Best Cantered Poems

JOE WHITE

Back in 1880 you will find, Joe White he was about.
The Brumby runner master mind. Of this I'll leave no doubt.
He took from Mugan station, 600 Brumbies yes my friend.
Had the best riders of the nation, on which he could depend.
From Mungindi to Sydney...

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Cap’n Thunderbolt

The moon stood out 
Any traps about  
Cap’n Thunderbolt did ask
He was on the road again 
Brown snake for break-in-fast

The Drover said they went way north 
Blacktracker with em eh
Following your week old tracks, old mate
When you robbed the coach and dray

So back...

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BERSHEBA BATTLE  W.W.1

Horses sensed the coming battle,
Heard sabres rattling to be free.
Fed a nose bag of oats, and the rattle, 
Of bayonets on the rifles, old Brumby
Off they are now, at a good trot. 
Lining up for the Turks to see,
Held in check bridles...

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Hank had cowboyed on the Triple T Ranch fer nigh on fifty years.
He'd rode the range herdin' beef peerin' betwixt his hoss's ears.
Durin' cattle stampedes he'd broke bones and many a time was throwed,
And he'd been astraddle his saddle so long that his legs was...

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Ride a Speckled Horse

Half Moon Bay
A little speckled grey
How unwilling you were
But I'd rented you that day

No cajoling and no show of force
Could lift your heart to run
Weren't you  used- to-
always being, abused by everyone ?

In shame, at that slap of reins
 across your...

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By the side of the loch some boys at play, 
when into their midst there came
A beautiful white and riderless horse 
with a long and flowing mane

A redheaded boy jumped up on its back, 
a daring young sprite was he
And the other bold lads, as...

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I called my mother the other day- just to listen to her voice
She answered dear Steve – yes this is me- how are you this day
I said I was fine- it has been some time- I searched for more words to talk
She cantered a bit...

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Winter Awakens My Care
anonymous Middle English poem, circa 1300
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Winter awakens all my care
as leafless trees grow bare.
For now my sighs are fraught
whenever it enters my thought:
regarding this world's joy,
how everything comes to naught.

Original Middle English text:

Wynter wakeneth al my care,
Nou...

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Emo-esque tales of Razors slitting the cord
My spirit is tainted like an Ouija board

Arching Daemons summoned my name,
at the belly of Hell's burning wave.
In tune with the wind's shrieking fame,
The Moon was hung on my dampened grave
as a portrait of pain and despair.
Hand-held by Death's...

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Back in 1880 you will find, Joe White he was about.
The brumby runner master mind. Of this I'll leave no doubt.
He took from Mugan station, 600 brumbies yes my friend.
Had the best riders of the nation, on which he could depend.
From Mungindi to Sydney town,...

Continue reading...

Medieval Poem V

A Proverb from Winfred's Time
anonymous Old English poem, circa 757-786
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

1.
The procrastinator puts off purpose,
never initiates anything marvelous,
never succeeds, and dies alone.

2.
The late-deed-doer delays glory-striving,
never indulges daring dreams,
never succeeds, and dies alone.

3.
Often the deed-dodger avoids ventures,
never succeeds, and dies...

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The Rhymed Poem aka The Rhyming Poem and The Riming Poem
Old English Poem (i.e., Anglo-Saxon Poem) from the Exeter Book, ca. 990 AD
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

He who granted me life created this sun
and graciously provided its radiant engine. 
I was gladdened with glees,...

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went to the toilet it tickled my snout,
the best defence is offence ,
i havent a doubt,
so i fired round after brown,
till it was all bloody out,
till me toilet cantered away,
hope it returns at the end of the day,
till then its your bloody shout ,
and johnsons...

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My Old Saddle
Like a heavy rose in silver and leather
Every stitch a life, thirty-three pounds,
In cow hide, veined by fields 
In the foothills of Alberta,
Reined and grained by waving wheat,
Watered by a woodland creek,
Nourished by the mouths of cattle,
Shaped by the hands of an artist
Tooled...

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Destroyer ~ Poet
Contest Name	5TH POEM ON THE SOUP..
POISON! 1st first.
I was coming up from Tamworth, riding on a tired horse. 
Past Barraba we wandered north, on a slow and dusty course.
 Near Barraba I drew short rein, and paused to watch a sight. 
A boy...

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