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Death Horse Poems | Death Poems About Horse

These Death Horse poems are examples of Death poems about Horse. These are the best examples of Death Horse poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

They Hang Horses, Don't They

They Hang Horses, Don't They?

Once a strange structure appeared in a barn yard
difficult not to  notice
A scaffold to hang horses
for throwing their masters
Dumb and never protesting
they were led up the ramp
built like a stairway to heaven
There was never any 
last minute salvation
No 'Pegasus' wings that
sprouted from the withers
Hooves crossed on the chest 
each was duly blest
and I wonder if each
mistook the noose for
a lasso around its neck
With one somb're bell a'ringing
The hangman pulled the lever
'There are no last minute requests
for horses being executed'

Justice done again?
yet it seems
in the equine world
hanging has served 
as no deterrant
Inherant in all horses
is an urge to 
throw their masters.


Details | Cowboy | |

I'll Go a Ridin' No More

I’ll go a ridin’ no more through blue stem or chaparral,
Just lead my horse to pastures of green.
I’ll watch those rose ruby suns ease on past the ol’ corral—
Think back on the things I’ve done and seen.

Oh, you can’t go on a ridin’ for all your livelong days—
You’ve got to know when to settle down.
You’ll gently pet your ol’ horse as you put her out to graze
And soon life won’t seem so bad in town.

But when blue bonnets and the high plains send their callin’ card,
Your restless feet start to feel that itch.
Then it don’t matter if you’re stove-up or your butt is lard—
That feelin’ calls to the poor and rich.

Just once more I’ll go a ridin’ in the sorrel and sage—
Testin’ my ol’ horse for all it’s worth.
And I know that time cannot stop me, even at my age,
From ridin’ free of the reins of earth. 


Details | Rhyme | |

In the Meadow

In the Meadow, I hear a POP!
Drip Drop , Drip Drop!
I can't seem to hear the Clip, Clop!
So off I run with a little Hip-Hop!


In the Meadow, I hear a POP!
Drip Drop, Drip Drop!
As I near, my Heartbeat gives a Stop!
My Stomach does the tightest Flip-Flop!

In the Meadow, I hear a POP!
Drip Drop, Drip Drop!
I howl on seeing the Butcher's Shop!
Onto the Meadow grass, I Slip-Slop!

To Witness the Unbearable Chop!
Blood of my Horse, Drip Drop!


Details | Free verse | |

They Shoot Horses, Don't They?

To  tame a horse in freezing winter 

One plays a childish "hide and seek" 

Caress its mane with future spring 

and kiss the hazel moist with love.


Distract its pain with sandy gallops 

Along the turquoise dreams of freedom 

And while you heal the reddish wound 

Recount the legend of the horse with wings.

 
There won't be saddles only clouds 

That sometimes shed rainbows of tears 

As darkness falls on killing fields 

My soul is neighing as echoes cry...

www.scripca.com


Details | Rhyme | |

The Four Horsemen of the Amockalypse

At the sound of the first horn, the joke becomes ill,
And there is just no amount of comedic skill,
That can hide its indecency, but try he will,
And despite its poor taste, he will use it still.

Upon the second horn, The Heckler appears,
And the joke is now met with insensitive jeers,
“Is that all you’ve got?!” he does scoff as he sneers,
And upon confrontation he sits there and leers.

The third horn is sounded and Silence arrives,
And of applause and of laughter he cruelly deprives,
Starving the joke of the food he derives,
From the merriment upon which every joke thrives.

The last horn is sounded and the final death stroke,
Is dealt upon our poor unfortunate joke,
He lets out a wheeze and gives a small choke
And at last did our poor whimsy finally croak.

‘Tis the end of the line for our jolly old friend,
And there is no amount of first aid that could mend,
The injuries to what the comedian penned,
For our tired joke has met its sweet end.


Details | Free verse | |

Apocalypse Risen

Moon light impotent Stables darkness impenetrable For only the horseman may enter Those without souls do find their way World will end by hand of few men Those incompetent of compassion and caring The ones who look out only for their heir While suffering and strife consume A time will come when the mass will form Breaking the barriers, seemingly impervious Where all may have what they do need Water, love, home and seed Until such time, which may never appear Stables darkness will remain Its halls quite For the four horses are being ridden today


Details | Couplet | |

Death Rides

Death rides a horse coal black-
Thee must know you shall not slack-

Run away, his red flame mane-
Unto all it is in vain-

For unto death, knows no laws-
Cannot tell, humanly flaws-

He rides in darkness every night-
Vain it is to run or fight-

Death rides a horse coal black-
Thee must know you shall not slack-


Details | Verse | |

Black Carriage

Death's dark angel
Black carriage drives
Collecting lives
Final rewards

The carriage has
Matching horses
Pulling courses
All of them black

Death follows you
All of your life
Toil and strife
Can't escape Him

When it's their time
They all object
There's no respect
Everyone dies

Thanatos rides
The Banshees cry
Valkyries fly
None of them care



Mark Halliday
Ride a Pathya Vat contest - Carriage theme
5 Aug 2014


Details | Quatrain | |

Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse

War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s the price o’ life.
Famine comes upon black horse 
fillin the gullet o’ Deaythe’s strife.

War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s the price o’ life
Power swings War’s blood red swuird
the weak an’ the old suffice.

War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s the price o’ life.
Conquest raises mighty bow
crownin’ Kings with rare delight.

War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s just the price o’ life
on pale horse the banshee rides
binna matter what your fief.

In deayth we fertilize the field
Life is aw an’ Deaythe's real.

*In the style of Robert Burns


Details | Rhyme | |

SMOKING PRESSURE

waiting to be a part of the group,
just ending up at the tail of the joint.
bad habits gone wild;
broken promises and lies,
brooding and waiting that never dies.
built up bottles of pressures,
not too sure where it comes from.
complexity of self-denial complex!!!
roads ending up nowhere:
trials just trying your patience,
looking forward to the beginning,
but not the end........
still struggling after being broken,
or the pressures of not having experience.
redeemful of dim chaos,
so strange that this is not all because of this.
not to mention a loser so lost,
still trying to find life's meaning.
too bad the joy can't subside the hurt................


Details | Cowboy | |

Border's End

I did not drive the roan that day,
Just saddled up my old dark bay,
To check out fences far afield
And breathe in life with all its yield.

Near border’s end I came upon
A fresh, dead cow down by the pond.
I wondered why it had died here
With water and spring grass so near.

I spurred my horse and reined away
But something said that I should stay—
I creaked down from my saddle’s reach
And saw the cow had died in breech.

I knew they should be buried soon,
By light of day or dark of moon. 
I left them there, that calf and cow
And rode back home in thought somehow.

I had forgot that scene of death
Till summer quickly took my breath
And once again I passed that shell
Of twisted skin and faded smell.

The worms had done their work it seems 
On frenzied flesh and faltered dreams.
Yet, still I stared like at a grave—
Thought how we took but seldom gave.

Then autumn came and tinted trees
With colors each low creature sees.
So on my horse I sought them out,
To answer what this life’s about.  

A mute Madonna—sticks of bone,
Still nestled there so all alone.
We live and die, the season’s dawn,
We’re all breech born before we’re gone.

In winter’s wind the world turns cold
As cow and calf and man grow old.
Yet, now there’s no sinew or hide 
To hint of life or what’s inside.

Death’s passion passed and so did I
To pay respects and say goodbye.
For man and beast all die as kin—
I will not ride this trail again.

 




Details | I do not know? | |

Glory

This is the story of a beautiful horse named Glory Freckled and spotted She stood but a twig Lost in a forest Of abandonment Tires and barbwire Surround her by day And at night she suffers The coyotes cries, not far away Left with no food Or water to drink She stands by a tree And hopes for relief Halter grown in And hooves overgrown Not a grain in that belly And left all alone Withering quick She stands by her tree And hopes a kind soul Will help her to see There is life still No matter how grim Things seem from beneath This horrid, old tree This halfhearted twig Awaits her relief As the days pass her by And she writhes with grief Her name is Glory All freckled with spots Like a giant Dalmatian Trapped in this spot At the end of her lead She was finally freed Not a day too soon She'll now find relief Halfhearted no longer And happy at last Whom once was a twig Knows Glory at last Halfhearted no longer And free from that mess Glory has found relief At Horse Creek Ranch* *Horse Creek Ranch is, to the best of my knowledge, a fictional name.


Details | Ballad | |

The War Part 2

NOON

The infantry open up for the cavalry
At full horse power speed they attack
Too late to use artilleries now
But it made some horses tumble, about a fifty
Six hundred horse ran to the infantry

Infantry too late for squares ran to the cavalry
They fired there muskets, brought down some sixty horses
It was the time of the cavalry lances where release
Unlike arrows it killed two at a time. The cavalry ran 
On the infantry. Head out of necks, arms out of scapulas, and legs out of hips.

The whole army retreats, they send their whole cavalry
Cavalry meets cavalry. One thousand lances released on a four hundred
Horrible! Men were carried from horses to horses, lances
Horse were raise up high, neighs turn to roars, lances
Now nine hundred and fifty to sixty, the opposite retreat.

The colonel seeing the sixty running ordered a chase. Fool!
The opposite's Brigadiers laughs, he ordered his brigade
To get ready. After their sixty drove in
The infantry made squares. At their captain's orders.
Salvo's were head, two thousand shots on a nine hundred and fifty.

Sympathetic bullets entered heads and hearts horses tumbled
They caused confusion, de-horse horsemen ran back.
It was only a ninety that penetrated killing a forty
Twenty horsemen retreated with wounds
There was silence, scout men where sent to count losses


Details | Quatrain | |

Fowr Horsemen of the Apocalypse

War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s the price of life.
Famine’s black horse 
fills the gullet of Deaythe’s strife.

War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s the price of life
Power swings Wars red sword
the weak an’ young suffice.

War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s the price of life.
Conquest raises its mighty bow
crowning Kings with delight.

War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s is just the price of life
on pale horse the banshee rides
no matter the what your fief.

We are the fertilzer of the field
for life is all and deayth is real.


Details | Free verse | |

Ghost Soldier Part 1

He was there, He told me so!
On that cloudy morning a few years ago,
When a shaft of light from the Montana sky
Fell on his grave and caught my eye.
The raindrops that fell as if tears from the sky
Were quickly absorbed by the earth where he lie.
And he told me, He did, in his very own words
Of those days on the trail and his last day on earth.

"Dust, dust--- two, three or is it four days of this damned cussed dust. It seemed 
an eternity since we left the Rosebud. Why the urgency it was beyond me, but 
when it came to the Indian Custer seemed to have a special mission known only 
to himself.
Push, push, they just kept on pushing us. The horses were caked and white with 
the infernal dust. Even my neckerchief failed to keep the dust from my lungs. I 
was fighting for breath when a halt was called. As I stepped down a lizard 
skittered away from the rock where he had been sunning himself. I looked at 
Tom as he loosened the girth on his saddle trying to give his horse a breather. It 
was laboring for air and blood was in evidence in the foam at the corner of his 
mouth. It had been in a battle the month before and was issued to Tom as a 
replacement for his lame animal. This poor animal wasn’t going to make it much 
farther.
I looked at my horse and decided I’d better check him over while I had a chance. 
He’d been there for me last month as we raced away from a group of renegades 
trying to lift our scalps. When it comes down to life and death all we have are 
each other. I gave him some grain and a much needed but sparse drink. Our 
supplies were following a safe distance behind us, so all we had were saddle 
rations. The spring grass was just beginning to work it’s way thru the earth 
towards the warming rays of the sun. The nights still held the winter chill and yet 
the days seemed insufferably hot. Such a contrast this land presented. You 
either froze to death or you were burned and blistered as if in the fires of hell.
I brushed the damned sand from Poker and checked each hoof for damage. It 
was hard to tell where we’d be next, traveling ankle deep in sand or slipping and 
sliding our way over the loose rocky ground. Satisfied my mount was taken care 
of I removed my neckerchief and dipped it into the few drops of precious water 
Poker couldn’t get. Even it was hot to the touch. The only relief was the cooling 
breeze as it immediately absorbed the moisture from my skin.


Details | Narrative | |

Apache's Final Thoughts

Indignant, his head hung low, eyes glassy, all he has is his memories.
Within the pain he can no longer tolerate, within the hundreds of enmeshed bodies…
Stinking and rotting.
All he has is his memories.
Escaping the frightful screams of death and the smell of blood,
He is remembering his fist love. He was so young, as was she.
Beautiful girl, kind hands, sweet voice and a carrot ever present in her pocket.
They rode and rode, hundreds of miles through trails and streams, as one
They loved each other’s company. Then a day came when she never showed.
He didn’t understand…but he could sense something wrong. SHE was gone.
Never coming back.
Then came a man, callous of hand,  took him- roughly. He didn’t understand.
Pushed into a trailer, his feet fell through the rusted bottom- PAIN…
The man whipped him into another place. He stood bleeding as they drove away.
Arriving to a place. So cold, no lush grass, tiny area, no place to run and frollick-
The MAN took him out of the trailer, bleeding hocks and all- shuffled him into a barn
where the stench was raw. Threw a huge, heavy, ill fitting saddle upon his back. This man,
A Goliath even to this horse, pulled the cinch so tight he could not breathe.  A bit
shoved in his mouth.
OUCH! A spade splitting his tongue- the huge man grabbed a whip and jumped right on.
“I’ll teach you not to be a WOMANS’ horse. You are now mine- you will be a MANS’ horse, and
Work like a horse should!” Shouting, the MAN spurred the horse into action- foot bleeding
the entire time.
The spade biting into his tongue, the horse raised his head, only to be beat between the
ears- the MAN was furious.  Flying round and round they went-
   This cruelty, this circus continued for many years. He was broken of leg and spirit at
the age of ten- whence upon the MAN called the “Meat guy”, and for a few hundred this
horse was sent to his end.
He stood in the corral of death awaiting his turn, for the bolt to shoot into his brain
and slide  down the conveyor belt.
   He remembered his first love during the last few seconds- her spirit came to him…
“Join me Apache, my beautiful mount, in Heaven we will be together where no one can hurt us…
FOREVER!” 
He didn’t know what the words meant- but he knew his love was there to save him… he left
the crippled body behind and joined his true love before the cleaver sliced him apart.

*This is written for the thousands of horses sent to slaughter each year.
A. Green


Details | Free verse | |

Nightmare

Black horse riding on the night,
Red eyes gleaming, parody of blood moon,
Warhorse, armored with steel, ready for war,
Sky horse, living in the world above,
Dawn of night, his name is called,
Nightmare, come, 
The black horse rides down our of the sky,
To the black armored warrior below.

Together Nightmare rides to battle with his master,
Intelligence burning in his crimson eyes,
A nightmare going to war.

Screams ring out in the air, over the bloody battlefield,
The war had begun and Nightmare rejoices,
Trampling and kicking enemies to death,
Nightmare goes to war.


Details | I do not know? | |

The White Horse

The white horse had just died a lonely death

His rider was crucified as if he were the coming of the 2nd

May the one who killed the innocent form of justice

Be the one to carry the weight of grim until pressed

The rider was sent on a mission to relieve the chosen one

The one was chosen and brought to the black hill to wait

He waited for you.....me.....us.....but we failed him

We have not committed ourselves to the savior of good

We have only one last chance to rid evil for before spilled blood

If this is the chosen ones ways to allow us to view

What we need to turn us away from the few

For our lack of committment and honour to the wise

Left the white horse and its rider in sure lifeless demise

The one who killed the beast and his proud man

Was the ones who will kill the future of this tiring land

It was not of evil that rid there energy

If was you.....me.....us.....that failed priest to hold her

Try to sleep with peace even though the burdon in on YOUR shoulders


Details | I do not know? | |

Game of Chess

Along came a black horse
rider non existent
fire in his eyes life no longer
see the devil smile as his horse grew younger
see the devil cry as his horse grew fonder
sat a lonely boy in his path
eyes of water lit to wrath
boy stood up as wings were cast
the dark horse turned grey as light did pass
see the angel smile as the boy grew older
see the angel smile as the boy grew wonder
horse came a halt eyes still a glaze
boy flew above the dark horses maze
fire from his eyes erupted through the air
the boy inhaled as the fire turned to tears
the young boy now a man
the fire inside him as turned his hand
from giving to a fist no longer will stand
as the horse now in air flying with the man
the waltz of life now on demand
the man and horse now riding through land
turn to each others repromand
the boy grew dark and eyes now steam
the horse grew white and wings through the beam
see the devil smile as his horse won the fight
see the angels smile as their boy won the might


Details | Rhyme | |

Clem

When Clem finally made it into town
Leading his horse and swearing
The townfolk looked at him askance
But, Clem totally wasn't caring

He had walked the last five miles
His horse had thrown a shoe
Walking wasn't his favorite sport
But, there was nothing else to do
 
He was mighty hungry
His throat was desert dry
He planned to get a juicy steak
And great, big, bottle of rye
 
He left his horse with the smithy
Then walked across the street
He decided to quench his thirst
Before he went to eat
 
Trina was dancing in the saloon  that day
A lady so sweet and fair 
With silver buckles on her shoes
And rhinestones  in her hair
 
Clem felt his heart skip a beat
And knew he had fallen in love
He didn't realize he was staring
Til a big man gave him a shove
 
"That's my woman", the big man said
"So, put your eyes back in their socket"
And without the slightest warning
Drew a derringer from his pocket
 
Clem tried to leave without a fight
But the big man stood in his way
Just one shot was all it took
To kill Clem that day
 
The marshal arrested the big man
Clem was buried on Boot Hill
The smithy auctioned off his horse
To pay his funeral bill
 
WhenTrina left town soon after that
She wanted to say goodbye
So she left a rose on poor Clem's grave
And a great, big, bottle of rye


Details | Cowboy | |

Riding Down the Decline

The plains have their moments of wild beauty
As you ride with morning wind in your hair---
The sage and wide open spaces thrill you
As you ride free on that celestial stair.

But the hill country is another thing,
Although you and your horse start out just fine—
You both have to carefully watch your step
As you ride down that steady old decline.

At first, you don’t really notice a change—
A misstep or a small ache in your back—
Then you sense you can’t do things you once did
And to your thinking there’s a certain lack.

Oh, you can still out ride all those young dudes
And you’re still relied on in a real pinch—
But your step’s a little slower these days
And you give slack when once you gave no inch.

Gone are the days of those endless trail rides—
Your tail bone ain’t the rock it used to be—
You’d rather be riding soft rocking chairs,
Than on the range where it’s rough and still free.

So you slow up your horse on that ride down
And look ahead to the clouds and sunshine—
As you steady your reigns and your old horse
And slowly ease down that long last decline.  


Details | Cowboy | |

Shadow Cowboy

Who was that tall cowboy I saw ridin’ by the door?
He seems just like some shadow that I’ve seen before.
He shimmers in the twilight – he was here and then gone—
Just a shadow cowboy like the horse he rides upon.

It seems we never saw him when things were at their best,
But things just don’t stay that way out here in the West.
Some say he’s a vaquero that died out on this land 
By way of some injustice that no one understands.

When maw came down with fever as hot as burnin’ Hell,
We heard spur chains outside and found water from the well.
And in a fleetin’ glance I saw him when maw died—
But I was just mistaken ‘cause cowboys never cried.

Who was that tall cowboy I saw ridin’ by the door?
He seems just like some shadow that I’ve seen before.
He shimmers in the twilight – he was here and then gone—
Just a shadow cowboy like the horse he rides upon.

I never saw him again till fall took paw away—
And in he came a ridin’ without a word to say.
Or was it just a shadow that flickered on the hill?
Or that dark shadow cowboy that came to sap our will?

He is gone now forever – of him I do not speak—
I do not see him at the door or down by the creek.
But pains and aches are heavy and life is just not fair—
Before I turn ‘round, I know his shadow will be there.

Who was that tall cowboy I saw ridin’ by the door?
He seems just like some shadow that I’ve seen before.
He shimmers in the twilight – he was here and then gone—
Just a shadow cowboy like the horse he rides upon.