The Horse
The Horse
Watch his splendor
as he strides elegantly across the prairie.
His beautiful mane blows like a leaf
on a windy November day.
Each step. One after the other, gracefully taken,
as not to lose the rhythm.
The ground beneath him, uneven, uneasy for his
stepping, is taken with great arrogance.
He stops for only a moment,
to nibble on a blade of grass.
He looks around, left to right and behind,
to be sure that no one is watching
his unusual dance on the prairie.
He dances with the beating of time, never ending,
and only he can hear it.
It will never stop, as the hands of time never do.
His tail with its one fleck of black upon it
sways like a child on a swing.
Going faster and swinging higher,
to show the pleasure of the dance.
It sways with the beat of each hoof
trouncing the ground.
Will he stop? Possibly
However, does it matter?
He is free from the world of anger, pain, fear
and reprimand.
Let him go now, he is free like the wind.
No rider shall violate the beauty of his body,
no slashes of anger shall be felt
on his innocent flesh,
and no blood shall be shed to hit the ground,
to make a pool of color on the ground.
Let him run.
He is there no more
to take the beatings of the whip.
Let him go now, he is free like the wind
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
