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Best Horse Poems

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Charlie, the blind horse and Jack, the goat by theKidster, SillyBilly
The Run-Away Horse by Sankey-Lewis, Iris
The Dark Horse by alexander, nick
Odysseus' Horse by Ackerman, Stuart
A HORSE by grewal, jasmine
Horse of Course by Johannes, Edward
a horse story by hansen, jan oskar
a horse story by hansen, jan oskar
Horse racing by seal, george

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The Best Horse Poems

Details | Horse Poem | |

Fool of Infinite and Queen of Fate

Fool of Infiniti

A wanton bird pecks at the stars
A Jester peers through crystal bars
This prison of love with rainbow hue
Illusion parts to lets you through

On dragon wings forever free
You quest into your dreams to see
Smoke and mirrors and shadow haze
To guide you through an endless maze

Slow motion tear rolls down her cheek
Its only passion that you seek ?
Engulfed in strange duality.
She wonders her reality

Your eyes still mock her with desire
Your kisses light her inner fire
Your touch can melt her to your will
But you will never take your fill

Black widow spider guards your heart
She spun the web, she keeps it taut
It is your only fatal flaw.
A secret, silent metaphor.

And all about her swirl the dreams
The nightmares all with voiceless screams
And in her hand the strangest key
To fit the door of What Will Be ?

And when her eyes search yours again
You take her to the spider den
You spin the dreams she hopes to see
And lock your hearts in mystery.

So enter in to lick the flame
Eternal prisoner of the game
Illusion is false imagery
She whispers your Infinity

The Queen of Fate

The Queen of Fate by the outer Gate
Her carriage to Nowhere, will await
Her cloak is wrapped against the night
Her eyes are wide with peculiar fright

Gray horses eyes turn back in fear
With thunderclaps upon her ear
Blue jagged lightning points the way
Along the path to yesterday

Cold, sullen driver cracks his whip
His crooked smile curls round his lip
His horses leap the cruel abyss
Dark Queen of Fate sees none amiss

Above the mist a gate appears
Who will wipe the Gate-man's tears ?
Gray horses strike and paw the air
Fate Queen ascends the carriage stair

And all about her swirl the dreams
The nightmares all with voiceless screams
And in her hand a wondrous key
To lock Enigma's Mystery

Pass through the gate O Queen of Fate
Another carriage will await
Drawn by Steeds of Promises
Illusion Starts and Finishes

Suzanne Delaney
Iambic Tetrameter
Gothic Theme
For Giorgio's Impress Me Iambic Contest

Copyright © Suzanne Delaney

More great poems below...

Details | Horse Poem | |

Mr. Truly Amazing

Sixteen years old and in a world of her own
Confined to life lived in a wheelchair
Ever since birth, doctors don’t know what went wrong
But, it was like no one was at home in there

One summer vacation with the other kids in tow
The family visited a Kentucky horse stable
They left her alone in a sunny grass meadow
While off riding with the children who were able

While sitting alone in a catatonic state
Staring out somewhere in space
A gelding that was grazing, Mr. Truly Amazing
Came up and licked her on the face

The family returned to a shocking surprise
Seeing the wheelchair left unoccupied
They looked all around, then couldn’t believe their eyes
When they saw her standing with a horse by her side

She was petting his nose, feeding him an apple
And seemed to be whispering something
They were frozen in their tracks not believing the fact
That their Jenny was no longer a nothing

The mother walked up, in a delicate manner
Not wanting to interrupt this miracle’s course
When Jenny turned to her and in a shallow voice
Whispered, “Look, Mommy, I have a horse”

Copyright © Joe Flach

Details | Horse Poem | |


                 Like the UNICORN

At times I fear I am the mysterious of all animals
Like the Unicorn, I myself do not feel real
My inner beauty is the only thing to conceal
I am my own mythological creature
Roaming souls with a little will power to heal
Ages of my forgotten tear
Like the Unicorns  a prophecy so unclear
I compare your beauty to be the eyes of stare
I am a magical power so rare
Absorbing the energy of the sun into a spear
I appear like the wild horse
I have no feelings of real existence, my life with no compare
Embracing all memories to disappear

Wasting away absorbing nature's life
Haunted down by a hunters knife
Thousands of wolves hungry to eat me alive

Fallen legends and myth
Pondering in a past life who I am
I feel a  touch upon my bones
Am I he the Unicorn 
A horse with one horn
Unlike the Unicorn who fell to exist
My suffering  really does exist
How I wish everything was fake
To be like you hiding upon the mist

Like the Unicorn who is a horse with no horn
Like a nobody when my life slips into the abyss 
A depth of wishing to have never been  born
With the vision of  Heaven’s Realm with a Unicorn twist

Like the Unicorn who only exist in Legends and Myth.
I come and go like a blown kiss
Shedding tears feeling all alone
I want to be like the Unicorn who are bound to roam
Take me away from this wonders of thorns
Give me a magic Medallion to free myself from the pits
Infatuated with the gorgeous Unicorn
A passion among beauty is where I exist


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

Details | Horse Poem | |

So Free

As if dropped down from crystal sky, two mares through water run so free. They gleam the dream of Gemini - white beauty in the sun and sea. Written March 10, 2015 by Andrea Dietrich for the MEMENTO OF WATERS Poetry Contest of nette onclaud Based on Visual #3

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich

Details | Horse Poem | |

Horse From Mars


It came from the sky, a gray silver stallion.
I looked up high, and I have also seen a dragon.

With so many things in this universe.
I'm on stand-by with a camera in my purse. 

Who would have known I'd be the first to spot a PEGASUS.
The town folks wave hi every time I walk my hippopotamus.

I enjoy showing everyone, my pictures of a flying horse.
I don't see why they call a DOCTOR every time I call the TASK FORCE

I think they are jealous over all the things I've seen.
They act all crazy since I sighted a LEPRECHAUN when I was fourteen.

No one ever believed me when I saw an army of dragonflies.
They have a name for me "the boy who See's too much in the skies!"

I don't know why they can't see what I see.
For all I know they are all experiments under Alien Technology.

They don't believe me how I got this magic MEDALLION.
It was a friendly gift from the silver stallion.

I also have many pictures of a  UNICORN.
We became best-friends when he gave me a piece of its magic horn.

We sat together while he drank from the lake.
We enjoyed talking, --talking about how U.F.O.'s are fake.

Why can't they see? The day I fell off a boat, I got rescued by a MERMAID!
Who would have known a mermaid swim around with first-aid.

I also remember the day I followed a LEPRECHAUNS.
We were playing under the rainbow having so much fun.

When I told my doctor about all the things I've seen.
He locked me in a DUNGEON, thinking I was the ALIEN QUEEN.

I begged and I told him I don't believe in any type of alien.
Too bad the master of this dungeon came from another region.

In a way he looks like that one SILVER STALLION from Mars.
The first creature I'd seen the day I fell off the monkey bars.

I have this picture of this horse of course.
JUST help me out of this white-jacket!!! ;-)
If you want to see the coolest picture of a flying horse. 

(A small collaboration with: B-Boy)

re-post for ~FUNNY CONTEST

Copyright © SKAT A

Details | Horse Poem | |

An Escape

Have some time to spare in-between a work schedule 
burning me from the inside, out.
Wasted too much time on the computer already,
my body aches from physical inactivity.

Thoughts are racing faster than the speed of light,
the routine of modern life is trying to cage in a free spirit-
a pen for a wild horse with boundless energy,
a strong kick and large teeth.

Haven't come down to this part of the bay for years.
Not sure why anymore?
Not too sure about anything right now.
Believed I was too young to be having these thoughts,
but here they come like a booming drum beat,
keeping time with the pounding of my heart,
but always just a little louder,
to remind me how this warning isn't about to depart.

The putrid stench of kelp and dead crabs
baking in the afternoon sun,
curls up my nostrils, awakening memories of childhood....
....the salt in the sea is the salt in my blood;
we have been one since conception.
The salty, deep green rot, smells like bliss to me,
compared with the scents of over-heated wires,
burnt coffee, and industrial-gray carpeting.

Sit down on a large chunk of driftwood.
The waves aren't crashing in their usual rhythmic crescendo,
but lapping quietly like chortling laughter.
The ocean is chuckling,
laughing at my insignificance
in comparison to its almost limitless horizon 
of cruel, cold water.

A familiar pungent aroma creeps my way-
the high citrus scent of bergamot
mixed with the sweet perfume of skunk.
Two young punks are hauling on some reefer
up the beach from where I am sitting.
Can hear their youthful, carefree chatter.
The last time I smoked weed, seems eons ago now.
The smell invokes the rebel still alive inside,
giving a glimpse of who I had once been-
eyes blazing red,
mind full of humble awe
flying high above the clouds like an eagle.

The shrill cries of gulls fighting over a starfish
breaks my stupor of reminiscence,
reminding me of the hungry ways of nature-
the hungry ways of mankind and money.
Damn! My stupid job awaits!

As I make my way back,
pant legs causing the sand grass 
to sigh in dry moans and whispers,
I make up my mind to visit 
this old stomping ground more often.
In fact, I might start coming out here
on all of my lunch breaks.
Out here, the wild horse has ample room to roam,
even if for only a few moments of escape-
an illusion of escape is far better
than having only stifled dreams
and no hope left at all-

feel much better already.

Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner

Details | Horse Poem | |

Mackenzie Trail

When doves on evenings, calm and still, call out a hollow tone, They rouse a medley, old as time, so few have ever known. The whispered lines of its refrains resound of yesterday, In ancient tales and bygone trails that man cannot portray. I’ve rode and worked along a trail throughout my many years. I’ve heard the tales the sages tell of raging Longhorn steers, Of soldiers marching single file or mounted days on end, Of Indians, conquistadors and Rangers tracking men. Mackenzie Trail is not well known for time obscures its fame, But high regard is placed on it by those who know its name. Its story’s scribed in black and white, its remnants etched in stone, Its way was marked by sweat and blood, by grave and bleaching bone. The broad frontier that it traversed had yet to be surveyed And danger seemed to lie in wait at every turn and grade. From Fort Clark Springs to forts on north, it led Mackenzie’s men To risk their lives out on the trail, then brought them home again. A mound lies near Mackenzie Lake, where horse thieves met despair, For Rangers tracked their hurried trail and hung them then and there. And near a barn not far away, in Live Oaks’ blissful shade, The remnants of a camp still lie where soldiers often laid. I’ve rode the trail and damned the rock that cost my horse a shoe. I’ve crossed its draws that filled with rain and made my lips turn blue. Its rugged paths have tested me and all who’ve come this way, Yet, it remains my trail through time, my bond with yesterday. Mackenzie Trail will long survive, a monument to will, That I recall when I ride near on evenings, calm and still; When doves exclaim in harmony, their lonely, hollow tone And rouse the medley, old as time, so few have ever known.

Copyright © Jim Fish

Details | Horse Poem | |

Riding Misty

Though Santa never responded to pleas
There was just one gift on my list each year
A horse that could run at the speed of light
A bold little gal; I never had fear

With two high school friends I visited a ranch
To ride in 103-degree heat
Through the bramble bushes and prickly pears
Upon little “Misty” I took my seat

The Mustang Adoption Program’s success
Sparked ranchers from Tucson, Arizona
To give a home to a rust-colored mare
Many miles from my home near Daytona

Cryptic white markings graced Misty’s neck
Looked like words in Native American code
“She’s so small,” I whined, seeking to ride fast
But no matter, to the desert we rode

Even the roadrunners were envious 
When Misty gained speed and hit her full stride
Warp speed!  I clung to the saddle horn
As Misty passed larger horses with pride

My hat fell on a cactus, sweat filled my eyes
My life flashed before me, quite a surprise
It seemed like she had wings as we flew
Don’t be quick to judge a horse by its size

I thank Misty often for the ride she gave me
She fulfilled my dream and gave me a thrill
But on the news today a reporter said
Wild horses would now be rounded up and killed

I’m so grateful I had the chance to ride
A wild horse with spirit and awesome speed
But what will become of her ancestors
Misty’s now part of a vanishing breed

*For Frank's "One Standout Day" contest
by Carolyn Devonshire

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire

Details | Horse Poem | |

I lay my head

I lay my head  upon the softness of its mane
My white charger, no knight for a swain
as I am the gallant rider looking for love.
Riding the green valleys with mountains above,
looking for hope in natures  fertile plain

A dream, a carousel  of  tears  and  pain
With bobbing horses making  a colourful train
Flying above a sure sign of hope, a dove
I lay my head 

Imagination in play as I search in vain
Why from happiness  must I abstain
My empty heart crying out to those above 
Praying each night, please bring me love 
Grabbing a handful of the silky white mane
I lay my head


Details | Horse Poem | |

Cowboys in the Badlands

Rather lost, they stare over the divide,
how best to circumnavigate this obstacle?
They can see a path gently sloping down
but it is far off to the north two days ride.

West is back from whence they had come,
east is an impassable cliff of sheer rocks.
They can not see far to the south but maybe,
they talk it over and head into the unknown.

Tumble weed rolling by pushed by the wind
as playfully it blows them into their path.
Miniscule trees dot the flat plateau
and small shrubs popping up here and there.

In a hurry they head on swiftly southwards
and soon start to descend to the valley below.
Billy is pale with anxiety as they push on
his wife Betty is due to give birth.

Sammy casts worried looks at his friend knowing
there is little he can say that will help.
At last they reach the valley and gallop on
Just another five miles will they make it in time?

Their horses now struggling, sweat pouring off them.
Billy's homestead comes into view cattle scattering
as they gallop through the herd and into the yard.
Sammy hangs back as Billy dashes in to Betty.

In full labour she screams "Where have you been?"
"The preacher is here to wed us. Did you get the ring?"
"I have it here" said Billy and without delay they were married.
And within minutes the twins arrived a boy and girl both bawling.

"Geezers you cut that close Billy" said Sammy
as they slumped on the front porch drinking beer.
"We made it in the nick of time" replied Billy
flushed with the joy and fulfilment of life.

written 17/09/2014

contest: Cowboys in the Badlands

sponsor Isaiah

Copyright © Shadow Hamilton

Details | Horse Poem | |

Cowboys in the Badlands

Cowboys in the Badlands 

Out West, across the great divide
great open spaces oceans wide
Beauty in these badlands does hide
everything fights us as we ride

Last stop, was exciting wild Abilene
shot an hombre that was very mean
Watched him bleed as he slowly died
his gal held him and loudly she cried

Before, she had sworn love to me
next his dying love she swore to be
Riding away fast, ahead of the Law
looking back, cloud of dust we saw

My partner lit out on me last night
cried this was surely not his fight
He turned back east galloping so fast
we had our time, had a damn blast 

Ahead the badlands beckon me on
this cowboy life sets me all alone
Hot as hell the water miles ahead
A night's rest to clear my head

Morning sun woke me to its heat
no bread, bacon and eggs to eat
My water is in very short supply
always fleeing, I ponder just why

No time to enjoy such pretty views
my path ahead my life must choose
Avoiding Indians and the chasing men
forever alone with never a friend

This beauty now I can slow to see
posse has surely given up on me
Coyotes call , rattlesnakes do hiss
comfort of town I do sorely miss

Found now, a trail to old Mexico 
across the Rio Grande I now go
Far behind, hot hell races after me
dancing with pretty senoritas I'll soon be!


Copyright © Robert Lindley

Details | Horse Poem | |

Chariot of Fire: co-written with OE Guillermo


     I stand in silence and behold the sight,
     staring in wonder, waiting for thunder.
     A chariot of fire travels through the night.

     The white-winged horses gallop in full flight 	
     pulling at the reins; flowing are their manes.
     I stand in silence and behold the sight.

     Where are they going? There’s a shining light
     leading all the way, so they will not stray.
     A chariot of fire travels through the night
     amidst the heaven where in pure delight
     resides the Master, the sweetest lover. 
     I stand in silence and behold the sight.

     Blessings whisked to amble slowly with plight;
     heartbeats race to sway, courage on display.
     A chariot of fire travels through the night.

     Armoured by God’s spirit they ride like knights
     fearless from pain; victory, their peak gain.
     I stand in silence and behold the sight.
     A chariot of fire travels through the night.

Collaboration: Paul Callus & Olive Eloisa Guillermo
                       November 2014

Copyright © Paul Callus

Details | Horse Poem | |

The Unicorn

The unicorn horse, 
With a horn on its head, 
Is just a mythical animal
who runs in the forest, 
The unicorn myth, 
shall always live on.
A legendary horse, 
next to legendary man.
But through times of greatness, 
the myth lives on.
While grazing the grasses.
and roaming the lands.
The unicorn's exsistence, 
extraordinarily lives on.
A shimmer of hope, 
he has brought to the masses.
a symbol of purity and grace, 
throughout the Middle Ages, 
The Renaissance horse
has written the pages. 
The Unicorn's horn, 
was used for defenses, 
The Unicorn's legs
could jump many fences, 
Across the lands, 
and down to the sea.
The Unicorn's exsistence, 
was as rare as can be.
Strong as an Ox, 
he could never be captured.
By the grasp of the virgin, 
the horse could not flee.
The Virgin Mary herself, 
would not let the horse free..

Unicorn Poetry by Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2014.All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © Kim Robin Edwards

Details | Horse Poem | |

A Horse Life

In a horse life.We can play with a burlap feed
bag, an empty milk jug, or chew on the barn stall
door.Just to kill some time, or to kill some every
day bordom.In a horse life.We get names like
Black Beauty, Flicka, Seabiscuit, or Secretariat.
In a horse life.We do tricks like bowing our heads
down, or placing our shoe upon a pedastool.Picking
up the cowboy hat.While tapping our feet rata-tat-tat.
In a horse life.We like a good block of salt.With lots
of minerals, to lick upon.A wholesome bale of hay.To
start off a brand new day.Or a bucket of grain.To keep
us all healthy, fat, and sane.And a fresh bucket of water, 
to wash it all down.In a horse life.I could be losing a 
horseshoe.While the rider is losing his mind.In a horse
life.We can be a workhorse, a race horse, or a trick pony.
Or maybe a showhorse, or possibly a circus horse.With
out all the phoney baloney.In a horse life.We can run all
day in the open sun, or run the race trak.While the betters
place their wagers.Of course, at the horse racing track
betters window.In a horse life..

A Horse Life Poem by Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2011,2014..All rights reserved.

Copyright © Kim Robin Edwards

Details | Horse Poem | |

My Molly May

My Molly May

I had a little pony
I called her Molly May
So often I would venture out
And feed her bales of hay.

So then she’d frolic
Kick her heels up high
Round and round she would run
Looking sweet as she passed by.

She’d run until she was worn out
Then to the stable she would go
I’d bed her down then for the night
My love for her each day would grow

She was my, cutest Molly may
This pony always made my day.

25 September 2014

Copyright © Vera Duggan

Details | Horse Poem | |

The Cowboy Life I Love

I squint my eyes from the glaring sun
As I drive cattle across the open range.
I am the youngest hand, so I ride drag
Covered by the dust stirred into the wind.

This is the life I have chosen
To hear the steady creaking of my saddle
The songs of the cowboys as they lead the herd
The lowing cattle as they smell water.

This is the life I live
To see the endless stretches of prairie
The hens and rabbits scuttling away
The ponderous beasts flowing in a living stream.

This is the life I love
Watching the horses graze peacefully at night
The cattle milling about during my night ride
My horse's gentle breathing as I circle them.

May this be my lot while here I remain
May I drink from the freely flowing streams
And breathe the pairie air until I die.

Whether life be short or long
May I ever onward toil, and be content
With the satisfaction of honest work
With the steady pounding of hooves
Biscuits and chili by a wavering fire
And sleeping under the sky on the open range.

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst

Details | Horse Poem | |


Alone figure stands, 
On sunsets rock.
Summers hot breezes brush,
Against bare skins flesh.
Stalking the ageless path.
Behold histories Indian brave, 
Man, and horse intertwined.
Symbiotic beings joined,
They are one.
The spirit rider gallops, 
Across freedoms trail.
Cautiously, allying arrow unto bow,
Aiming swiftly his shot to kill.
Guardian’s raging bull charges,
Protectors sacrifice, blood mingles,
Amongst dust clouds aftermath, 
His majesty lies slain.
Dark brown eyes close, 
Glimpsing blue sky for the,
Last time.
Heavens prairies, welcome destiny's,
Honorable foe,
The hunter kneels beside the giant's,
Stilled heart,
Giving thanks, singing chants rise,
Ascending heights greener, 
Pastures unto a higher plain.
It echoes in valleys deep,
Touching the lands of his,
 Fore fathers.
Tonight beneath flames tribal fires,
Rhythms beating drums, gives praise,
Many shall celebrate, feasting,
 In memories tribute,


Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Horse Poem | |

Lest we Forget the Horses

When the world practises Tao,
horses fertilize the fields.
When the world ignores Tao,
horses are bred for war.
The Tao Te Ching of Lao Tzu 

 Lest We Forget the Horses

Time speaks of history 
a vast and empty sadness 
washes over me 
watching old newsreels 
Highstepping horses, 
gentle eyes transformed in fear 
valiantly charging
under men that could not yield

Amid the noise of cannons
their beauty- gently haunting
Spirited, obedient, valiant
they charge over the
death-filled  battle-field 

Now the faded image shows
a glory past and gone
Yet we must remember them
And how their courage shone

Sides flecked with foam, obedient spirits,
so far from home, hoofbeats pound, 
crested necks, high dancing steps, 
with jingling bridles they rush as one, 
hearts bursting, falling in their stride,
somehow they know how desperate
 is this final, fatal charge

Faded film of ages gone
Lest we forget the horses
or the majesty of them
Lest we forget them
or the men who spurred them on 

In solemn re-enactment
we must remember them.

 Suzanne Delaney

Copyright © Suzanne Delaney

Details | Horse Poem | |

Golden Horse Ride

The oncoming truck swerved into my lane
And there was not enough time for veering
But I was suddenly relieved from the pain
By a golden horse with hind legs rearing

We galloped straight down the road for apace
And then turned onto a large green expanse
I hung on tightly, not used to a race
Though I was willing to give it a chance

My dull senses were roused on the fresh field
And my pale skin warmed from the sun outside
I slowly loosened my grip and revealed
That I could never fall off if I tried

I shouted out with a vivacious voice
Unlike the one that was used to hiding
With newfound feelings that made me rejoice
Due to the golden horse I was riding

In an instant we reached the tall mountains
That I’d only seen in big picture books
The kind with dreamlike waterfall fountains
That we climbed up without a second look

There were no hurdles too large in our way
Or tough boulders too slippery or coarse
That could in the slightest ever delay
Or stop the progress of my golden horse

We moved as swift as if running downhill
Giving me motive to close my own eyes
But once at the top got an awful chill
When the brave stallion leaped into the skies

This time I shouted out “Why in god’s name
Must I be saddled on this golden horse!?”
For a deed like this is truly insane
Until knowing my death, fulfilled its course

David Fisher-posted on 2/10/2015-For Structured Forms-Iambic Verse Contest

Copyright © David Fisher

Details | Horse Poem | |

Steel Horse Wings of Feather

It took me a steel horse with wings of feather
To ride me through heavy thunder clouds

Through troubles and struggles it led me..
Knowing there would be sunshine behind those heavy clouds

Riding on top of black and darkened storm clouds
Knowing at some point I needed to dive into it

The steel horses`armored exterior withstood it all..
Hail,lightning,furious turbolence combined with unhuman forces

Sunlight drying me face as my steel horse leads me out of it
Now wings of feather takes over,and smoothly we drift towards the sun..

September 9th 2012

Copyright © Arild Andresen Ertsland

Details | Horse Poem | |

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.

Copyright © Suzanne Delaney

Details | Horse Poem | |

The Drove

The trail was long and very dusty
great clouds churned up by hooves
of the vast herd being wrangled on
300 more miles of eating their dust

Bandana's tightly wrapped round faces
cries of "get up there" ringing out
bawling calves separated from mothers
hiss of hot branding irons scorching

A rumbling constantly moving mass
stretching back as far as eyes can see
horses reeling back and forth, pushing
always pushing them on, 200 miles to go

Storm is approaching as they settle down
tightly bunched up wranglers keeping watch
hard as nails falls the rain, lashing down
cattle milling round and round as flashes

Of lightning light up the sky causing 
restless beasts to try to break and flee away
tumultuous thunder now joining in causing panic
"Keep them circling, don't let them break out"

Came the cries of the foreman as they tried to hold 
chuck wagon knocked over as through camp they run
woe to anyone on foot or even a thrown rider
"keep them going south, They will stop at the river"

Gradually the storm quietens and dies down
first light shows how scattered they are
some needing to be shot where they lay mangled
the rest pushed through the river to the plains

Here they can be regrouped, lush grasses to eat
no urgency now 10 miles or so a day we push them
letting them gain some more weight, 50 miles to go
the foreman sends two men on to warn the yards

At last they see the rail tracks, only 15 miles away
"one last big push lads and we will have them there
tonight we will wet our whistles and eat like kings"
hot tubs to soak in, washing away dirt that is caked

We push them into the waiting pens as they bawl and churn
settled now with fresh hay and water the plaintive calls
of mothers looking for their calves, the wranglers push 
them together keeping the bulls apart, they will ship first

Now work is done, 800 miles or so we have driven them
it is time to relax and let our hair down, find ladies
of the night with which to dally for awhile, some poker
played, several fights break out over who gets which one

As dawn breaks low rumbles from the pens as the cattle stir
the town but for a few still fast asleep, until the train
spitting steam and smoke arrives, and buyers now alight
many offers are made and rejected out of hand, these cows

Are already sold to keep our armies fed as they war against
the Maverick Indians, that are plundering the homesteads
30,000 at first of drove, now reduced to 27,000 or so
loaded up on the train our job is done we are homeward bound    

written 09/17/2013

contest Epic Only

Copyright © Shadow Hamilton

Details | Horse Poem | |


I took my periodic stroll through the local antique store today.
There were the usual horse collars, clocks and various sundries on display.
Havin' no need fer horse collars and sech, I quickly passed them by,
But a paintin' of an abandoned stagecoach really caught my eye!

The artist depicted it in a field overgrown with tumbleweeds and brambles.
It looked so very forlorn, its former glory now in a total shambles!
I contemplated this poignant scene and mused upon its past,
And how it may have helped conquer the western frontier so very vast!

I could picture the cranky driver a-cussin' and crackin' his leather whip,
Stingin' the ears of his cantankerous mules urgin' them on to a faster clip!
As they raced across arid deserts and rounded treacherous mountain curves,
How the passengers must've been jostled, gittin' on each others nerves!

I visualized the characters that old stage must've transported to the west!
There were gamblers seekin' suckers, concealin' ample aces in their vest!
Platoons of preachers clutchin' their Bibles were numbered 'mongst the hosts,
And young and innocent teachers were headin' west to teach at army posts!

Soiled doves, plyin' their trade, were headed fer sawdust saloons.
I wondered if the old stage had ever been sacked by outlaws and their goons.
I reckon the old derelict had earned its repose - its axles no longer squeal. 
If only that old stage could speak! My oh my! The secrets it might reveal!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw

Details | Horse Poem | |

Unicorns are they Legend or Fact dedicated to PD

Creature of myths and legends
most deny that you ever exist
yet time after time you reappear
history the world wide names you

Depicts you with spiral single horn
gleaming white starry coat
its said only in a virgin you trust
when you will lay your head

In her lap as she tames
your ferocity and wildness
only then can you be caught
yet should we capture you?

Is it not best to leave you free?
some things are best left alone
never to be proved as fact
I know I believe you to be real

Yet a wondrous creature living hidden
that forever free and wild should be
allowed to roam in our minds and hearts
bringing hope and joy to future generations

         ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

for PD's contest written 06/11/2013

The unicorn is a legendary animal from European folklore that resembles a white horse with a large, pointed, spiralling horn projecting from its forehead, and cloven hooves. First mentioned by the ancient Greeks, it became the most important imaginary animal of the Middle Ages and Renaissance when it was commonly described as an extremely wild woodland creature, a symbol of purity and grace, which could only be captured by a virgin. In the encyclopedias its horn was said to have the power to render poisoned water potable and to heal sickness.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Copyright © Shadow Hamilton

Details | Horse Poem | |

Death Undignified, Fort Laramie 1860

The summer sun was high. The heat was oppressive.
The whalebone corset dug into the body's tender parts.
Peering from the shop, my hand touching the pane
of dearly brought glass, I feel the vibration of the incoming riders.
The weak blue sky pales, and clouds over with the dust. 
Children playing at hoop, let it drop with an unheard clatter.

Inside Fort Laramie’s provisioner, Mrs. Dreary’s dropped plate clatters.
Outside the general store, a thunder of hoofs race pell-mell through heat oppressive.
“Indians,” the children scream, running through the 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 runs up the back stairs. Her baby screams in pain.

Arrow flights buzz by shattering shop 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. The shards of glass scatter, bullet parted.
“Mame, git away from that window now! Gener’l Connor’ll kill me if y’ur dusted.”

My eyes, now black and hollow as a barn owls, tear, full of dust.
“Damn heathens” Mr. Dreary cusses. Bullets clip through the broken pane.
Pulling me behind, opening the useless glass door. “Thop” an arrow parts
his scalp. He falls backward, landing beside me, spurs clattering.
The wee baby screams again and I turn to see Mrs. Dreary's oppressive
grip on the child. “He’s dead.” She says grabbing the Sharp. She kills a rider.

The arriving soldiers chase the mongrel band of heathen riders.
Mrs. Dreary, babe in one arm, Sharp in the other, kicks the fallen 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 incoming riders.
My brass buttons and flint arrowhead scrape the tub clattering,
no one in the street notices my departing in the days dust.
My open mouth fills with the rancid, taste of pain.
“How improper,” was my last lucid thought, oppressive.

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

Poet: Debbie Guzzi

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi