There’s a horse that I so hate to see,
and at night sometimes he visits me.
His attacks to my thigh
make me think I might die.
Wild "Charley Horse" acts horribly.
For he comes out of nowhere, so fast!
And he brings a sharp pain like a blast.
I scream like a loon
hit by a harpoon.
Then my husband awakens aghast!
But my hubbie can’t help me. That horse,
though invisible, has such great force!
How I love my reprieves
when the little beast leaves.
But his kind never stays gone, of course!
My poor calf he attacked in a pool
while I swam, and I felt like a fool
as I floundered around.
Well, I could have drowned!
He’s a mean little horse and a ghoul.
He’s got kin, and they all like the game
of bringing folks pain. One has fame
of attacking your womb
in a hospital room.
Now THAT one puts Charley to shame!!
By Andrea Dietrich
(note to those who do not know this common
American expression: Charley Horse is a leg cramp
and all the his kin are assorted types of cramps!)
For PD's "Any Poem Goes" Contest
Limerick : Once a Dark Horse in a handicap
Once a Dark Horse in a handicap
Led head, tail and hoof in the last lap
All eyes on winning post
Cameras clicked the most
Horse lost in the negative, so clap !
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
(sorry, Tirzah, I could not do a nice long poem on horses.
I just felt like doing some silly limericks playing off expressions
for horses. Thanks for the inspiration!)
I Hate that Horse
There’s a horse that I so hate to see,
And at night sometimes he visits me.
His attack to my thigh
Makes me think I might die.
That Charly Horse acts horribly!
Horses Have Ears, Ya Know
“I could eat a horse!” hungry bob said
To his friends as he rode his horse, Ned.
Taking it the wrong way,
Ned reared up with a “neigh!”
Bob fell off and got kicked in the head.
“Pony up,” said the seamstress in town
With the new bride’s hand-sewn beaded gown.
But having no dough,
The bride cast her eyes low,
Saying, “Sorry, but my pony is down.”
In Our One Horse Town
We love ostriches. Haven’t you heard?
Yes, it’s true, and I give you my word
Just one old mare lives here.
Had no foals; she is queer.
So each cowboy just rides a bird!
For Tirzah's "A Horse is a Horse of Course" contest
A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!
Wast penned by The Bard of Avon of course!
Richard's steed Surrey lay dead
Slain by a crossbow 'tis said
Dick pled for another 'til he was hoarse!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
(Not for the contest)
There once was a skinny horse name George.
Poor ole soul lived alone in a gorge.
Three fit sheep came his way.
They were traded that day.
Matted, bony, his belly engorged.
Onward He forged, living on the brink.
I’ll save him, one young maiden did think.
Head hung; life was his game.
George, his infamous name.
She prayed; from his needs, she did not shrink.
George would not drink; lips were cracked and dry.
She asked God, “Please don’t let him die.”
Water was his kismet.
Sweet feed filled hope’s bucket.
She cut out mats; whisked away each fly.
Six months later, George was still alive.
Lips were moist; he ate; began to thrive.
With some flesh on his bones,
And relieved of his groans,
The day of her moving would arrive.
The time came when George had to be sold.
Half Arabian, not very old
The old trader’s capers,
You promised them, the young girl cajoled.
How could he live; does he have luster?
Papers lost; no death by distemper.
Confessions on that day,
The girl went away.
Compassion to the horse did whisper.
New owners bought him, his health still poor.
His price and potential was the big lure.
They quickly changed his name.
Greener pastures, the game.
Star’s beauty became his life’s encore.
© June 7, 2011
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: A Horse Story
Sponsored by: Carol Brown
(Based on a true story)
There was a dark Uisge from Loch Ness
who fancied a tasty Baroness,
he lured her astride
with the on coming tide
and all that was found was her dress.