Best Nicker Poems
Upon the meadow where you were born,
I make a vow to stay by your side,
And though my heart in anguish is torn,
Tear-filled eyes remember our last ride.
You breathe hard as you lay in the grass.
Your heart beats like the thunder of earth.
In its own time, life will let you pass
To look for the mare who gave you birth.
Reins are hung on a hook in the byrne.
Your stall is empty. It leaves me forlorn.
I, the pupil, from your strength did learn
The joy of life the day you were born.
Your body once hot, now becomes cold.
The sun fades as the clouds become thicker.
Good-bye, my friend. Our rides made us bold.
Just nicker once more, softly nicker
....softly nicker...
Categories:
nicker, death, horse,
Form:
Rhyme
Oh, nicker. Oh, nacker.
I broke my poor cracker
While putting it in my soup.
I just wanted a nibble,
But the soup had to quibble,
And thus all my plans turned to poop.
So now I'm here sittin'
A poor man quite smitten
With no other crackers to spare,
On soup that's unlawful,
So twisted and awful,
That it kills with no thought and no care.
Why can't it relate,
And learn not to hate,
My crunchy, crisp wafers of bread,
It would have much more fun
Not to mention for one,
My crackers won't all end up dead.
I suppose it’s too much
To ask soup for such
A commitment to love other food.
But till its attitude mends,
And it learns to make friends,
I believe that my crackers are screwed.
Categories:
nicker, food, funny, loss,
Form:
Rhyme
Well, I moved into town to live like a city slicker,
Loaded my truck, found a place, and here I am,
Though a country boy has a head a bit thicker,
City life is not so hard to understand,
And I've been learnin' how to use a computor,
How to do some picture takin' with a cell phone,
How to get insurance for my truck and motor scooter,
But city life is nothing like back home,
Because where I come from, they call it the boonies,
Dirt roads, back woods, life as country as can be,
Though now I'm mixed in with all the town loonies,
They'll never take the country out of me,
Yea, I can still plant me a nice little garden,
Though not nearly as big as it use to be,
And still listen to country music, Dolly Parton,
She's on my coffee mug for all to see,
And I still get to do some dear huntin'
For those split tails runnin' 'round here,
And I make sure to keep my truck tuned and runnin'
By way of Auto Zone, or I'd run out of beer,
Yea, I livin' in the hood, straight from the boonies,
It's great be an American and free,
Though I'm mixed in good with all the town loonies,
They'll never take the country out of me,
Yea, I moved into town to live like a city slicker,
And I'm doin' the best that I can...
I can drive by Churchill Downs and hear the horses nicker,
I'm just a country boy with a city slicker plan,
I can drive by Churchill Downs and hear the horses nicker,
I'm still a country boy, yea, that's who I am,
Though a country boy has a head a bit thicker,
City life is not so hard to understand.
Categories:
nicker, funny, history, people, places,
Form:
Lyric
She has a cowgirl hat and a set of spurs,
And sometimes she's as gentle as a cat that purrs,
Imagine that....she's my way with words,
And her and I together'd tame a buffalo herd,
Yea! she's the cats meow...can make a racehorse nicker,
Make a wolf pack howl...when our hearts are gettin' quicker,
When we go downtown to dance and drink some liquor,
We get unwound..meet friends...the mood gets thicker,
Imagine that and also this,
I can't resist her country cowgirl kiss,
And that is that and this is this,
She can't resist this country cowboys kiss,
Yea! she's the cats meow....can make a racehorse nicker,
Make a wolf pack howl...when our hearts are gettin' quicker,
When we go downtown to dance and drink some liquor,
We enjoy the sounds of those drums and guitar pickers.
And that is that...along with this,
I can't resist her country cowgirl kiss,
Imagine that...she's my way with words..
Yea! her and I together'd tame a buffalo herd,
Yea! her and I together'd tame a buffalo herd,
My baby has a cowgirl hat......Imagine that!!
Categories:
nicker, cowboy-western, love, song-lyricdance, dance,
Form:
Lyric
An Angelo Arab, you had immense spirit
dappled grey with a huge leap over fences.
Your stable name was Tom, pedigree name
too much of a mouthful for every day use.
In your stable you were a terror to my grooms
pulling faces and hunching up your back as if
to bite or even kick. It was all show you just
wanted to be left alone, a true one person horse.
No other could ride you as you would buck and buck
even going down and rolling to get rid of other riders.
Shoes could be a challenge as you would snatch feet away
or refuse to lift them up, only one blacksmith did you tolerate.
Yet to me and my mother you were so sweet, nickering
a welcome when you saw either of us coming.
You floated over fences winning us many rosettes
when turned out you would race down the jumping lane.
With Sheroake at your heels laughing with glee
you would go up and down time and again.
Then take delight in having a long dusty roll
finally settling down to graze the sweet grass.
Fast as a flash, the clock never a challenge
perfect rounds nearly every single time.
In one year you went from grade C to grade A
barely 14:3 hands tall yet heart of a giant.
You always held a special place in my heart
many the hours we spent together out riding
or practicing in the paddock, at dressage
you were a real ace act graceful as a swan.
Tom sweet Tom how I loved you
maybe the more as only I alone
on your back you would tolerate
your love made me feel so proud
Great spirit horse long may you race
the clouds where you now dwell
If I close my eyes I can still hear
the thundering of hooves flying by.
Never again was there a horse
quite like you. I remember your neat
little ears flickering back and forth
as I spoke to you, with a nicker you
would answer me and toss your head.
Categories:
nicker, horse, love, trust,
Form:
Ode
Canyon winds caress the soul
Grazing sheep warm the heart
Dine' children play in the creek
childish giggles that make us laugh
With you here beside me
The journey begins
The horses nicker
breaking the silence
Silence wraps around us,
Mother Earth holding us to her
As we journey deeper
Ancient drums begin to stir
Can you hear the Ancients calling?
Welcoming us to the tribal fire
Dancing in celebration of our Love
Categories:
nicker, cowboy-western, love, people, places,
Form:
Free verse
I was nineteen that summer
when I met him at a buck-out,
and I was totally smitten
by all the Cowboy charm he had.
I thought that he was rugged,
(and undeniably handsome),
then that bull slammed against the fence
and busted him up pretty bad.
I was surprised when he showed up at the dance,
he was battered and bruised but smiling,
and I heard him talking and laughing,
still high from the rush of the ride.
He said “You gotta’ pay the fiddler
if you want to dance to his tune”,
then he drifted across the floor,
said “Let’s dance” as he reached my side.
Mama told me I’d be sorry
if I ignored her and took up with him,
and I really hate to say it,
but I guess that she was right.
But when I review my memories
I know I’d do it all again,
for that “Eight Second Feeling”
of our first long kiss that night.
We used to dance for hours,
in the kitchen and on the porch
and laugh about owein’ that fiddler
and what his pay would be.
But lately there ain’t been no dancin’,
just long strings of awkward silence,
as his eyes look far and distant
and not so much at me.
Seems his spirit has grown uneasy,
as I listen to him talking
and realize it’s still Rodeo
that truly holds his heart.
Oh, I don’t mind coming in second,
heck, life is like that sometimes.
But knowing I’m invisible,
well, that’s the hardest part.
I suppose I should be angry,
but I just can’t find it in me,
‘cause I know what it’s like
to love something just that way.
I felt it when I first saw him,
in the arena and on the dance floor
and I still feel it sometimes
when I watch him walk away.
I’ve helped him struggle to pay the fiddler,
and it breaks my heart to see him weary,
so I stand in silent acceptance,
as I watch him pack his things.
I understand his leaving,
I know he won’t be coming back here,
our life together, a lesson,
one that time always seems to bring.
I walk out past the horse pens,
pull the gate shut…and I lock it,
hear my mare start to nicker
as the trailer pulls away.
I’d like to say I’ll miss him,
his past still holds my heart.
But we danced to the fiddler’s tune
and the final payment came due today.
Categories:
nicker, cowboy-western, introspection, life, lost
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
He was fiery black and fast as the wind
and dominated his herd tenderly
yet he had ties, silken cords, him to bind
to her that graced his life preciously
He would greet her with a joyous nicker
as he galloped down the slope and whirled
she gave apples from basket of wicker
then he would spin and away he hurled
This magnificent stallion gave his trust
to her alone, her of soft hands and voice
who gave him freedom which was only just
the other people turned his soul to ice
They gave each other much love and respect
freedom was the gift they could both expect
Categories:
nicker, freedom,
Form:
Sonnet
Only images flash through the eye of my mind
Of the horse I knew when I was only nine
Through my haunting, never-ending doubt,
The tears of love and loss flow out.
Still stands time,
As silent as a mime.
How could I possibly make it through?
I absolutely have no clue.
She groaned as she flailed and thrashed,
Into the walls of the barn she crashed
I ran into the house and up to my room
The whole place was like a tomb
From the other room noise did I hear
The sounds just, seemed so near
Down the stairs and to the window I ran
Next to the horse I only saw a man,
In my Daddy's large hands rested a gun
The whole thing was almost done
From deep within the horse came a nicker,
Her life was only a flicker.
What was to happen next the horse knew
In the scene I saw was just those two
A shot rang out
As my mind quickly takes its route
Through the memories of old
Her tender soft head I wanted to hold
I cried and cried
As I stared at her red blood that had dried
The whole thing was so unclear,
But the end of her great struggle was here.
Categories:
nicker, animals, loss, love, horse,
Form:
A bolt of pain
Stabs at my sorrowful heart.
Paralyzed with fear and knowledge
I kneel at the side of an old friend.
My eyes swell up with tears
As I stare at the faithful loyal horse
Lying helplessly at my feet.
His once round smooth belly
Now rough with bony ribs
Heaves up and down with great effort.
His once gentle dark brown face
Now gray with 38 years of age
Winces with pain.
Too weak to rise,
He rocs his nose up
Stretching his neck
and reaching out to me.
A quiet muffled nicker
Is al lthat escapes his throat
As he gives up his effortless struggle
And lays his head back in the snow.
I close my eyes racing back in time
Back when Red and I were young.
when my eyes open once again
The life flows from my dear old friend.
Categories:
nicker, loss, love, pets, old,
Form:
I awaken in the dawn
to the canyon's morning song
I hear the hawks good morning cry
High in the trees, ancient voices sigh
Sister owl settles in for a rest
A whitetail fawn gives her legs a test
Somewhere down canyon, ancient drums repeating
Patient ponies nicker in greeting
Mourning doves & quail in lilting harmony
Add the final notes to this morning symphony
I sit silent in the twilight, as the day grows long
reveling in the canyon's evening song
I see the ancient campfire's glowing, in the darkening sky
High on the ridge, a coyote choral begins its cry
Sister owl takes to flight, carrying messages into the night
A hunter's moon rises, bathing the canyon in its light
Some where in the shadows, ancient voices calling
As I wish on a shooting star falling
Cicadas & river toads in raucous cacophony
Add the final notes to this evening symphony
© June 2004
Categories:
nicker, animals, cowboy-western, life, nature,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
Their faces are still there;
caricatures and cameos,
amigo mugs and jug ears.
Cheering, jeering chums
that would phone at four in the morning
to garble drunken thoughts,
make momentous plans,
or borrow ten quid.
The oddball humorist
and part-time suicide,
the drama queen
contesting her own shadow,
the poet who never wrote a poem.
The mon ami that drank for you
when you could drink no more.
Long after the late-night rides,
I see their features pressed against
softly glowing bus windows,
as London transports them
from other decades, even to far Ohio;
their lips silently mouthing –
warnings perhaps, or
maybe just trying
to cadge another ten nicker.
~~~~~~~
Authors Note: "nicker' and 'quid' are Brit/cockney terms for
pounds sterling - money. "Cadge" as in - scrounge.
Categories:
nicker, poetry,
Form:
Blank verse
~~~~~~~
Pals
Their faces are still there;
caricatures and cameos,
amigo mugs and jug ears.
Cheering, jeering chums
that would phone at four in the morning
to garble drunken thoughts,
make momentous plans,
or borrow ten quid.
The oddball humorist
and part-time suicide,
the drama queen
contesting her own shadow,
the poet who never wrote a poem.
The mon ami that drank for you
when you could drink no more.
Long after the late-night rides,
I see their features pressed against
softly glowing bus windows,
as London transports them
to other decades, even to far Ohio;
their lips silently mouthing –
warnings perhaps, or
maybe just trying
to cadge another ten nicker.
Categories:
nicker, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
Sweat-stained Stetson,
On the wall,
Muddy boots,
In the hall,
Stand and wait,
Sometimes they call,
Saddle-up and ride.
Spurs left hanging,
On a chair,
Saddle, oiled,
Over there,
Sit and wait,
With patient care,
Saddle-up and ride.
Slow and quiet,
Horses walk,
Softly nicker,
Hear them talk,
Endure and wait,
But never mock,
Saddle-up and ride.
Cowboy spirits,
In the night,
A haunting dance,
A lonesome sight,
Sway and wait,
For day’s first light,
Saddle-up and ride.
Saddle up and ride under stars and moonlight,
its the only thing that's left that's right,
Saddle up and ride.
Categories:
nicker, cowboy-western, nostalgia, people, places,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
Light my way, O autumn skies.
Tough turbulence, roll, soul. Endeavor, smoky skies.
Wanton, golden bowl? Veer. Rapture, raptor hawk?
Gibbous frost, allure, dark moon.
Cloud castles, arrive through, vortexes. Nexus.
Crystal blue-hued gusts, blow.
Sunbeams, waterfalls, heaven's tumbleweeds.
Cluster up damp, urban life.
Troubled, vagabond?
Too late, frozen? Repent? Up!
Folly of summer, blaze high.
Strangers in a foreign land, stand.
Riddle, red. Dead? Inside? Pride!
Forever, eternally, always.
Chill month, outlander? Deeply.
Oracle, paint portraits in far stars. Read.
Blot out, eccentric mind. Oar? For? Lore...
O bleak ink ocean, splatter at will. Chill.
Weeping wolf, winter.
Nicker, mare, wicker, man, ichor. Box...
Categories:
nicker, allegory, allusion, bereavement, bridal
Form:
Suzette Prime