Best Riding Poems
I dream of riding in a sleigh through falling snow
Moving in the shine of colorful lights that glow
I can hear the caroling of songs on my way
It is a beautiful season and I now pray
Moving in the shine of colorful lights that glow
Candles light windows and chimney’s puff a smoke flow
It is a beautiful season and I now pray
For love, joy and warmth in the warm houses to stay
Candles light windows and chimney’s puff a smoke flow
I can hear the caroling of songs on my way
For love, joy and warmth in the warm houses to stay
I dream of riding in a sleigh through falling snow
12/8/20
Entry for Pen a Pantoum Contest. Sponsor: D.W. Rodgers
Though Santa never responded to pleas
There was just one gift on my list each year
A horse that could run at the speed of light
A bold little gal; I never had fear
With two high school friends I visited a ranch
To ride in 103-degree heat
Through the bramble bushes and prickly pears
Upon little “Misty” I took my seat
The Mustang Adoption Program’s success
Sparked ranchers from Tucson, Arizona
To give a home to a rust-colored mare
Many miles from my home near Daytona
Cryptic white markings graced Misty’s neck
Looked like words in Native American code
“She’s so small,” I whined, seeking to ride fast
But no matter, to the desert we rode
Even the roadrunners were envious
When Misty gained speed and hit her full stride
Warp speed! I clung to the saddle horn
As Misty passed larger horses with pride
My hat fell on a cactus, sweat filled my eyes
My life flashed before me, quite a surprise
It seemed like she had wings as we flew
Don’t be quick to judge a horse by its size
I thank Misty often for the ride she gave me
She fulfilled my dream and gave me a thrill
But on the news today a reporter said
Wild horses would now be rounded up and killed
I’m so grateful I had the chance to ride
A wild horse with spirit and awesome speed
But what will become of her ancestors
Misty’s now part of a vanishing breed
*For Frank's "One Standout Day" contest
by Carolyn Devonshire
I weave through the rocks of a rough winding trail
Up through the boulders and sage
Following a ridge to the top of the hill
I'm a young girl, who's coming of age
I am sitting astride a strawberry roan
My Dad rides ahead in the haze
Climbing the crest, they're sure-footed, and know
of a place to take rest, where the horses can graze
The clouds pass over, like ships setting sail
Casting shadows on the valleys below
The sky wears a palette of rose colored, pale
Our pace resumes, quiet and slow
Our voices are silent, all our words have been said
Just a whisper of bird wings, and a wisp of the chill
Our thoughts take our eyes, to a sun, scarlet red
Where it soon disappears, far over the hills
My Dad goes ahead, and has taken the lead
Lost in a mist, my eyes try to see
My mare tries to follow, and everything blurs
We continue our climb, to reach forest timber
Are those voices I hear, or just birds in the air?
Up he goes on the trail, on his faithful old steed, like a dream fading into the clouds..
He is smiling, my Dad,.. on his red sorrel mare,
.......while I stay behind to remember
_________________________________________________
6/19/2009
Moon beams in distance.
Carried by glittering waves,
Reflecting an ageless tide!
Rays of moonlight fall,
Caressing, soothing, calming,
Man's broken, weary hard heart!
He stands in the sand
Moonbeams touching his shoulder
One giant step for mankind!
The moon is falling,
from the sky coming down fast!
Can the mighty ocean last?
Surf's up came the cry,
Many feet come running by,
Can we catch that last big wave?
Two riding on a single
Man! How fast that bike will go
Down the hill around the curve
Blow wind blow
At the very bottom piled up
In a culvert drain
In great agony and pain
Totally distained
Crumpled metal, torn clothes
Bleeding and blood stains
Harsh words from parents
Tears as soap and water cleaned
All the cuts and bruises
And clothes that had to be changed
What an ending to Christmas
The joy of Santa's gift
Lying dented and scuffed bent
Beside the porch needing to be fixed
I’ll ride away from city life,
from the dingy brown of smog
and the mixing in of gray
with the white of tule fog.
Escaping black of pavement,
to New Mexico I’ll stray.
With my horse and pack mule,
to color I’ll ride away.
Through golden mountain passes,
I’ll ride to the orange southwest.
I’ll camp by the great Grand Canyon,
to see which times are best
to gaze at its bright red rock,
and enjoy it many a day.
With my horse and pack mule,
to color I’ll ride away.
By day, I’ll freely ride beneath
the heavens so vast and blue.
I’ll say my prayers by light of stars,
a sky-full, not just a few.
Slow or fast, I’ll mark my path
from Rio Grande to Santa Fe.
With my horse and pack mule,
to color I’ll ride away.
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.
It is on this day
Into his elegant horizons
Where cirrus clouds are sprayed from sunrises and sunsets
Attuned within throat of violins
An example of his concave humanity
Preaching fond memories in baritone clefs
An embrace of admirations’ core within exhaled stanzas
Forcing trembled knees to stand against robe of Death
His double entendres know no bounds
My iridescent conundrums become resolutions’ pavement
As I grab aloe-coated tissues
Wiping joyous tears from his laughter induced statements
He pours wisdom in foaming, oat-flavored pints
While we relish in his charming, devilish wit
Slowing down a rushed humanity
Bit by luminescent bit
Yes, it is on this day
Where I choose to declare in Quatrain formed sentence
To the one that puts the “man” in humanity
An affirmation on why I bow in Santa’s reverence
©Drake J. Eszes
Dedicated to the almighty Jack Ellison and my 1st Quatrain!
A virginal ride
Holding the mane of a myth
Through fantasy clouds
I no longer love country music
Or Afton, Wyoming just to be the girl
In someone's non-existent dreams
Indulging in a glass of wine
Isn't a thinking session of
Second guesses to philoso-fry myself
Conflicted as a child, repressed from lies
Found under stacks of girly magazines and
Booze, hidden in the basement by
Role models as they lectured
About the importance of virtue and Scriptures
In control, on a journey of my own
Where I'll end up, no idea, but it must be
Better than being strung along to
To the wrong song, sung off key
I built a bonfire and burned the inclinations of
Fitting into skinny jeans, quitting bad habits
Well most of them, I've re-invented myself
Through the unkindness of cold winters that
No longer plague in phantomed shadows
I gave myself permission to wreak havoc, when necessary
And sneak outside to play in my best Sunday shoes
Not playin' by their rules
It's 'Wild About Pink' lipstick, clad in shiny kick a** boots
Attending a Mad Hatter's tea party, yes
Riding my whims as they change, just like the seasons
Little Red Riding Hood went into the woods
Little Red Riding Hood
left for nearby Pine Wood
to meet her Dear Grand mom
whom she loves from her bosom.
Little angel, little fairy wore red dress.
Pet Micky Mouse put red hat to impress.
Quack duck put on red shoes on webbed feet.
Three were out for Grandmother to meet.
On her way she met a wolf in white dress
wearing woolly shoes with white lace.
Wonderful wolf named Wow-Wow
nodded its head and made bow.
Wolf was driving an old vintage car
shown in a movie that won prize Oscar.
Wow-Wow said ‘Wait just a minute.
I can give all of you a quick lift.’
So she boarded the car with each pet.
Wow-Wow drove car to the gate
of the wood house of Grandmother
waiting eagerly for her Granddaughter.
Grandma wore white blouse with red border
on red skirt with prints of white flower.
She sat on soft red sofa cum bed.
Her socks were white and shoes red.
Micky played guitar, Quack nicely sang.
White balloons, red ribbons Wow-Wow hang.
Wow-Wow became friend so helpful.
Wild wolf can also be wonderful.
Little fairy, little angel is my Granddaughter
She plays with toy pets and is busy to chatter.
I meet her on Skype every Sunday
My little Red Riding Hood jubilant and gay.
02/05/16
Once Upon a Time Poetry Contest Third Place
Sponsor Laura Loo
Third Place
'Into The Woods
' Contest by Silent One.
RIDING THE TRAIN
Catchin' the train to the city makes an interesting day
Peak hours all the workers going to earn their pay
Many nationalities all different in their own way
And then there's the trains always a delay
I silently watch as I sit alone
Many of them busy on their phones
One calls for a ride they're nearly home
Another rejects a call number unknown
An elderly couple sit near the doors
Shopping trundle in hand, out to the stores
One another they obviously adore
Weekly shopping to them is no chore
A young man with headphones sits down below
Tapping his feet to the radio
Looks like a student with a portfolio
Maybe Art he looks like Michelangelo
A middle aged woman above takes a seat
Dressed impeccably she's extremely neat
As she sits you can see her physique
Very fit but oh so petite
A group of young students are making a noise
Some other passengers it really annoys
One of them says 'Can you be quiet please Boys'
But they just get worse and increase their voice
A mum with a pram and a child in tow
Pointing through the doors at the arched rainbow
The child sits on a seat looking out the window
Mum's in a hurry but the trains' on a go slow
The end of the day and I'm heading home
A busker at the station plays his xylophone
The station manager speaks into a speaker phone
It's amazing the walks of life a train ride has shown!
We have been riding for ever so long;
Now our search for our freedom seems to be gone.
We only took; of that which we need;
And we had no tricks; hidden there up our sleeve.
For me it began when the banker came round;
And my daddy's ranch; was burned to the ground.
We were all wanted, with a price on our heads;
And we hoped if they found us, we’d fight till we're dead.
We lived life as outlaws, with weapons at hand;
And if time comes for hanging, we'll die like a man.
But we’re not alone, there are others around;
They're not hard to notice, they’re wearing a frown.
So they're building our gallows, nail by nail;
And we think hard about it, here in this jail.
But we made our choices; and then we got caught;
Yet we lived life as free men, never owned never bought.
From the view out the window, it's people I see;
They're tipping their hats; and smiling at me.
We may be convicted, but we're not disgraced;
And you won't see a tear, running down from our face.
.
So they plan to kill us, but our kind will not end;
There's cowboy’s now out there; who'll ride once again.
Me and the boys, we ran out of time;
But there will be others that come down the line.
So To all of you worms; who crawl in the dung;
You'll never stop hearing, the songs that we've sung.
You're hoping to change us, or get rid of us all;
But if we all ride as free men, perhaps you will fall.
I ride my unicorn along a rocky shore
As the full moon glistens on the waves
A beauty in the distance catches my eye
She is basking in the moons reflective glow
As the full moon glistens on the waves
I am completely mesmorized
She is basking in the moons reflective glow
I am drawn to be so much nearer to her
I am completely mesmorized
Her there naked laying on that rock
I am drawn to be so much nearer to her
As I look I notice her tail
Her there naked laying on that rock
A temptation I can hardly resist
As I look I notice her tail
She beckons me to give her a kiss
A temptation I can hardly resist
I see the moonlight in her eyes
She beckons me to give her a kiss
I leap from the unicorn to be in her arms
I see the moonlight in her eyes
Sometimes beauty isn't what it seems
I leap from my unicorn to be in her arms
Then I watch as she is stabbed through the heart
Sometimes beauty isn't what it seems
I am enchanted by her siren call
Then I watch as she is stabbed through the heart
The unicorn's horn hits it's mark
I was enchanted by her siren call
Now I'm appalled by what I see
The unicorn's horn hit it's mark
A scaled monster lays dead on a rock
Now I'm appalled by what I see
How could I ever have been so blind
A scaled monster lays dead on a rock
Blood trickles from the unicorn's horn
How could I ever have been so blind
A beauty in the distance caught my eye
Blood trickles from the unicorn's horn
I ride my unicorn along a rocky shore
Mythological Animals or bird contest.
June 3rd 2013
The poor little thing, he was just a’shivering
Scared right out of his wits I’d see him jolting
Bewildered, seeking strong arms to hold him tight
To make him feel a little safe and calm his fright
Though at times I’d feel earth’s sudden trembling
To me t’was but torrential rains with bolts of lightning
Everyone knows I’m deaf since birth just like my aunt
But my dear little dog didn’t buy my being nonchalant
He shivered violently with those pitiful large eyes
As viciously outside the storm continued to terrorize
I took my pooch into my loving arms, got warm
Curled up and together waited out the storm
Tried to appease his pounding heart
Confident was he we’d never be apart
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on February 14, 2018 for contest DESCRIBE A THUNDER STORM WITHOUT THE SENSE OF SOUND sponsored by BRENDA CHIRI - RANKED 3RD