Best Riderless Poems

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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Our great Balboa has left the hillock bare
And two waters converge in evening mist
Where from our vision he made us stare
As the divided dimensions rose and kiss
So sleep the sailor, so sleep the caravel
So sleep great Balboa, toll, toll your knell. 
   ...

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I wear a veil of iron mesh,
it sheilds me from sensation,
it's like the one that Jackie wore
after Jack's assassination.

I was just a youngster then,
but, deep inside, I knew,
that with that act of violence
came the end of Xanadu.

My childhood innocense was gone
along with Camelot,
Pandora's box had...

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I was driving home in my Pick-up
When I saw something Strange…
… a Cowboy Sat atop His Horse
Calling Someone’s Name

He trotted on the Moonlit Trail
The man’s Face, held no Shame
As Tears were rolling down His Jaw
I saw this, Very Plain…

I could tell He was A-Hurtin’
Something was...

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The Horse Nebula
rises from flames, forged
from Milky Way core.
Saturn flanks his right,
Jupiter his left --
Gods girded for war.

Lightning bolts whistle
above the red glare
for all to beware.
Dark stallion ascends,
riderless, regal,
through the rarified air.




Photo taken by the author at the Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge, July 29, 2019,...

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It was a night so dark, so damp; the fog swirled thick about the lamp,
a night not fit for man or beast, a night on which tender hearts ceased
to care about mankind's suffering, so nasty was the storm buffeting
the tiny humble New England town, its...

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A riderless mount tripped along the ties
and disappeared into the haze of gun and blaze.
Bloody ghosts drifted unseen
swallowed by the dirty dusk and
speared by silhouettes of rails that
lay torn and tossed and lost.
The brazen chest thumping of victory echoed
as it was measured against the cost.
Then,...

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Not begging, 
for a native dream; 
hiding an ocean in the eyes.

The hills were trembling. 
I am going to cross the river, 
of flames.

I am sitting on the dirt floor, 
counting the cowries.

This was my home, 
that was my book.

Playing the game of death.

What had...

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Hey, hunker down in the bone orchard, chick,
Hear the wind blowing hard and the magazine click,
Feel the reins soaking wet with the blood of the dead
And the eyes gleaming fire and the hooves dripping red.

I could count on my fingers, if they were still there,
All...

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Old Harve woke up in a cold sweat that day
And he’s never been the same—
He dreamt of a Veteran’s Day parade
Where no other people came.

There were only riderless horses there,
And some empty Sherman tanks,
Pilotless planes, deserted moth-balled ships—
No one watched or waved them thanks.

And there...

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A sojourner,  I cross the years to look
   sliding pass the history books
and read while listening.

Stepping through time, moments of tenacity finds
   while I follow the spoken words
and seek the speaker today still heard.

The parade flows endless through the streets
...

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The horse – a creature of blind passion – pawed
The earth beside the silent fallen form
A digger of graves more noble and more odd
Than ever I had chanced to see before

His raven mane flashed in the waning light
Which time to time broke through the pressing...

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Charge boldly charge
No quarter asked
From the valley
They stormed
An enemy 
Struck
As blood
A sideways rain
Blinding those
Left afoot
With horses
Shot
A hill to be
Taken
No more reason
Than that
Dead Captain
Face down
His riderless 
Mount
Chasing
Straight 
To the top
The summit
Crested
Invaders
Turned
With screams 
From the 
Boys
Now cries 
From the 
Men
As downward 
They start
Killing from
The back
With no 
Quarter...

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it is often said, love is blue
a poor anodyne for crushed hearts
pity them dearly that after years
they fail to understand
the mirror holds the cynosure
they truly adore
once miraculous, now commonplace
magic surrendered to logic
fails the child within
the alchemy enclosed is dead
an abandoned playground
even more tragic is the...

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Somebody should start digging,
a big hole, we need a big hole.

Big enough for 300 babies, 300 children,
300 young women,
300 old women
300 fighting men, 300 just talking men.
300 charging horses and riders,
300 retreating riderless horses,
300 peace workers, 300 idiots,
300 hundred nurses and doctors,
300 politicians, 300 martyrs.

It...

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