Hoofbeats Poems

Cobblestone

my eyes sink into cobblestone
streets to hear hoofbeats and Paul Revere

Recipe for Eagle Meat

We've used our gifts 
to... 
watercolor disease
potter haloes of love into horns of hate
knitting the fallout of nuclear dreams.

Evolution is unwinding at the speed of light.
DNA is drunk on the cheap wine of the ID. 
America the beautiful sounds like the death rattle of Rome...
Both envied and hated in equal doses.
Veins of freedom clogged by the cholesterol of ego.
Our elders sounding evermore unhinged...
In front of the world, they squabbled about 
who's better on the links...while sworn enemies
exchange recipes for preparing eagle meat.

We've chained our children to robots
(and we thought they paid little attention to us).
They squirm equally within the envelope of eye contact
constructive criticism and compliment.

Everybody's pointing dirty fingers
only to be chopped off.
Bloody fingers are everywhere
from Whitehouse to the church of our fair Christ.

The four horsemen are approaching
albeit in the thin shadow of sundial time.
Feel their hoofbeats 
clacking against our cobblestone souls?

Fading Drumbeats

Long past war’s fading drumbeats 
And beyond the miasmic mists of time
Run undercurrents that displace peace 
And fancied futures hoped sublime.
Once staccato beats of war drums abate  
Far from war graves and their dead,
We find loved ones’ dismal fates 
And lonely lives now filled with dread.

Soldier’s sojourn in the dash dividing 
Dates on their eroding tombstones
Remind us that their lives, though exciting,
Ended not with hope but love unsown.
Once draftee’s dreams become forgotten 
And their past romances are long since lost,
All that remains is what God left them  
And scars they earned at frightful costs.

We too, wonder what will become of us 
And we hope to pass our test divine
Once life’s abating hoofbeats leave us 
And we’re enveloped by the fog of time.
Who will remember who we were? 
Who will proclaim, “I KNEW THEM WELL?”
Who will stop and silently ponder 
What our tombstone epitaphs fail to tell.

Prisms

Angilar Shadows

Beams of light peeking through reflections

Cheerfully dancing over the walls and floors

Dipping to and fro in solar refractions

Every light building a tapestry if wonder

Fairylike flits of gold and silver

Gathering at certain points and then dispersing

Hiding in corners and cracks and then reappearing

Idly forming circles of synchronistic power

Just as it begins to rain and the dance ceases

Kindly replaced by shadows of raindrops instead

Like a dreary grey curtain with sound effects

Mastering the sound of light hoofbeats on the roof

Never-ending payyering on the wimdows

Out comes the sun again and the joy returns

Prisms pf multi-colored made me smile

Quitely returmimh in their silemt dance

Reeling in patterns of kaleidoscope

Shimmering images in bright welcome

The changing colors made me smile

Undeniably I will be sad when the sun goes down

Violets, golds, silvers, greens and yellows

Will be departing and resting for the night

Xtras will be arriving when the moonbeams shine

Yellow sends silver amd the commence the dance

Zigzagging across the walls again

Wild Mustangs

We heard their hooves twenty minutes before they appeared
stallions and mares rounding the corner of the world at break leg speed
blur of  red, black and gray wild mustangs, free to roam the plains
Wyoming’s finest specimens, some sixteen hands high

giant powerful wildebeests disappeared as rapidly as they appeared.
will never forget those strained necks or those drumming hoof beat
eterea flash sight not seen by me in the next fifty-one years.
Sometimes I hear those hoofbeats in my dream, my heart leaping.

Virus's Identity

It springs like rain on mown grass
Winds murmur over quiet pines
No hoofbeats of horseman lost
No limpid water from deep springs
oasis lift from arid sand.
Barbarian rides past towers without watchman
Deep thunder in mountain thrown up
Footprints of the darkness
stone like starkness
Harrowing & unhalting.
Grand inquisitor, earth's jailhouser
coverned deep and iron ringed
submerged in auto-cage of steal
Far from end and near to nowhere
lifting our heads to the light of God:
Spare my family and friends, thou great
keeper of souls
In its direness and darkness
footprints of light, our bodies taken,
our self retaken,
wastelands of ruins heaped with ash

mea culpa, mea culpa

Hollow

Hollow

Well-earned vacation at last
A tough work week in the past
Nice evening walk in faint fog
Along the banks of a bog 

Some dog howling up ahead
A growl filling me with dread 
I pause at the sudden yelp
Should I turn back or go help?

Feet rooted, I strained my ears
Breaking branches fuel my fears
Dog’s whine begged me to follow
Deeper into the Hollow

I use words as a writer
Certainly not a fighter
So, hearing hoofbeats sounding
I turn away, heart pounding

Old Dutch wives’ tales I have read
Hessian horseman with no head
And British spies, haunted lies
Speed my run, my urgent strides

Hoofbeats closer, I look back
At the source of this attack
Now too dark for me to tell
I let out a startled yell

I’d tripped on pumpkin unseen
Discarded last Halloween
Lungs burning, I found my track
To the lodge, I’d made it back!

Rested adventure writer
I pulled the wool throw tighter
While sipping hot cocoa with marshmallow
Living the Legend of Sleepy Hollow

March 1, 2020
Contest: Your Favorite Legend, First Place
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke

Cupids Arrow

When last we spoke 
	An image came

This latest journey 
	The latest challenge 

That will test
	The strength of 

Our RESOLVE to
	Build upon the love

Begun long ago	
	Now re-inspired

Hesitant at first like the 
	Faltering steps of a foal in spring 

Struggling to stand 
	Kicking up its heels 

Now thundering hoofbeats
	Racing toward an

Ever closer
	 finish line
	
Two hearts then 
	Pierced

By arrows from
	A Cupid’s bow

Souls now merged by
	Love in overflow

Winter of Days

Look up at the Eastern sky where the winds blow
Feel the icy fingers that will soon bring whitest snow
Cattle hide in dense groves of trees, lowing pitifully
wanting to go to the barns and find warmth immediately

Soon icicles will hang from roofs like lollipops  for kids
Every icy bucket will freeze solid if they have no lids
All the earth holds its breath waiting for the sound
of hoofbeats pulling sleds along the frozen ground
 
When the wind shifts you can smell the coming of snow
Everything will shine with its perfection all aglow
Caps and mittens, scarves and gloves will be brought out
and you will hear the sound of children's voices as they shout

Make a fire nice and warm, till the heat is there for our toes
Get the tissues ready for those both big and small for their nose
What peace is on the earth when everything it snowy white
Suddenly things have a way of seeming to be all right

Looking Glass Labyrinth

You're navigating life's jagged labyrinth. 
Filled with clutter-a million things to contemplate.
There's no turning back for the nest of youth is sacked.
At the end of every journey lies life and its brother death. 
      For the first time you feel the hoofbeats and the snorts.
With every blind turn there is fear, in all its white-hot forms.
There is a minotaur who wishes to gore your destiny.
To cheerful to glean the cherry picker from the cherry tree.
      In the blue distance you gaze upon that golden mist. 
But turn away, for its just the smolder from the burning ID.
In the shadows lie smirking angels and smiling thieves.
The glow of truth makes you light, but deception chains the feet.
     You're growing weary now, all paths trodden, say for one.
Upon it sits the minotaur with horns stained with your blood.
Walk boldly on -walk boldly on-for its nothing to dread or fear.
It's just the phantom of your doubt holding up a fun house mirror.
Finally, there it gently lies, is it what you've always dreamed.
Is your virgin spirit the perfect fit for its destiny?

The Sounds of Christmas

There's music of the holidays Playing on the radio There's Christmas decorations Almost everywhere you go.
The Salvation Army bells Ring out for the poor  The "Ho,ho." of Santa Claus In the department stores.
Carolers sing Christmas songs  Going house to house - Tales about, where no one stirs Not even a mouse.
Hoofbeats in fresh fallen snow Pulling an open sleigh - Children asking Mom and Dad "Is Santa on his way?"
Cracklin' from the fireplace - Roasting chestnuts 'neath the coals - The soft murmur of prayers Said for the lost souls.
Friends and family gather To toast, Christmas cheer - There's sounds of angels singing If you really want to hear.
The sounds of Christmas, fill the air As we celebrate His birth - Wishing joy, to all mankind And peace to all on earth.

Wild Dreams

Last night 
I heard hoofbeats
wild dreams
today next door
a wooden kennel

Horse Story

Horseman 
Canter

Equine
Panter

Hoofbeats 
Thumping

Mammal 
Jumping

Eat dust
So long

Fastest
Furlong

January 2017 - the Leader

JANUARY 2017 – THE LEADER

Hoofbeats from a strange land,
As cascading Thunder roared, 
upon the horse of prosperity, 
     he rode purposely,

Many embraced him as disciples,
  Others laughed and jeered,
     A fool has come today,
   But his garments are fine,

Not a son of god nor prophet,
  But rain in a drought,
    For the thirsty,
Who had tasted sand,

  A destroyer for others,
 ancient dams would fall,
Thunder, blessings, cursing’s,
 For The Leader had come,


  A Time of fear for her,
  A Time of hope for him,
They danced in bitterness,
Why this volatile disunion,

The Leader on his day,
Shouted visions for disciples,
unbelievers swam in confusion,
Many cried and screamed,
              Alas,

James Kirk-Wiggins (c) 2017

Scarborough Fair

The war was finally over,
so Parsley, Sage, Rosemary
and Thyme were all waiting 
in anticipation by the clover,
standing in the town square
all dressed up to the nines,
wearing their bodice gowns and
bonnets trimmed with lace and ribbons,
and talking amongst themselves
while looking at the clock tower time,
finally hearing the sound
of trotting horses hoofbeats,
while the soft beating of
their heartbeats steadily increased,
their men in uniforms riding
up and quickly disembarking,
running up to their ladies while
they all cried and hugged one another,
the ladies searching their
brave mens eyes and faces,
looking for signs of war,
signs of scars and anguish,
wondering if their men will
ever be the same,
noticing in their eyes,
the constant look of pain,
slowly walking arm in arm 
home with them past the
Yorkshire military war graves,
while they patted their
women's pregnant belly's 
in the midst of a spring rain...

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