Over the hillsides, together we burned space and time
Galloping with the wind...
Clouds took me by the hand,
Wind took you by the mane
Nothing outside our world could rival this perfect blend
Of motion, devotion, the sunshine and scented rain
I would close my eyes, and trust in the rhythm's rise
O' beautiful creature, your movements touched the very sky
Every stride, would sweep me to another world
Unfurled so far from all my childhood fears
As runaway dreamers,
we sprinted into the future of timeless memory
and heard the infinite past at the heels of your enchanted hoof
Where ancestors once felt this very connection
At one with nature, a blending of what is blessed
In the deep evening light of the first early, wintery chill,
as a comet that shoots through the eye of an in-coming storm
We were crystals, encased in a layer of ice and love
Just a trace of a moon, that sailed between the soft, leaden clouds
In the thrill of the cold, with the glorious snowflakes falling,
and the sight of your warm breath streaming,
there was white drifting smoke, in caress of the moonlight beaming
Indented, undefined, is a trail left behind
Such a moment is proof.... in all legends divine
That when snow falls around the hills, at the end of the day,
Nothing can erase that we passed this way
We were the messengers...that rode with the wind
That the hearts of species as wide as the universe
With spirits connecting two souls as one
Hearts can beat as one....drawn together, like poetic and timeless music
I am part of you....and you are part of me
And that both hearts can feel the same remorse when day is done
In memory of "Queenie".... an amazing Sorrel Quarterhorse,
who was born, at home, in our barn, and lived for 32 years
For the Contest: "PETS", sponsored by Shadow Hamilton 11/13/14
Copyright © Carrie Richards
Oh how I wish
I could set free
the native American Indian
with pride and dignity
taking them back
across the great open plains
to their sacred home
in the lush green vallies
where buffalo are plentiful
so the Indians can live in peace
one with nature once more
where the eagles soar
setting them free as the wind
wild untameable as a magnificent stallion
running toward the setting sun.
Copyright © Peter Dome
An Angelo Arab, you had immense spirit
dappled grey with a huge leap over fences.
Your stable name was Tom, pedigree name
too much of a mouthful for every day use.
In your stable you were a terror to my grooms
pulling faces and hunching up your back as if
to bite or even kick. It was all show you just
wanted to be left alone, a true one person horse.
No other could ride you as you would buck and buck
even going down and rolling to get rid of other riders.
Shoes could be a challenge as you would snatch feet away
or refuse to lift them up, only one blacksmith did you tolerate.
Yet to me and my mother you were so sweet, nickering
a welcome when you saw either of us coming.
You floated over fences winning us many rosettes
when turned out you would race down the jumping lane.
With Sheroake at your heels laughing with glee
you would go up and down time and again.
Then take delight in having a long dusty roll
finally settling down to graze the sweet grass.
Fast as a flash, the clock never a challenge
perfect rounds nearly every single time.
In one year you went from grade C to grade A
barely 14:3 hands tall yet heart of a giant.
You always held a special place in my heart
many the hours we spent together out riding
or practicing in the paddock, at dressage
you were a real ace act graceful as a swan.
Tom sweet Tom how I loved you
maybe the more as only I alone
on your back you would tolerate
your love made me feel so proud
Great spirit horse long may you race
the clouds where you now dwell
If I close my eyes I can still hear
the thundering of hooves flying by.
Never again was there a horse
quite like you. I remember your neat
little ears flickering back and forth
as I spoke to you, with a nicker you
would answer me and toss your head.
Copyright © Shadow Hamilton
Learnt by the pang of fear
Oh Trojan horse thou art fair
So fearful and hard to near
Your presence!A dread even to air
Leading to an ancient unknown fence
Creating anguish in the ambience
Like a mad dog thou locate
Your way to doom or heaven's gate
Vigour in you aint got an end
For strong art thou till the end
Of world and world beyond thy tend
Copyright © Wright Bankole
Imagine the joy! A word from the east
Delivered by pony express,
I ride into town on this nag of a beast
Fetching mail for my humble address.
Imagine the miles! Stretched far 'cross the plain
One rider, horse, saddle and bag,
Crouched o'er the withers, nose close to the mane
Spurred to relay before they might flag.
Imagine the hand! Crossed over the reins
As one man pulls back on the bit,
Another spurs on, fast and far 'cross the plains
Thus defining the truth in true grit.
Imagine the thrill! Mail passed hand to hand
From rider, to office, to nag,
Far west came my missive; a tip of my hat!
To the rider, horse, saddle and bag.
Copyright © Tom Hitt
Ode To Romanova - A Good Horse
Romanova is a good horse;
truly one of a kind;
Her story I will tell you
if so you are inclined.
She'd the look of a racehorse;
tall of stature, red of hue;
With Power and beauty;
I thought, a winner through and through.
But her mind had been a-scatter,
Headstrong, rambunctious and wild,
Until a bond we created
My God, it took a while.
An understanding grew between us,
Like no one else could do,
A Love and respect had blossomed
that was both strong and true.
One day she came onto the track;
With a gleam in her eye;
and a flare to her nostrils
But her odds, they were high.
She broke from the gate;
and ran like a train;
Passed horse after horse;
oh boy, did she gain!
The jockey said "Let's go, girl"
Her name all did call;
There she charged out in front;
Ahead of them all.
Stride after stride;
her lead grew down the lane.
She was first past the wire;
the wind blowing through her mane.
Prancing back home;
A proud look on her face;
Clearly she knew;
She was "Winner of the Race".
That sweet taste of victory
made her always yearn for more
To fly like the wind...,
That's what she had been born for
With each win she walked more nobly,
More confident, assured and satisfied.
The little-girl-scared, was now a champion,
We stood victorious together, she and I, side by side.
Copyright © Dana Vacca