Long Familyold Poems
Long Familyold Poems. Below are the most popular long Familyold by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Familyold poems by poem length and keyword.
Toasty mornings with teakettles whistling bring to mind Danish days on Marata’s
horse farm, ponies prancing in the unusually warm sunlight, and new fangled
sparkling silver water fountains. Mirada, Karen and Laura’s Mom hosted Bob, Jamie
and I for a summer vacation. We had just settled into the whitewashed kitchen
when the problem was presented to us. For years the housed herd of guest horses
had been watered by filling lovely old white porcelain cast iron tubs which had been
scattered all over the rolling green fields of the farm in Faum.
Mirada had the forward thinking idea of saving farm hand time [and her the hourly
wage] of piping water to these beautiful horses with new fountains! Yes, my
lovelies, all you have to do is push your nose right here. Out bubbles crisp cool clean
water, minus the dead flies, which often drowned in the old tub! Seems horses are
very suspicious. Nope the herd was having none of it. Soon, if not cajoled, they
would be passing out from lack of water in the Danish summer’s heat. What foreign
creature had replaced their friendly old white tub of water? Where was their water?
They saw no water. Sure there was a scent of it from that pole but “What the
heck?” snorted the black stallion shaking his head at the girls.
We were told there would be no breakfast, lunch or dinner for us until we helped
get those horses watered. So off we went, shuffling our feet to a meet and greet
with the herd. Marata and the girls knew the horses. We almost knew a horse from
a cow. I went right up to this large black beauty, pet his nose and rubbed my cheek
on his face, love at first sight! Blackie started following me and we walked toward
the fountain. Then the sun glanced off the dreaded thing and he shied. I pushed the
control, filled my hands with water and brought him some. Lordy, lordy he drank
from my hands! The herd behind him whinnied. I tried to get him nearer the fountain
but it was a no, go. He’d drink from my hands but not the fountain. It just goes to
show you, you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink, is really
TRUE!
*The next morning Laura begged her own pony AGAIN to drink. He finally did the rest did too then ;)
When I first saw her
She was only a few hours old
Instinctively kicking her long legs
Howling
To escape
I knew then
She was
A fighter.
Attracted
To an old drawer
I found
Faded photos
Forgotten pieces
Of crumpled notepaper
Their energy
Taking me back
To a time when
Her hair was brownish gold
Round face
Took baths in a yellow tub
Cradled in the kitchen sink
And cried
When her mother
Worked on weekends.
Eyes closed
I remembered
When she was seven or eight
I would read to her
While she played
With her dolls
Occasionally stopping
To look up at me
With her big brown eyes
One night she asked
Daddy do I have any friends?
I told her she had many friends
Imaginary friends too
Like Ooh Poo Poo Doo
Who would always be with her
That’s a strange name Daddy, she said
Brushing the hair
From her eyes
I said
It’s not the name or how you say it
It’s the friend that counts.
One Spring day
She came back home
Tall
Well dressed
Confident
Her friends crowded the living room
As my wife and I left
I smiled
Remebering the words
It’s not the name or how you say it
It’s the friend that counts.
Words
My daughter
Kept in her heart.