later |I’ll be screwing
with “Old Pistol”
the big butch bull in the next field
yippee yi yay
it’s a nice old day
I’m Daisy the Cow
and I’m the happiest ton of beef
you have ever bloody well seen
12. The Old Cow Man
by Badger Clark Jr
I rode across a valley range
I hadn’t seen for years.
The trail was all so spoilt and strange
It nearly fetched the tears.
I had to let ten fences down
(The fussy lanes ran wrong)
And each new line would make me frown
And hum a mournin’ song.
Oh, it’s squeak! squeak! squeak!
Hear ’em stretchin’ of the wire!
The nester brand is on the land;
I reckon I’ll retire,
While progress toots her brassy horn
And makes her motor buzz,
I thank the Lord I wasn’t born
No later than I was.
‘Twas good to live when all the sod,
Without no fence or fuss,
Belonged in partnership to God,
The Gover’ment and us.
With skyline bounds from east to west
And room to go and come,
I loved my fellow man the best
When he was scattered some.
Oh, it’s squeak! squeak! squeak!
Close and closer cramps the wire.
There’s hardly any place to back away
And call a man a liar.
Their house has locks on every door;
Their land is in a crate.
These ain’t the plains of God no more,
They’re only real estate.
There’s land where yet no ditchers dig
Nor cranks experiment;
It’s only lovely, free and big
And isn’t worth a cent.
I pray that them who come to spoil
May wait till I am dead
Before they foul that blessed soil
With fence and cabbage head.
Yet it’s squeak! squeak! squeak!
Far and farther crawls the wire.
To crowd and pinch another inch
Is all their heart’s desire.
The word is overstocked with men
And some will see the day
When each must keep his little pen,
But I’ll be far away.
When my old soul hunts range and rest
Beyond the last divide,
Just plant me in some stretch of West
That’s sunny, lone and wide.
Let cattle rub my tombstone down
And coyotes mourn their kin,
Let hawses paw and tromp the moun’
But don’t you fence it in!
Oh it’s squeak! squeak! squeak!
And they pen the land with wire.
They figure fence and copper cents
where we laughed ’round the fire.
Job cussed his birthday, night and morn,
In his old land of Uz,
But I’m just glad I wasn’t born
no later than I was
Cow Poems That Rhyme
These playful and lyrical poems about cow with rhyming words are sure to delight with their catchy and charming rhymes.
1. The Cow in Apple Time
by Robert Frost
Something inspires the only cow of late
To make no more of a wall than an open gate,
And think no more of wall-builders than fools.
Her face is flecked with pomace and she drools
A cider syrup. Having tasted fruit,
She scorns a pasture withering to the root.
She runs from tree to tree where lie and sweeten
The windfalls spiked with stubble and worm-eaten.
She leaves them bitten when she has to fly.
She bellows on a knoll against the sky.
Her udder shrivels and the milk goes dry.
2. Pretty Cow
by Ann Taylor
Thank you, pretty cow, that made
Pleasant milk to soak my bread,
Every day, and every night,
Warm, and fresh, and sweet, and white.
Do not chew the hemlock rank,
Growing on the weedy bank;
But the yellow cowslips eat,
They will make it very sweet.
Where the purple violet grows,
Where the bubbling water flows,
Where the grass is fresh and fine,
Pretty cow, go there and dine.
3. The Cow
by Robert Louis Stevenson
The friendly cow all red and white
I love with all my heart:
She gives me cream with all her might,
To eat with apple-tart.
She wanders lowing here and there,
And yet she cannot stray,
All in the pleasant open air,
The pleasant light of day;
And blown by all the winds that pass
And wet with all the showers,
She walks among the meadow grass
And eats the meadow flowers.
4. Milking Time
by Elizabeth Madox Roberts
When supper time is almost come,
But not quite here, I cannot wait,
And so I take my china mug
And go down by the milking gate.
The cow is always eating shucks
And spilling off the little silk.
Her purple eyes are big and soft-
She always smells like milk.
And Father takes my mug from me,
And then he makes the stream come out.
I see it going in my mug
And foaming all about.
And when it’s piling very high,
And when some little streams commence
To run and drip along the sides,
He hands it to me through the fence.
5. Insanities
by Anonymous
Like a lion eating tofu,
see this cow getting in the drive-through?
Moving on is the way to go,
Just like staying put against the flow.
6. A Big Brown Cow
by Hojadaro
Come on we will cut through – knock a mile off our walk”
Smiling in sunshine, just enjoying a talk.
“Oh well, what have we now.
Our path is quite blocked, by a big brown cow.”
“Look at those horns! Are you sure it’s a cow?
What should we do? What to do now?”
“Well I didn’t look closely, but I’m sure it’s a cow
Stay calm and walk past, let’s go round now”
“Well you go on first, as you’re sure it’s a cow,
I’ll wait here with the phone. Go on dear, now…”
Just past it’s head, seems less sure now
Breaks into a run “… It might not be a cow!”
Filming for Facebook, she’s shaking her head
Laughing so hard, “Your jumper is red!”
As he leaps over the gate, he sees the sign
“Beware I’m a bull, and this field is mine!”
Got his breath back, and together now
‘Let’s go round the long route and avoid the brown ‘cow’ “
7. Pink Cow
by Anonymous
I never saw a pink cow
and never hope to be one
how would its milk taste
like glue or yucky paste
I never want to drink it
and surely wouldn’t anyhow
but I can tell you I’d rather
see than be that pink cow
8. Cow in the Road (Sonnet)
by Bwoz
I’ve come to a cow in the road
standing in the morning mud
holds her ground, chews her cud,
swishes off a worldly load.
Her frightened calf runs about
along the hedge beside the lane
new and lost in traffic’s vein
he won’t jump in or climb out.
Stay still child and let me go
I’ll bow and creep slowly by
a reflection in your liquid eye
we’ll keep the morning just so
new, afraid, you don’t know better
may God help you through the weather
9. The Cow
by James Stephens
Cow, Cow!
I and thou
Are looking at each other’s eyes
You are lying on the grass
Eating every time I pass,
And you do not seem to be
Ever in perplexity:
You are good I’m sure, and not
Fit for nothing but the pot:
For your bearing is so kind,
And your quietness so wise:
Cow, Cow!
I and thou
are looking at each other’s eyes.
10. Those Dairy Cows.
by Leighcurson
It must be sixty five or so years now
And I cannot recall the name of every cow
But some I can fondly remember still
And I guess I probably always will
There was the boss Big Yella, always first
Next Little Ricky her kick was the worst
Then Old Brindle. she loved her little treats
Big Red Poll, always having sore teats
Ricketty Kate was saved from an early fate
Gentle Polly gave milk at a super rate
Silly Winter was forever causing trouble
Darky could have easily been her double
These cows were our friends and earners
Us kids graduated from being learners
To become competent, caring, dairy farmers
To me those cows were simply charmers.
Cow Poems for Kids
These cow poems for children are designed to entertain and educate young readers with their whimsical, interesting, and fun approach.
1. The Breakfast Song
by Emilie Poulsson
At five o’clock he milks the cow,
The busy farmer’s man.
At six o’clock he strains the milk
And pours it in the can.
At seven o’clock the milkman’s horse
Must go to town—”get up!”
At eight o’clock Nurse Karen pours
The milk in Baby’s cup.
At five o’clock the Baby sleeps
As sound as sound can be.
At six o’clock he laughs and shouts,
So wide awake is he.
At seven o’clock he’s in his bath,
At eight o’clock he’s dressed
Just when the milk is ready, too,
So you can guess the rest.
2. Sleeping Cow
by Faded
Dawn treads
over heather-bruised
purple fields,
Casts her honey-light
over a sleeping cow.
3. Floral Cow Meets the Mailman
by Caren Krutsinger
Floral cow woke up one morning with flower seeds on her head.
They grew and sprouted, some turned pink, others red.
She enjoyed them ever so much, they gave her identity.
I think I like them more than you, she said to bumblebee.
Bumblebee laughed and said “oh, honey, no way!
Nobody likes a flower better than me at the start of the day”
Floral Cow took a few laps around the meadow swishing her tail.
The post man nearly fell off his bike delivering the morning mail.
What a beautiful cow! He said to Farmer Bill.
Do you mind if I follow her up that hill?
I could sell her to you, said the farmer. She is a sweetheart.
Pretty soon the mailman and the moo-er could not be apart.
4. The Whiff Was Something Else Now
by Caren Krutsinger
Miss Maisy cow with a floral headdress crown
You are ever so gorgeous, all the way around
Never have we seen a prettier bovine than you
Too bad your cow pie has stuck to my shoe.
It was okay until I tried to pry it off.
Some old lady was wheezing with a hard cough.
Whew! The whiff was something else now.
Allergic to perfume, from Miss Maisy Cow.
5. I Want the Milk With Elsie’s Face
by Anonymous
Before Mr. Peanut an advertising team created Elsie the Cow
At the Borden Milk Company, Elsie, a Jersey heifer, was a wow.
She was introduced with three friends- Blossom, Bessie and Claire.
Four years later in 1940 Elsie the Cow was a feature at the World’s Fair
better known now than Mickey Mouse, most famous icon around?
Living in handsome “colonial barn”, where she was safe and sound.
As a child I wanted Bordens, because every jug featured Elsie’s face.
Mother would not purchase it, for it was two cents more, a big disgrace.
6. Daisy Belle
by Anonymous
Daisy Belle the friesian holstein lazily
Eating verdant grass in pastoral excellence with vivid cobalt skies.
Staring blankly into the camera eye as if to say, “
Why you here and what are are you doing?”
No swirling psychedelic motifs or symbolic
Concepts impossible to grasp.
Just the minds Imagination to make the red
& white shapes of her hide into something meaningfully vast.
Supplying milk to the cute little calves and
Endless countryside villager’s wilst a fat coral
Sun sets slowly in various color palettes.
She is just there being lost in the splendor of this ethereal scene.
No cares or worries just an eternal mother figure for all.
Cows are one of the most familiar and beloved farm animals, and they have inspired poets for centuries.
These gentle and docile creatures, with their big brown eyes and soft mooing, have captured the imagination of poets with their charm and simplicity.
Cow poems range from funny and lighthearted to serious and introspective, and they offer a unique perspective on these animals and their role in our lives.
Whether you’re a child or an adult, these poems about cows are sure to entertain and inspire you.
7.The Cow Poem
by Anonymous
We always say,”Eat Mor Chicken”
We eat grass majestically in the fields of greatness.
Farmers milk us.
We don’t like it very much.
Some call us okay.
Others call us awesome.
But we like to call ourselves, AMAZING.
Without cows, you would have no milk to pour over your cereal.
You humans would probably die from the lack of milk that we produce.
I think its gross that you drink milk.
I mean it comes from our private parts.
Drinking milk out of a jug is pretty much like drinking urine out of a container.
I am glad you took the time to read this writing piece even though the title is deceiving seeing that this is not a poem at all.
Cows!
8. Cow
by Anonymous
I don’t know why or how,
God decided to make the cow
with its belly oh so white
and a brain thats not so bright
Eating grass
and sleep sound
all day long on the ground
When the hatchet comes to play
That when the cow has to pay
For its benelovent costic ways
As it poops and sleeps and graze
But they tatse yes indeed ohsure
When there made complete kosher.
9. The Cow and the Frog
by Poetic T
The Frog was doing his thing
Hopping,
Croaking,
Splashing,
In to any water that he could see,
He happened upon
This Jigsaw of black and white
Morning sir, he croaked
The Cow looked down,
“Mooooo”
Pardon I didn’t quite get that,
“Moooove”
Your on the tastiest grass
Below your webbed feet,
“Sorry sir,”
Didn’t wish to stomp on your
Lunch with my feet,
So he hoped along, as Frogs do
Then turned around,
Hopped his best, speed built up
Leaping with all his might,
Over the Cow,
Then gracefully on to his feet,
“Cow turned”
What are you doing little thing,
As the Frog
Replied, I was seeing if I could
Jump over you
Why?
Would you do such a thing,
Well mum told me
A Cow jumped over the moon,
Yes we do
Replied Cow
Famously Are we for doing this,
Feat never seen.
“Frog replied”
Riibit, well I just jumped over you
So now I an the best jumper it seems,
Confused,
Thinking,
Laughing,*
Out loud with a MMOOooo
You aren’t a better jumper than me,
We will see little Frog said
With that he did a
Bounce,
Hop,
Jumped,
Over the Cow once again it seemed,
Now it is your turn
As Cow looked on nervously
So he hooved his feet
1,
2,
3,
With that he tried
“Failed”
Lost his balance,
And in to another’s Cow pat
His face did meet.
Now the cow was not only
Black
&
White
But now he was
Covered,
&
Smelled,
Like poo, embarrassed
Was he
The Frog did laugh
Ribit, Ribit, Ribit,
Loud and clear,
Cow looked at frog,
Now Cow do you see,
Never believe what you hear,
Until you see it with your own eyes,
This is what my mother read to me,
And with that, Frog bounced off happily.
Cow Poems for Adults
These cow poems offer a more introspective and thoughtful take on the gentle cow, appealing to the more mature reader.
1. Moo Cow Moo
by Edmund Vance Cooke
My papa held me up to the Moo Cow Moo
So close I could almost touch,
And I fed him a couple of times or so,
And I wasn’t a fraidy-cat, much.
But if my papa goes in the house,
And my mamma she goes in too,
I keep still like a little mouse
For the Moo Cow Moo might Moo.
The Moo Cow’s tail is a piece of rope
All ravelled out where it grows;
And it’s just like feeling a piece of soap
All over the Moo Cow’s nose.
And the Moo Cow Moo has lots of fun
Just switching his tail about,
But if he opens his mouth, why then I run,
For that’s where the Moo comes out.
The Moo Cow Moo has deers on his head,
And his eyes stick out of their place,
And the nose of the Moo Cow Moo is spread
All over the Moo Cow’s face.
And his feet are nothing but fingernails,
And his mamma don’t keep them cut,
And he gives folks milk in water pails,
When he don’t keep his handles shut.
But if you or I pull his handles, why
The Moo Cow Moo says it hurts,
But the hired man sits down close by
And squirts, and squirts, and squirts.
2. Feeding Out – Wintering Cattle at Twilight
by Ted Hughes
The wind is inside the hill.
The wood is a struggle—like a wood
Struggling through a wood. A panic
Only just holds off—every gust
Breaches the sky-walls and it seems, this time,
The whole sea of air will pour through,
The thunder will take deep hold, roots
Will have to come out, every loose thing
Will have to lift and go. And the cows, dark lumps of dusk
Stand waiting, like nails in a tin roof.
For the crucial moment, taking the strain
In their stirring stillness. As if their hooves
Held their field in place, held the hill
To its trembling shape. Night-thickness
Purples in the turmoil, making
Everything more alarming. Unidentifiable, tiny
Birds go past like elf-bolts.
Battling the hay-bales from me, the cows
Jostle and crush, like hulls blown from their moorings
And piling at the jetty. The wind
Has got inside their wintry buffalo skins,
Their wild woolly bulk-heads, their fierce, joyful breathings
And the reckless strength of their necks.
What do they care, their hooves
Are knee-deep in porage of earth—
The hay blows luminous tatters from their chewings,
A fiery loss, frittering downwind,
Snatched away over the near edge
Where the world becomes water
Thundering like a flood-river at night.
They grunt happily, half-dissolved
On their steep, hurtling brink, as I flounder back
Towards headlights.
3. Cushy Cow
by Laura Benet
Cushy cow has curly horns,
Delicate, tipped with brown.
Swifter her hoofs fly backward
Than any bull’s in town.
We milk her into great white pails
And crocks of cottage blue,
And her leavings run all over the yard —
Yet our milking is never through!
I found her at smoky twilight
By the well of the pale primrose,
Where grey elves hung on her haunches
And nuzzled her grazing nose.
But as they cried and cheeped to her
And whined both plaintive and shrill,
I caught her by the lock that’s loose
And dragged her up Dead Man’s Hill!
Awhile she pined for the magic herb,
Awhile for the spring that’s young;
But since my sweetheart has sung to her
She holds a contented tongue.
Yet it’s by but a thread and a broken gate
We hold our fairy of kine.
She suckles elf babies still, by night,
Who wither on cowslip wine!
4. The Way to Hump a Cow is not
by Anonymous
the way to hump a cow is not
to get yourself a stool
but draw a line around the spot
and call it beautifool
to multiply because and why
dividing thens by nows
and adding and(i understand)
is hows to hump a cows
the way to hump a cow is not
to elevate your tool
but drop a penny in the slot
and bellow like a bool
to lay a wreath from ancient greath
on insulated brows
(while tossing boms at uncle toms
is hows to hump a cows
the way to hump a cow is not
to push and then to pull
but practicing the art of swot
to preach the golden rull
to vote for me(all decent mem
and wonens will allows
which if they don’t to hell with them)
is hows to hump a cows
5. It Starts With A Cow
by Anonymous
Given the task to make you a friend,
by specific, true and simple means,
I’ve set out my elaborate plan
in order to set the friendship free:
I’ll build a cow. A cow of wood.
And take from it a supple slice
and from that, we’ll both have some beef
to start our budding friendship right.
Our beef will splinter us both up bad
so much our tongues can’t utter more words,
forcing a mute mutual ordeal,
making us laugh so much it hurts.
From this; camaraderie will birth,
truer than a mundane, ‘hello, what’s your name?’;
the bad and the good both presented at first
would let us reap a far greater gain.
If you need reason more than the above
why you should befriend me, and why I would too:
laugher in pain with another is healing
and I think I may find such a friend in you.
6. A Cow and a Goat
by Muhammed Iqbal
There was a verdant pasture somewhere
Whose land was the very picture of beauty
How can the beauty of that elegance be described
Brooks of sparkling water were running on every side
Many were the pomegranate trees
And so were the shady peepul trees
Cool breeze flowed everywhere
Birds were singing everywhere
A goat arrived at a brook’s bank from somewhere
It came browsing from somewhere in the nearby land
As she stopped and looked around
She noticed a cow standing by
The goat first presented her compliments to the cow
Then respectfully started this conversation
“How are you! Madam Cow”?
The cow replied, “Not too well
“My life is a mere existence
My life is a complete agony
My life is in danger, what can I say?
My luck is bad, what can I say?
I am surprised at the state of affairs
I am cursing the evil people
The poor ones like us are powerless
Misfortunes surround the ones like us
None should nicely deal with Man
May God protect us from Man!
He murmurs if my milk declines
He sells me if my weight declines
He subdues us with cleverness!
Alluring, he always subjugates us!
I nurse his children with milk
I give them new life with milk
My goodness is repaid with evil
My prayer to God is for mercy!”
Having heard the cow’s story like this
The goat replied, “This complaint is unjust
Though truth is always bitter
I shall speak what is fair
This pasture, and this cool breeze
This green grass and this shade
Such comforts, were beyond our lot!
They were a far cry for us speechless poor!
We owe these pleasures to Man
We owe all our happiness to Man
We derive all our prosperity from him
What is better for us, freedom or bondage to him?
Hundreds of dangers lurk in the wilderness
May God protect us from the wilderness!
We are heavily indebted to him
Unjust is our complaint against him
If you appreciate the life’s comforts
You would never complain against Man”
Hearing all this the cow felt embarrassed
She was sorry for complaining against Man
She mused over the good and the bad
And thoughtfully she said this
“Small though is the body of the goat
Convincing is the advice of the goat!”
7. Cow Talk
by Darlene Daire
Hey, Billy who do you think is going to be next
on the chopping board
you know that bacon is on the rise
they put bacon on everything
but I will tell you this
this is why I am a vegetarian
my bacon will not taste as good
they will think twice when my bacon is on a plate
because it will look like veggies
that is why I am wearing a sign saying
this cow doesn’t eat meat, so don’t eat me
you can have my friend, Bob, he is nice and fat
8. Ordeal of a Stray Cow
by Lotus Tassel
My lily-white skin never tanned under sun
skimpy horns never sensed any sparky fun
I walked through the streets
to shackle my hunger strikes
for emerald farmlands
shunned me with wildlife fence
circus firms didn’t hire me
nor was I placed with the animals in zoo
sheds in farmhouses I saw
didn’t harbor the strays like me
but the garbage bins exhaling nauseous smell
never hesitated to offer me bread
gibbous and crescent moons
nourishing crippled nights
dragged me towards rosy pubescence
baneful storm thrashed that winter
my womb felt heavy with unrequested boon
with my waxing stomach I wandered
in search of roadside litter
plastics, nails and marble pieces
made its path towards my crumbling gut
fatigues and cramps swallowing the pregnant me
slowed my footsteps little by little
a car crashing against me
blinded my drooping eyes
“only death can relieve me now
only death can relieve me now”
a hospital bed greeted my next sunrise
barren belly felt light
while senses waited to see the new-born
unknown pain gripped my scarred veins
creeping breaths and sunken eyes
finally caressed “liberating death”.
9. How a Cow Puncher Rode
by Bruce Kiskaddon
I have often been asked by the people I knowed,
To tell ‘em the way that a cow puncher rode.
Now them cow hands they didn’t all ride jest the same.
They rode a’most every old style you could name.
Of course, most of the hands that was workin’ around,
Would ride with long stirrups, and straight up and down.
Some rode with ‘em medium, some rode with ‘em short.
In fact there was stirrups, and len’ths of all sorts.
I know of one feller that quarreled with his brother,
Because he rode with one stirrup longer than t’other.
Some stuck their laigs foreward and held their heels low.
Some held their laigs back and turned down their toe.
Some held their feet still, but some figity cuss
Would keep kickin’ his feet and makin’ a fuss.
There was some that set straight,
but there’s others that humped
Till they set on their hoss as a sort of a lump.
There was some of them riders kep’ close to their seat.
While others was half of the time on their feet.
Some bogged on the cantel and rode away back,
While others would jig like they rode on a tack.
There was some kep’ their elbows down close to their side.
And others ag’in that would let ‘em spread wide.
While some of ‘em flopped up their elbows so high,
You would think mebbyso they was tryin’ to fly.
There was them that would ride with their hand on the horn.
Some looked plum contented and some looked forlorn.
There was them, fer some reason I couldn’t explain,
Whirled a piece of their rope or the end of a rein.
There was some of them fellers set off to one side.
In fact I can’t tell how a cow boy did ride.
When I figger it out, there is only one guess.
They rode like they thought they could do it the best.
10. The Cow-Puncher’s Elegy
by Arthur Chapman
I’ve ridden nigh a thousand leagues upon two bands of steel,
And it takes a grizzled Westerner to know just how I feel;
The ranches dot the strongholds of the old-time saddlemen,
And the glory of the cattle days can ne’er come back again.
Oh, the creak of saddle leather–
Oh, the sting of upland weather
When the cowmen roamed the foothills and drove in ten thousand steers;
Through the years, back in the dreaming,
I can see the camp-fires gleaming,
And the lowing of the night-herd sounds, all faintly, in my ears.
There’s a checkerboard of fences on the vast and wind-swept range;
And the haystacks and the windmills make the landscape new and strange,
And the plains are full of farmers, with their harrows and their ploughs;
On the roadsides loiter kidlets, who are “driving home the cows!”
Oh, the quickly faded glory
Of the cowboy’s brief, brief story!
How the old range beckons vainly in the sunshine and the rain!
Oh, the reek of roundup battle
And the thund’ring hoofs of cattle–
But why dream a useless day-dream, that can only give one pain?
Where have gone those trails historic, where the herders sought the mart?
Where have they gone the saucy cow-towns, where the gunman played his part?
Where has gone the Cattle Kingdom, with its armed, heroic strife?
Each has vanished like a bubble that has lived its little life.
Oh, the spurs we set a-jingling,
And the blood that went a-tingling
When we rode forth in the morning, chaps-clad knights in cavalcade;
And the mem’ries that come trooping,
And the spirits, sad and drooping,
When the cowman looks about him at the havoc Time has made.
Sad Cow Poems
These poignant cow poems offer a glimpse into the deep emotions and feelings of these gentle creatures, exploring themes of loss and loneliness.
1. Oh Sacred Cow
by G. Vincent
If you ask me
India is the place to be
there cows are sacred
none are objects of hatred
there cows roam free
like Povich, Maurey
but are not married to Connie Chung?
2. Lonely Cow
by Thomas O Hagan
Lonely cow was morose, depressed, upset.
Someone had stolen his favorite pink hair net.
Many brought in a new one decorated so pretty.
They stayed and regaled him with jokes oh so witty.
Lonely cow felt less lonely this is true.
But he was determined to keep his attitude, he liked feeling blue.
3. I’m Sorry, Cow
by Deranged
My bovine friend, I apologize
But we need your milk and meat
I applaud your sense of status
Exchanging your life that humans eat
I live in a farm county myself
And understand your way
How y’all most go without a fight
Through life, purchase, and slay
The Dairy seem to have it easier
Milking every morning, bedding every night
But pulling on teats that aren’t mine
Doesn’t seem too polite
So heres to all the cattle out there
Who live for one thing in their life
I send you my best wishes
For your encounter with the knife
4. The Old Brown Cow
by Richard Phipps
On entering the milking shed
I found the old brown cow was dead
Laid beside her was a note
I opened it, here’s what she wrote
I’m sick and tired of your greed
and providing all you need
What do you give me in return
F–k all, for I’m of no concern
Out in the field both night and day
my fodder,nort but grass or hay
All thoughts of comfort you ignore
believing I deserve no more
Yet twice a day your callous hands
empty out my mammary glands
To steal the food that I provide
for my kids,who are denied
When I give birth you’re quick to take
my offspring turning them to steak
Or shoes and coats and even glue
all things of benefit to you
But I will have the final say
as no doubt you’ll find out today
Something that sets my mind at ease
I’m riddled with Mad Cow Disease
My children,they all had it too
so we’ll get our own back on you
Each time that you have steak for tea
you loading up with Cjd
5. Curious Cow
by Caren Krutsinger
Curious Cow was amazing in girth and color
She had not a gallop, more of a happy skip
Charging toward me in a semi-prancing way
I had been sitting in the pasture grass, sketching.
I saw her movement from my left eye, so I turned.
Her eyes were enormous; her visage open and curious.
I am drawing, I told her. Her face was inches above the fence.
Could she come through it? I had been told they will if they want.
See? I picked up my sketchpad and showed her my cartoon alien.
She stood there for a long time.
There was a bellow, which summoned her.
I searched for a calf, but never saw one.
I sketched a cow anyway, and wrote the word curious above her.
6. Berl’s Cow
by Rachel Korn
He sold the one-horned cow
and let the money blow through his fingers
like so much spiderweb.
Ever since, the stall has been empty
as the hole in a gum when a tooth is pulled,
the chain at the trough is rusty and cold,
and Berl’s children haven’t seen a spoonful of milk in the house
all winter.
When the woman next door milks her cow,
Berl’s children stand around her like chicks
around a mother hen.
Ten pairs of eyes staring eagerly
at the warm white streams.
Berl goes to the market in town every Monday,
pokes the cows, examines their teeth, and bargains.
But it’s always someone else who buys the cow.
Berl comes home
with a can of kerosene, kasha, and a sack of salt.
7. My Cow Has Gone
by David Lind
The neighbor’s cow
has gone away
mooing loud no more
I wonder where he went?
Perhaps a better home
in the south of France
le grassy paths to roam.
Let’s have some burgers
cook them on the grill !
sit on deck so we can
think about cow a bit!
Coolly eating grass
waiting for someone.
Cow with little thrill
trying to be chill.
I’m grateful for the way he helped
when Covid came around
no masks when we were together
just a nice brown cow.
Now I sit outside alone
gunshots from the woods
Sunday’s for the deer out here
reminds them to be good.
Lord, does Bill Gates
want my hide?
I’ve spent so much.
All of these computers
filling up the shed. ..
Now he wants to produce meat
and put strange stuff in it.
It is time to decide:
am I just a cow
or a fluffy sheep perhaps
waiting at the fence?
As they come around one day
with syringes and masks
new jacked up diseases
and screaming psychopaths.
Or will the woods
and Sunday service
be the way to go
with a hunting rifle
and a powerful scope?
Inquisitive neighbors
want to know
(don’t have a cow)
which way to go.
8. The Cow
by Bernard O Dowd
THIS is a rune I ravelled in the still,
Arrogant stare of an Australian cow—
‘These prankt intruders of the hornless brow,
Puffed up with strange illusions of their skill
To fence, to milk, to fatten and to kill,
Once worshipped me with temple, rite and vow,
Crowned me with stars, and bade rapt millions bow
Before what abject guess they called my will!
‘To-day, this flunkey of my midden, Man,
Throws child-oblations in my milking byre,
Stifles in slums to spare me lordly fields,
Flatters with spotless consorts my desire,
And for a pail of cream his birth-right yields,
As once in Egypt, Hellas, Ind, Iran!’
9. Amazing Top Model Cow
by Anonymous
I have to write a poem
And my teacher showed me how.
So I decided to make a rhyme
like Amazing Astro Cow.
Okay, I’ll write about a cow,
But she won’t put her milk in a bottle,
I think I’ll have to make her be,
A top model cow !
She’ll be a fashion victim
so she’ll be never do a crime.
She’ll be a great designer
and create clothes that will be shinier!
But she doesn’t know
she’ll be too big
for her show!
Final Thoughts
In conclusion, cow poems are a celebration of the gentle and cute creatures that have captured our hearts and imaginations for centuries.
They offer a unique perspective on the life and experiences of these beloved farm animals, exploring their beauty, charm, and simplicity.
From funny and lighthearted to serious and introspective, these poems offer a wide range of emotions and themes, making them accessible to readers of all ages and backgrounds.
Whether you’re a child or an adult, a farmer or a city dweller, these poems for cows can help you connect with the natural world and the beauty that surrounds us.
So pick up a cow poem today, and let these gentle creatures inspire you.
