Best Horseback Poems
The air was thin and icy.
It was dark and cold outside.
A blanket of snow covered the ground.
The footprints in the snow led the way.
We loaded the bus one-by-one as if we were animals entering Noah’s Ark.
Statuesque beings sat motionless in their seats.
Twenty pairs of eyes half-open stared blankly ahead fixated on nothingness.
Our journey to the unknown was about to begin.
The bus tired spun in circles like a child’s merry-go-round.
Round and round they went like the thoughts in my head.
I felt like a kid at the circus.
Excitement and freedom swept over me like a cool, summer breeze.
The road was long and unfamiliar.
Time passed by so slowly as if the earth’s stopwatch had been turned off.
The once frozen bus was not swimming in a sea of hot air.
Our final destination was a small, almost-deserted town in Upstate NY.
It looked as though a plague had swept through like a giant broom and devastated it completely.
One after the other buses pulled up.
A sea of yellow painted the once dreary canvas.
Girls of all shapes and sizes descended onto the now colorful landscape.
All dressed in tan britches, black boots, and smiles.
The clan of riders filed into the ring like a colony of ants all with the same mission.
This was my first mission.
I was a soldier going into battle for the first time.
The ant colony gathered in a circular formation.
The sign-in table was engulfed and swallowed whole.
Numbers were being handed out, one-by-one.
36, 17, 41, 54, 62, 12, 19, 38…
The judge’s voice boomed over the speaker like the voice of G-d.
Every crevice of the ring was filled with the loud, unclear syllables.
Girls of horseback walked proudly and calmly into the ring.
Horses arched their necks and pranced around as if they owned the world.
Tails raised slightly, eyes beaming forward, chests massive.
Hours passed by like days.
My nerves built up like a roaring fireball in my stomach.
One swift leg-up from my coach and I am propelled onto the horse.
I land smoothly into seat of the saddle.
I am welcomed with open arms.
Together, as one creation, we walked into the ring to compete the mission at hand.
There once was a cowboy from Nevada.
He wore a barf bag as a bandana.
When he rode on his horse,
his sickness grew worse,
and his intestines flared with melena.
Pitching a leg across the nether
Of a pretty appaloosa or possibly
A chestnut bay who needs to know
That she’s being ridden by someone
Who will take her through the paces,
Strides both gentle and regulated
By a walk, a canter, a gallop, a sprint
Where she feels all her steps
Light, loose and limber as liquid love
That rains down from a heart who
Gives this mare the greatest rides
Through meadows, across hills
Into the kindness of life filled with
Delights, pleasures, sweetest bliss
Brought to life on the back end
Of a horse who listens to the kindness
Whispered through laughter, light
Chortles felt by the spirit who believes
“cowgirl up” brings plenty of dreams
To life on the back of a mount who needs
Only to be ridden without restriction
By a rider who knows the key to any heart
Is found at the end of a set of reins
Where equine love trots into command
Poetry In Motion Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Matt Caliri
December 23, 2022
Let’s go horseback riding; it will be fun!
I say “I don’t want to.”
She keeps hounding me.
I say “Do you want me to lie?”
I finally lie.
Because I fell off a horse
When I was five
When I was eight
When I was thirteen.
None of these times was fun.
It was just before sunset in an early spring. Three horseback riders,
by chance, came together in the field by the wood and were having conversation. They were a lady and two gentlemen, well dressed, in horse riding outfits.
“How are you Ophelia?” The man in black coat greeted the lady robed in violet, with an unenthusiastic look. “We haven’t see each other for a while, have we?”
“Oh, your highness,” she replied in delight with the pleasant smile.
“It wasn’t me, but you were always avoiding me for some reason.”
Ophelia turned her face toward the other gentleman who was in red coat at her left. “Isn’t that true, My Lord?”
“When death dominates us, let it dominate us to sharpen the dagger; and when we resuscitate, hide our sharpened blade behind us to stab the foe in his heart.” The gentleman in red coat answered bluntly.
“I don’t quite understand. What do you mean, my Lord?” She asked with puzzled face.
”Never mind!” The gentleman in black coat shouted annoyingly. “For my cursed dagger’s sake, we must go back to the castle at once. Come, my dear friend Horatio.”
“Yes; my Lord Hamlet,” he drew reins to turn his horse to where
the Hamlet’s horse was, while explaining to Ophelia. “The ‘death dominates’ mean that a situation is in dilemma. The situation that of kill or to die.”
Even long after tow horseback riders ride away from the scene and
sun started to sink from behind the hilltop, Ophelia stood there on horseback and kept uttering. “When death dominates us, love may hate love itself, rather than love trust the love, the maiden pure heart.”
Note: A short story fabricated after appreciation of the picture of three elegantly dressed horseback riders in sunset field, using three main characters from Hamlet.
HORSEBACK DECIDING
I recall that laughter, that happiness and smile
she made the sunshine seem dull and not nearly so bright
I make myself remember but only for a while
because the memory of her turns day into night
we laughed together by a fire on the beach
and sang two part harmony to our favorite song
we sucked on a succulent peach
and it seemed as if nothing in the world could go wrong
I recall taking her horseback riding
and how I laughed as she screamed down the trail
it seems not her but the horse was doing the deciding
as it chewed on it's bit and flicked its tail
all these moments are meandering in my memory's file
she gave me enough but I still yearned for more
but then came the violence, the voraciousness and vile
DEAD AT TWENTY FOUR
© 2012.....copyright PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
Aborigines on horseback wading
Addicted to the wilderness they trek.
Through still waters where crocodiles are king,
Their horses chomping at the bits, stiffed neck.
Oh land, kangaroos and wombats grazing.
They seek thrills and thrive on adventures deck.
Two men fearlessly explore nature’s hand.
Knowing in their hearts, their future is grand.
© February 29, 2012
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: A Lil' Bit of Aus...
Sponsor Tracie ~*~ Indigo Dreamweaver
I rode down yonder cobbled street,
On stones that clattered ‘neath my horse’s feet;
Till we reached a grand lampstand,
That marks the place that ends the land
Where city street meets country lane,
And horses ride in summer’s rain.
Out on the lane with fleet of foot,
We rode a path within the wood;
To wander round bright green trees.
With ruffled mane in a prodigal breeze,
To spy where pale narcissi lay,
And sparrows decked each floral spray.
Where squirrelly clowns cast their spell,
And twining vine where birdsongs tell
Of all the faerie tales when told,
Were all the joys and tears of old,
That lend their gold to aspen leaves,
And flutter gently in the breeze.
Sunbeams shaft thro trees with light,
Taking shadowed wings in feathered flight.
Along a path the sweet primrose,
Nod their heads with crowns of gold;
And as we leave the woods behind,
Meadowsweet’s not hard to find.
From out the shade and into sun,
I urge my horse to a steady run;
Clip clop, clip clop the steady beat,
Defines the rhyme of horse’s feet.
She shakes her mane and lifts her tail,
And the light in her eye can never fail.
Through dappled meadow and rutted lane,
We trot the copse through fields of grain;
Where bridal veil of blossoms bloom,
And scent the air with faint perfume.
As we round the corner and take the bend,
Home’s right there, we’ve reached the end.
As men on horseback chase their glory,
they slow to cross a peaceful river
each one breathes in outback adventures
surrounded by trees whispering their names
they slow to cross a peaceful river
memories rush in of hunted prey
surrounded by trees whispering their names
their lungs fill with the breath of conquests
memories rush in of hunted prey
each one breathes in outback adventures
their lungs fill with the breath of conquests
as men on horseback chase their glory.
for A Little Bit of Aus...contest
Third place
Mad Mary, Mad Max, Larry and Frog,
The known mad folk in this town,
Are the people the locals all know about,
Because they’re always seen walking around,
Wearing a worn out top hat, a torn dress of rag,
Pushing a trolley of junk,
Not homeless nor poor, no drugs, booze or dope,
Just a story of having no luck,
And everyone in town knows the story,
Knows how they each got their name,
But nobody tells people passing through town,
Nobody wants to explain,
Mad Mary lost her kids by the hands of her man,
Mad Max fought on some foreign ground,
We all secretly hide the truth of their hurt,
By calling them the mad folks of this town.
On horseback, he seemed taller
At 6’4”, he wasn’t really smaller
Than those who wore a white-collar
Going through life to make a dollar
In the picture, he didn’t have a hat
But I kept seeing him in his habitat
Where a cowboy hat on his head sat
He was an amazing rider to look at
Pride of Place poetry contest
Sponsored by Julia Ward
January 25, 2022
The equestrian climbs
atop the painted colt.
Avoiding a saddles restrictions
she rides the horse bareback
to combine their energies,
making them as one.
The thoroughbred begins to trot.
Gradually increasing the pace.
Each step, each movement
becomes an extension of the rider.
From trot, to canter, to gallup.
As the thoroughbred reaches
it's instructed gait,
a feeling of freedom
arises within me.
Feeling free, like an eagle
in flight as he soars high
across the azure sky.
The rhythmic gallop
of the horses hooves
like a hypnotists metronome,
puts me into a restful, relaxed state.
The scenery blurs
as the speed increases.
Our destination quickly draws near.
From gallup to canter to trot
our time together comes to an end
until the next time we take a ride again
take care my dear, equine friend.
5/21/2020
i ordered at the bar in archbishop's rig
two pork sausages
baked beans
strawberry bear fruit snack
orange juice
meat free burger
r white's raspberry lemonade
bangers and mash
pepsi
corn wheels
hotdog
peppercorn sauce
one wobbly sausage sandwich
on returning to my table
i overheard the barman
'a fool he was, a fool he'll always be'.
A ninety foot nymph in a circus bath can bathe admirably at dusk but upon rising the tidal splash brings forth many cackling crabs. Digging and dropping. Drinking and DOING. Such is the efforts of a 1 centimeter oink. Defecation is best done in the morning. Delivery of many mingling mind talk to the toilet then flush. Plip plop then. Sploosh then flush. Oh good oh great. The elephant corridors of the world are very very busy. In torchlight sing an aria to the captain of the cosmos. Dismiss not a bacon flavoured water as it is very interesting to talk to and has travelled many many many times. How many times does a levitating truck visit the top of a mountainous platform? It is unknown. It is not scientifically proven that a snail can travel at very high speeds on the morning. Monumental movements mooing. *** la la la number of dancing duck people *** cosmological x z v I p q u g ***