Zoe Coade Poet Rhyme

The Sport

I question the strap,
so tight around your nose,
held firmly in place
to fake some shape or pose.

I question the relentless kicking
at your ribs and side,
forwards and flipping backwards
for some sort of ride.

I question the hands that jerk
and pull at your mouth,
in all the wrong directions,
but mostly too deep south!

I question the whip,
that burns at your skin,
a punishment or aid,
a game you can’t win.
 
Finally I must question
the age old ego of man,
rosette, trophy or points,
doing what they think they can!

All riders and trainers
and experts of the jury,
open your heart, open your eyes,
I question....what do you really see?

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