Best Steeds Poems
Every hour
every second
Every minute
of the day
Thank you, Lord
in every way
For my hands
and for my feet
For my heart
Its steady beat
For the grass
and for the trees
For the ocean
and the breeze
For noble steeds
complacent cows
For baby kittens
that say me-ow
For my family
for my friends
For Life’s beginning
and its end…
So, now ‘good-night’
my sleep direct
‘til morning light
my soul protect
This poem was a forest fire; it burned me up as I read it
I was supposedly the writer.
But was I?
Voices inside me are laughing, taking credit, kicking me to the curb.
My next poem is a blizzard.
She whirls me into a whiteness.
This turns into marshmallow crème.
I am quiet for a second,
Landing in a drift, head first, but there is no coolness.
Snow without coldness is not a poem at all.
It’s a fake poem like fake news.
I believe it best to give up now.
Maybe I am no poet at all but a prancing pony
Two steeds prance up. Dragging Cinderella’s coach.
Do not use Cinderella! My muse says meanly.
I stick out my tongue.
Cinderella, Cinderella, Cinderella.
I am easily distracted when imagination is giving me instruction.
Fool of Infiniti
A wanton bird pecks at the stars
A Jester peers through crystal bars
This prison of love with rainbow hue
Illusion parts to lets you through
On dragon wings forever free
You quest into your dreams to see
Smoke and mirrors and shadow haze
To guide you through an endless maze
Slow motion tear rolls down her cheek
Its only passion that you seek ?
Engulfed in strange duality.
She wonders her reality
Your eyes still mock her with desire
Your kisses light her inner fire
Your touch can melt her to your will
But you will never take your fill
Black widow spider guards your heart
She spun the web, she keeps it taut
It is your only fatal flaw.
A secret, silent metaphor.
And all about her swirl the dreams
The nightmares all with voiceless screams
And in her hand the strangest key
To fit the door of What Will Be ?
And when her eyes search yours again
You take her to the spider den
You spin the dreams she hopes to see
And lock your hearts in mystery.
So enter in to lick the flame
Eternal prisoner of the game
Illusion is false imagery
She whispers your Infinity
The Queen of Fate
The Queen of Fate by the outer Gate
Her carriage to Nowhere, will await
Her cloak is wrapped against the night
Her eyes are wide with peculiar fright
Gray horses eyes turn back in fear
With thunderclaps upon her ear
Blue jagged lightning points the way
Along the path to yesterday
Cold, sullen driver cracks his whip
His crooked smile curls round his lip
His horses leap the cruel abyss
Dark Queen of Fate sees none amiss
Above the mist a gate appears
Who will wipe the Gate-man's tears ?
Gray horses strike and paw the air
Fate Queen ascends the carriage stair
And all about her swirl the dreams
The nightmares all with voiceless screams
And in her hand a wondrous key
To lock Enigma's Mystery
Pass through the gate O Queen of Fate
Another carriage will await
Drawn by steeds of Promises
Illusion starts and finishes.
'k kyk neer rivier
wat kronk'lend paaie baan
in dalle vloer
afgemat en steeds geboè
poele plas en blitsend 'kaats
drenkend dans palmiete gras
soos manne kras in kroee
dalk net dromend was
my refleksie in jou oè
Iris geruit as wimpers sluit
was binne-in my hart getoor
en bloedriviere in ons are bruis
vuurspuwend ons in lawa doop
die magma braak in kers se was
dog rooiend en bloedend soos ons passie was
eiland swart en eenkant ek
omring atol n trane oseaan
wat reent verkoeld tektonies bars
in woorde was so onbedoeld
was dit gans so ongehoord
Helaas!! KEER DIT VOOR!
..en eggo steeds nog minder so
When men were kings with steeds
women were handmaids to their needs.
repositories for their seed to grow
...I didn't know.
When men worked to make fields right,
women worked both day and night,
with bleeding hands, she'd try to sew
...I didn't know.
Men talked politics to only men
women weren't allowed back then.
If she had a brain, it mustn't show,
...I didn't know.
A woman couldn't own things herself;
like chattel, she sat on the shelf.
Her children were only his to show,
...I didn't know.
This is one thing to take note:
at one time, a woman could not vote;
until Suffragists began their show,
...I didn't know.
She worked and the check went to the man.
He'd give her cash within his own plan.
Altho tired, she helped her children grow,
...I didn't know.
Now women sit as corporate heads,
doctors, lawyers, all well-read.
We're living in the afterglow,
on the shoulders of all those women
...we didn't know.
Winged Steeds of Mist
Out in the vales of freedom,
of rippled hills and plunging canyons,
there is nought but wind
to carve through the wild horse
Light mane, nostrils flared,
veins like sacred rivers;
heart with a hawk spirit
flight strikes music from
bright pinioned hooves
Coats of shimmering autumn,
pied shadows, blinding snow
Time and mist have scribbled fear
into the sinews
Winged at the first breaking
sounds of intrusion
fear of capture awakens a scream
far older than the sound it emits
escape,escape
pound,strive, wild horse
snort fire and acquire
the secret of flying
fair maiden who sails on each crested wave
drawn from the deepest ocean currents
galloping white steeds land on golden sands
within each beat, feelings growing stronger
exploring beauty within this magically universal dream
developing within every passing moon - joining with shadows we unite souls
I see a starlight shining so brightly, blinking
destinies promise to join our kingdoms
each one bringing you closer into my heart
a thousand gifts wrapped over and back
as silk-white ribbons inside out beams upon your grace
the greatest pleasure is dancing with you under the moonlight gaze
in the distance, at horizon's edge, a darkness
storm clouds approaching from the north
I see the fear in your eyes as the moon turns ebon
white steeds neigh in the wind, fearful of the tempest
a memory? or an omen of things to come?
you release my hand, thunder shakes our universe
lightning illuminates, casting ghostly shadows
I call to you, fair maiden, as you mount your beast
the windstorm drowns out my ardent pleas
what is this spectre that stands between us?
come back, come back o fair maiden of light
alas, the fantasy fades, I stand alone in black of night
waking up the eyes sting, salt-based
missing someone special with whom I shared once upon a time
lost inside the loneliness, nowhere to turn
stuck within a bubble of feelings
where someone will never leave or hide away
standing for a moment in the cold morning mist
listening to the crows call
haunting thoughts drift upon a cloud
with picture memories stored, deeply beautiful
the dream, the dream, it taunts me when I sleep
no longer sure of what is real and what is illusion
tonight, I will close my eyes once again and pretend-
you're still here, with me
A collaboration between Liam Mc Daid and The Seeker
* A collaboration with the awesome Liam McDaid
Fair maiden who sails on each crested wave
Drawn from the deepest ocean currents
Galloping white steeds landing on golden sands
Within each beat growing stronger feelings
Exploring beauty inside this magically universal dream
Developing under every passing moon
Joining with shadows we unite souls
I see a starlight shining so brightly, blinking
Destinies promise to join our kingdoms
Each one bringing you closer into the heart
A thousand gifts wrapped over and back
As silk white ribbons inside out beams upon your grace
The greatest pleasure is dancing with your love under the moonlight gaze
On the horizon, darkness approaches
Ominous storm clouds from the north
Fear in your eyes as moon turns black
Steeds neigh in the maelstrom
Utopian dreamscape becomes Dante's nightmare
You release my hand, thunder shakes our universe
Lightning illumes the sky casting ghostly shadows
I call out to you as you mount your beast
But alas, the cacophony drowns out my pleas
Waking up the eyes sting, salt based
Missing someone special with whom I shared once upon a time
Lost inside the loneliness, nowhere to turn
Stuck within a bubble of feelings
Where someone will never leave or hide away
Standing for a moment in the cold morning mist
Listening to the crows call
Haunting thoughts drift upon a cloud
With picture memories stored, deeply beautiful
Tonight, I will once again close my eyes
and dream of you
Sly low tide sneaks up to smooch the smooth shore
that holds old footsteps left behind us
and lends itself to sand castles
standing guard until high tide
plovers dart on fleet feet
across sodden sands
spindle-legged girls
hunt conch shells —
starfish
found!
Blue
waters
glistening
aqua appeal —
white horse sea-magic
spindrift manes rise from crests
awakened from lowest ebb
high tide arrives on thunder hooves
body-surf Neptune’s steeds to the shore —
my wet hair dries to sun-bleached beachy waves…
Horses in battle with valor showed
In ancient times when conflicts rose
On mighty steeds warriors rode
Swords at the ready to vanquish foes
Modern battles by machines are run
Which allowed the equines to have more fun
Running wild running free
Enjoying a new destiny
In verdant pastures horses roam
Grazing under azure skies
Spending days in serenity's home
Having toiled to earn this prize
3-11-2020
Some Paradise Where Horses Go Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Michelle Faulkner
Swaddled in frozen silence
In a weather so dolorous and damp
The pores of her mind sweat painful memories
Which take a headlong flight
Faster than the beams of light
At times shaking their fearful manes
As unbridled steeds, they come
Raising dust behind
Making all sanity blurred.
Often, they rise from their indulgent stupor
And spill over, submerging all extant thoughts
They never care to stand in queue
Jostling each other with no manners
They bump on one another, breaking all decorum
Like an unruly mob on impatient wait
Caught in the vortex of a whirling current
Her poor body begins to lose its equilibrium
And she plunges into the bottomless depth
To be choked there in whirling gloom!
Hooves of aquatic thunder these white steeds
Of wonder, slamming against the coral reef
As hail storms rage, set us free their voices
Softly speak through the seashells littering
The sandy beach.
Enchantments cursed beast of purity’s beauty
Trapped within the foam and spray, touching
Almost the land then in sorrow’s undertow
Driven back is this mystical herd of wild
Mustangs.
Poseidon’s sacred water horses, surfing
Within the frothy s riptide of mermaid tears,
Clashing their silvery horse shoes, against the
Rocky edges of the under currents tidal surge
These titans of the fathoms deepest depths.
Lightening immortals shimmering, bathing
Translucent beneath the hued blue waves,
The last unicorns beg for release, to run
Freedom trails once more, to feel the
Mountains breezes of liberation flowing
Through their milk white manes again.
But silence is the reply from their capturer,
Unmoved is his trident of power, sitting on
His ivory thrown Poseidon watches these
Wonders of myth, and relishes in their
Spectacular beauty, vowing never to
Set them free, thee belong to me, my
Sacred water steeds of the bluest deep.
Within the seashells hear them weep,
These creatures of the mystical realm,
Crying out, release us please, can thrust,
Not hear us.
Out of the water, to feel mother earth
Beneath our silver hooves, we give our
Horns of crystal power, or the shimmering
Shine that beguiles our under sea father.
Out of the water, we’d roam in the wilderness
Wild, roll amongst the sandy duns of the desert,
Climb the mountain tops heights, and breath
The sweet air of freedom within our lungs.
Out of the water, for just one single day,
We sacrifice all that we are, or were in
Mysticism mystical realm, just to be free!
Hooves of aquatic thunder these white steeds
Of wonder, slamming against the coral reef
As hail storms rage, set us free their voices
Softly speak through the seashells littering
The sandy beach.
Ek was gevra om ietsie oor Pa te sê
Maar waar begin ek nou
Wanneer daar eintlik net een ding is wat ek nou wil doen
Om steeds my arms om Pa te vou
Maar nou is Pa weg
Na ‘n plek waar Pa tog graag wou wees
Bo by Liewe Jesus
Maar bly steeds hier by ons in gees
‘n Man met ‘n hart van goud
Wie slegs goeie dinge oor mense kon sê
‘n Bonatuurlike liefde vir ons
En wie slegs die beste vir sy kinders wou hê
Streng het ons grootgeword
Maar dit was oor Pa lief was vir ons
En alles wat ek as Pa se dogter wou hê
Was dat ek Pa se hart van trotsheid laat bons
Nou is ons Pa en Ma se maatjie weg
Ons belowe om mekaar te ondersteun
En aan die herinneringe te hou van ‘n besonderse man
Wat God slegs vir ons kon leen
‘n Man met ‘n Hart van goud
Dit is hoe ek Pa altyd sal onthou
En nou is dit tyd om totsiens te sê
Al wens ek, ek kon steeds my arms om Pa vou
*Dear PoetrySoup Members. I apologise to those of you who does not understand Afrikaans, but this poem is dedicated to a dear friend of mine who is Afrikaans. She told me a little bit about her father who recently passed on and I decided to put it together in a poem for her. I hope you guys do not mind. TS poetry was an absolute gem and translated what I wrote in my poem in his comment below. Thank you TS Poetry*
Santas little helpers were busy having fun
Wrapping and labelling the presents ready for the Xmas run
The reindeer had their coats washed smelt of lavender and things
The sleigh had been revarnished was now bright and glowing.
The reigns were now polished as a surprise for Santa Claus
So he would look the kiddy not a drab old droopy drawers
The presents were in the sack, in house order for delivery
Santa admired his reigns not realising they were slippery.
He jerked the reigns as a nod for the reindeers"
To start their pulling then it happened, oh dear
The reigns slipped through Santa's fingers reindeer were off at speed
Luckily thomas was out with his tank engine knew he had to try and stop the steeds
He puffed along the track shouting at Santa to hang on tight
Then disappeared into a tunnel giving Santa such a fright
The minions were out in their millions pulling on the reigns to stop the race
While batman flew in voicing his opinion that a race at Xmas wasn't the place
Said to the minions you want to help, Santa is exhausted not in the mood to yo ho ho ho
Deliver these presents off you go but be quiet those children mustn't know
But if you peeped and saw yellow Santas Instead of the usual red one
It's the minions helping out until the presents are all gone.
Santa is snoring now he has had a stressful day
Think before you do more than help it sometimes doesn't pay .
Penned 26 November 2014
My garden brings the fairies,
you will never know the hour.
The sun may just be peeping
past the apple tree in flower.
See them? No! But I discern
pixie clues they leave behind:
the fragrant thyme they danced upon . . .
I am always sure to find
a dewdrop mirror clinging
to a blossom hanging low;
I hear their tinkling laughter
when the breezes softly blow.
Sometimes I think I spy them
riding on a firefly's back
at dusk above the garden,
but their pathway's hard to track.
Jumping off, hiding themselves
in moss blankets--soft delights--
their flying steeds unharnessed.
"Go to sleep, my garden sprites."
Copyright, 5/1/2014
Faye Gibson