As religion is discretionary
(not hereditary)
it's like a day at the races
a trip no less and here's a tip
while going through your paces
first check the horses' form
pick your odds-on favourite
as is the norm
from worst to best
(forget the rest)
put money on the nose
and place your bet
for yours to win
not those which show(s)
high-risk is high-reward
on the scoreboard
at the rail(s)
say a prayer take note
it never fails
for a day out big buck
winner's tote payout
and with a little luck
through thick and thin
your horsemanship
will come in
But what about the jockeys?
It's not the stakes, bookies' odds,
or those holding the reins...
it's all in the hands of the Gods.
There's a city upon a hill
Where the hybrid natives dwell,
Where the weather brings a chill
And the view is like a spell.
Pine trees grow like wild cane grass;
High-pitched gongs made with brass;
Rocky steps up the trail;
Zigzag road, swirling rail.
Fine young maiden planting veggies,
Lovely roses and sweet berries;
Strong young men with fair skin
To the stars they're like a kin.
Olden ways like tradition;
G-strings worn in fashion;
Woven skirts made with passion,
Graced with love and compassion.
Rip-rap layered with craftsmanship;
Wood carving and horsemanship;
Gorgeous lake amid concrete ground;
Country songs played around.
Cathedral upon a hill,
Long steps give the thrill,
Only those who have the will
Can hold their faith still.
Outside drives of dude ranches or of hobby farms
Cast statues of horses bred from Cortez' runaways.
They stand in basket planted ferns to camouflage their hooves,
Or rear atop a barn as though to jump into a circus pool.
More at home on green way cityscapes.
A scattered cavalry would save us from ourselves.
With piercing stares, their riders try to rally troops
To rout the rest, leave us solitary soldiers of the field.
Frontage roads and roundabouts
Out flank them and surround them.
Traffic blinded how they might retreat,
Or charge, they wait in disarray.
The only value now a century of late
Is a centaur kind of horsemanship:
One goal between an animal and man.
Graffiti by the day adds to epaulets of pigeon .
Mobs would have them roped and quartered down,
Hauled to salvage parks unseen revision of our past.
To those casting heroes into bronze, "Be discreet,
Bronze lasts longer than human judgements do."
Kick ‘em to go,
pull ‘em to stop,
if you love them so much,
don’t use that crop.
There are kinder ways
to ride and train horses,
on a trail, in the arena
and even on the race courses!
The change must start
with you alone,
ask for help or search
the net on your phone.
Be inspired and seek greatness,
choose who you want to be,
ask yourself are you a good teacher
and someone your horse likes to see.
Don’t think for a minute
the horse does not mind,
it really is quite ignorant,
old fashioned and unkind.
So in closing, I guess
what I really want to say and express,
is to seek knowledge, drop your ego
and remember more is less.
My best buddy, a blessed, blue butterfly
Cute, cool and colorful… kind and creative
She’s got wild words with wings to fly
She’s a darling dame, I’m highly emotive.
She is married to Steve… no trespass
I only cherish her happy heart and arms.
She loves to share and care, her kind compass
I’m cocooned in the crest of her cheers and charms.
Tirzah, a terrific talent … too tough… to tame
She’s a witty and wealthy poet… no shame
She wields wholesome words… her great game
She is flying higher, so funny and fiery… her fame.
Horsemanship, her hobby… her pleasant passion
She’s got a mighty mare, ready for the English riding
Right up in her alley, the mare is earning pride and passion,
She’s great and gorgeous; worthy of western… winning.
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