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Introspection Horse Poems | Introspection Poems About Horse

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

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Details | Sestina | |

Death Undignified

The summer sun was high. The heat was oppressive.
A whalebone corset dug into my body's tender parts.
Peering from the shop, my hand touches the pane
of dearly brought glass it vibrates with the hoof-beat of riders.
The weak, blue-sky pales, clouding over with the dust. 
Children playing hoop, let it drop with an unheard clatter.

Inside Fort Laramie’s provisioner, Mrs. Dreary's dropped-plate clatters.
Outside, a thunder of hoofs race pell-mell through heat, oppressive.
“Indians!” Children run through the street's miasma of dust.
Folks in wagons and on horseback flee for other parts.
“Sioux,” I nod. Gunshots ring through the air savaging the riders.
The shopkeeper’s wife babe in arms runs up the stairs, baby screams in pain.

Arrow flights buzz by shattering the shop's window panes.
The Indians leap from horse back to tile roof raising a clatter.
Mr. Dreary reaches for his Sharp shooter and aims at the riders.
A cat’s eye marble falls from the toy display, a mundane oppression.
Dreary slams shut the door, shards of glass scatter, bullet parted.
“Mame, git away from that window! Gener’l Connor’ll kill me if y’ur dusted.”

My eyes, now black and hollow as a barn owl's, tear, full of dust.
“Damn heathens,” Mr. Dreary cusses as bullets fly through broken panes.
He pulls me behind him and opens the useless glass door. “Thop” an arrow parts
his scalp. He falls back, landing beside me,his spurs clattering.
The baby screams again. I turn to see Mrs. Dreary's oppressive
grip on the child. “He’s dead.” She says grabs the Sharp and kills the next rider.

The soldiers finally arrive and chase the mongrel band of riders.
Mrs. Dreary, babe in one arm, Sharp in the other, kicks the marble in the dust.
She walks through the door, out of one carnage into another type of oppression,
the soldiers are executing the Sioux braves. Children watch in pain.
Across the street a lone warrior perches. A roof tile clatters
to the dirt. His arrow flies and a soul is parted.

Falling with blind numbness, forward, down, parting
the water in the horse trough left for the riders.
My brass buttons and flint arrowhead scrape the tub clattering,
no one in the street notices my departing in the day's dust.
My open mouth fills with bile and the rancid taste of pain.
“How improper,” was my last lucid thought, truly oppressive.

A clatter of hoofs rocks my parting.
The oppression, of man against man leaves, with the riders.
Only dust and the pain of the living remain.



Details | Haiku | |

mimic

black horse mimics
zebra's every move
Can they outrun the sun?


please view:
http://www.moillusions.com/2008/05/national-geographics-shadow-zebras.html

3


Details | Light Poetry | |

The Horse and The Lion

" The Horse and The Lion ... "

(From The Solomon Studies Series)
(Eccl. 3: 11 / Prov. 6: 6 / Matt. 6: 26, 28, 29)


The Horse and The Lion
Both Have Beautiful Manes

The Horse and The Lion
Both Stand Up To Powerful Claims

The Horse and The Lion
Both Rule Where They Range

The Horse and The Lion
Both Have Battled On The Plains

Tho' One Neighs Shrilly and The Other Roars!
One Is A Mighty Hunter / The Other Rides To Wars!

Tho' One Has Teeth & Claws, Like Sharp Talons
Everyone Bewares The Hooves & Ground of Wild Stallions

The Horse and The Lion
Both Are Like Muscled, Courage Unchained

Yet The Horse, Eats Oats and Hay
and Sweet Apples and Grain

And One Day, GOD Said
... Lions Will Do The Same

Both The Noble Horse & The Pride of Lions
GOD Made Them Man's Super Adventure-Trains


                 Written & Copyrighted ©:  1/7/2014
                         by:  MoonBee  Canady

_________________________________________

Growing up in West Texas (oh yeah, I love horses) ... 
there was a riding ranch that opened up near my family's 
home. So, I've ridden horses ever since I was in my early
teens.

I came to appreciate that the horse is a sensitive, noble
and beautiful creature.  Hence, I felt I had to state my
affinity and admiration for this unique beast, (not just 
with one poem but two) 

The horse has been in such close association with man 
and mankind's history ... So that is why I wrote the posts
enumerating the qualities of the magnificent creature
that is the horse ...

Now, I'm not the greatest equestrian (by any
means, but I've got a good seat for riding (lol)

And if you do, find yourself on a sunny day, with time
on your hands, take a leisurely ride on a horse and you'll 
be hooked for life (I know I am) (All you Horse-Riders
out there, know what I'm talking about, I know)

Hope readers enjoy ...

MoonBee


Details | Free verse | |

Spirit of Horse and Man

The rider accepts the horse and the horse accepts the man.
No man rides a horse… It’s a dance in poise and symmetry as one.
Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump
The power is felt in the movement as the horse stretches out its gate.
The muscles move beneath the man with power waiting to escape.
Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump
The fluidity of the gate is matched by the fluidity of the man.
The nostrils flair in both… The dance has just begun…
Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump
If they do not work together… They will not work at all.
The horses’ mane like the mans’ hair, is held tight in the flowing wind.
Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump
With each step they take… A balance must be struck.
For every step they take… Their intent must be as one.
Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump
The spirit of the horse must merge with the spirit of the man.
Together they merge in a symbiotic relationship as old as horse and man.
Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump
Feel the movement… Feel the power… Feel each muscle as it moves.
Feel each breeze unfold… Feel their hearts and souls as they meld as one.
Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump
Point to counter point… The man doesn’t own the horse or the horse the man.
What looks so easy is not a simple thing as they travel forth as one.
Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump
The connection is tightly woven. This spirit of Horse and man.
Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump
And with each ride together they will meld again as one…
Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump


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 | Light Poetry | |

Rodeo

Rodeo complete no 111

The stage is set in the arena 
 People gathered all around
Big show the today
The rodeo is in town

Every one with hopes 
They all are coming in 
Its time to start 
Let the rides begin

 Practicing every day
 Sun down to sun rise
 I really need to  
Win first prize

  Mamma is getting sick
The doctor don’t know why
Said take her to Montgomery
Or she will sorely die

 Tell her it will be ok
I am going to win today
Then get all the medicine 
To take her pain away


Did my self proud 
Reach the last round
Bronco and stallions 
I rode as they come along

Comes down to me 
And the rancher’s son
He never rides fair 
I feel something’s wrong

He rode a bronco
And he score and eight 
Then he looks at me
Before I came out the gate

The horse lose the hind legs
 Fell bleeding on the ground
As I ride out the chute
Dead from a bullet wound


And he won the prize
And I was disqualified
Bury her under the Sycamore 
The day my mamma died

Will never ride a rodeo again
As I give my horse some grass
Feel the good guys 
Will always come last

Will sell this place
 Go to New York City
Meet a green eyes girl
And start a family


Details | Rhyme | |

Introspection

Are you lying in the bed you made
Or lying through your teeth
Are you praying for a better day
Or preying on the weak

Are you giving the world everything you have
Or taking from it what you can
Are you working on building relationships
Or always fighting against the man

Do you look for the good in everyone
Or look to everyone for the goods
Do you give one hundred and ten percent
Or not even do the things you should

Do you think about the things you say
Or always say the things you think
When you lead a horse up to the water
Do you force that horse to drink

We make choices every day
With ramifications far and wide
Please take precautions not to hurt
Those along with you on the ride


Details | Cowboy | |

Partners With the Wind

It is an ancient ancestry;
A horse hoof and man’s hand —
A primal link back to the sea—
Blood brother to the land. 

It is spring’s end for brandin’ now,
You stop and take a break—
But are you master or the cow?
This life’s more give than take.

You lean back slow, now at your ease
To saddle leather squeak—
As lowing sun grazes the trees
To find the breeze you seek. 

You know that those who share the land
Now seem too far and few—
But one thing that you understand,
Is that you’re far from through.

You know stampedin’ years won’t dim
This life that so few chose—
Freedom’s just like a far off rim
That we too often lose.

Yet, still the range rides in your heart;
Your soul is what it steals—
And then you’re right back at the start—
With wind beneath your heels.

The world throws you and has its say—
It’s sadness mixed with joy—
But still you know it’s a great day
Just to be a cowboy.

Yes, horse and man live their seasons,
They know all things must end—
Yet they linger for those reasons—
Close partners with the wind.


Details | Free verse | |

Pegasus, The Legend

Sprouting full-formed 
From the crimson life blood 
Of a snake eyed medusa, 
That succulent seducer, 
The white horse shook his 
Glittering diamond wings and 
Wild mane that sung 
Of untamed adventures and 
Lost prophecies

Reigning the skies with 
Giddy joy and bliss, 
He came to land, 
Enticed by a golden bridle 
Wielded by a princely hero
Bellerophon

Singing his praise and 
Carrying him through the 
Winding canyons and 
Glacial seas 
That were the home of 
The fire-breathing chimera, 
The epitome of chaos rising

Carrying his rider to a 
Flawless victory and above 
And beyond to a 
High flying adventure, 
The hero rode his 
Glittering white horse 
To the high mountain, 
A godly matter at hand

The skies opened and Zeus 
Hurled his thunder, 
Tossing the princely hero 
To the still ground, 
Forcing him to 
Roam the earth, 
A melancholy wanderer, 
While his white steed 
Ascended to the heavens 


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.