Long Gelding Poems
Long Gelding Poems. Below are the most popular long Gelding by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gelding poems by poem length and keyword.
Remember all the Wise Men on their knees upon your yacht?
With orphans on their backs they’d crawled (with others that they’d brought)
Through rubble on the highway sands and residues of Lot.
They came from severed cities selling postcards of your thoughts,
Though offered for a penny piece, not even worth a jot.
They mused
“How are you feeling? What it is you want, you’ve got.
The words you scrawl on calling cards: ‘I AM – the others NOT’
Shun wisdoms of the Seven Seas: ‘Salvation can’t be bought’ –
Your fathers tried before you and your fathers came to naught.
“You started out by gelding goats and then by casting lots
Of bodies to the battlefields, contorted, tight and taut,
Then wallowed in the wake of trails the dervish devil trots.
“With marching bands of fatherlands, and drums of Hottentots,
You lure your legions in harm’s way like giant juggernauts.
Like Tweedle Dum your minions come (the sober and the sots,
The troglodytes, barbarians, and mislead patriots,
The Vandals, Huns and Hannibals and seaport Cypriots,
The Japanese, the Congolese, Americans and Scots)
To vanquish bows and arrows, spears and catapulted shots
Of those who hide in bamboo huts their families, pale, distraught,
(Their withered wives with dried up breasts, their swollen babes in cots)
Who swoon, engulfed in poison darts and vats of acid hot,
Consumed by magic mushroom clouds, atomic megawatts.
“In churches of your deities, your Holy Huguenots,
Your Imams, Rabbis, Voodoo Dolls and Mitered Lancelots
Lit wicked kindled candled walls in temples (while we fought)
(Used pins and needles, magic spells on makeshift mock whatnots)
And mosques, cathedrals, synagogues have blessed each new onslaught
With prayers for pipers, puppets, pawns, your rigid armed robots.
Continued in Part 2…
For more than forty years he mustered horses to the yard,
Reminding all the younger blokes “You’ve ‘gotta’ stay on guard,
For even decent broken horses have a spirit that is high,
And the months of lengthy grazing, can make them saddle shy”.
His spoken word was ‘gospel’ to the ringers on the rail,
As they watched the flighty gelding with it’s sinewed body flail,
In a wretched test of strength between a man and bucking horse,
With just a moment lapsing came a death demanding force.
The sickening thud of hoof against the now defenseless skull,
Placed a numbness through the ringers in a seeming timeless lull,
Some rushed toward their mentor, some to keep the horse at bay,
And every face looked grim as they carried him away.
Time can seem eternal when the basic aids are not of use,
A man is hardly breathing and his limbs are falling loose,
When the doctor is still coming from an hour’s flight away,
And the women of the station ask the station men to pray.
Throughout the day the horses wait beneath the bloodwood shade,
And ringers eager in the morn have felt their interest fade,
Their thoughts are feeling for the man upon a homestead bed,
Not knowing if the man’s alive, or if the man is dead.
Their faces gray and gaunt have their vision quite impaired,
As they sought their own direction and in silence quietly stared,
With prayers of understanding (that ringers rarely speak),
The silence and the waiting turned around their other cheek.
The hours passed to falling dusk and still there is no word,
The whinnying of a waiting horse is all that can be heard,
And the tension in the quarters caused a snap toward a bloke,
When the eerie still was broken by… “Has anyone a smoke?”
Through homestead blinds by shadows, steady movement could be seen,
The ringers broke their silence wondering what the movements mean,
They walked across the yard and heard the footsteps on the floor,
And every mind was focused on the opening of the door.
The two year old mahogany stallion's nostrils flared out
mist in the cool April morning, his veins prominent, his
sweat frothy on his regal neck and muscular chest.
His exercise rider, a youth himself, gently pulled him
to a stop from his run on the dirt track.
"They named you Apollo for a good reason," he spoke
as he patted the frisky colt on his withers. The nearby
elderly railbird nodded in agreement as he spat out
chewing tobacco through yellowed teeth.
I, the author of this prose, am against horseracing.
Some young and older Thoroughbreds break down on
the tracks. Many are euthanized. There is no, "Sport of
Kings," in that.
From idyllic days in the horse farm pastures, fledgling
fillies and colts are separated from their dams who
call out in anxious neighing for their babies as they are
taken into the horseracing world.
Two famous racehorses, the great mare Ruffian, and
the gelding Barbaro, became gravely injured during
races. They had surgery but the rehabilitation process
for both unfortunate horses became too complicated,
and they were euthanized.
Please, no more sacrifices of beauteous horses,
no more exercise riders and jockeys falling to the earth.
A Kentucky Derby winner, Ferdinand, was sold and then
killed in a Japanese slaughterhouse.That is the fate of
some racehorses. This is a blood sport. Please boycott
horseracing. Please also boycott dog racing. Dogfighting
is another cruel abomination. The animals can't speak
for themselves, we must speak up for them. ~
Cal Expo's vibrant colourful crowd jewels as treasures ~
A sea of laughter excitement such anticipation ushering in together
The end of a summer's fading year; this turning of a decades leaving her world
Behind escapism's wonderful sights to rest and then capture Utopias hearts
within a bottle's
Dream filled sighs memories amid this scrapbook; postcards, collected
throughout time
Beyound his midway's bright lights, stuffed animals, thrill rides their fairest
wheel turning
Screams and smiles joy and laughter precious, priceless lives ~
Walking up to the finish line gazing upon it's post parade: unable to recollect
As unto exactly which race this was ? Everything coming to a halt frozen while
He looked into my eyes warmed by, this immaculate thought possibilities, of a
recent borne....
High stepping prancing silent words to be reserved, for a late Autumn's morn
many years
Later this page revealed ~ A chestnut gelding; no one else around; just he
and I ?
Coming down the home stretch amid a chorus in jubilee's cheers searing their
poles as passing ~
Golden dust rising from aneath His hooves shining, majestic mane be that; of
a crown something magical now
Stirring within these whisperings her softly spoken wind my very Soul: New
horizons the bluest tomorrows love's, metaphor....
***************************************************************
**********************************************
....`His name, "Get Up America?!" ~
Form:
Cal Expos vibrant colourful crowd; jewels as treasures?!
A sea of laughter and excitement; such anticipation
Ushering in together the end of a summers, fading year....
This turning of a decades, leaving the world behind ~
Escapisms wonderful sights; to rest, and then to capture
Utopias hearts within a bottles, dream filled sighs
Memories amid this scrapbook; postcards, collected throughout time....
Beyond the midways bright lights and stuffed animals; thrill rides!?
The fairest wheel turning; screams and smiles; precious lives ~
Walking up to the finish line, to gaze upon the post parade
Unable to recollect, as unto exactly which race, it was
Everything coming to a halt; frozen; as he looks into my eyes....
Warmed by this immaculate thought; possibilities, of a recent born?!
High stepping and prancing; silent words, to be reserved
For a late Autumns morn, many years later; this page so turned ~
A chestnut gelding; no one else around; just he and I....
Coming down the home stretch, amid a chorus of jubilant cheers
Searing, the poles as he passes; golden dust rising from beneath his hooves!?
Shining, majestic mane as that of a crown; something magical, now
Stirring within the whisperings, softly spoken wind ~
Into my very soul; a new horizon; the bluest of metaphors....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
His name, "Get Up America?!" *
Form:
Cal Expos vibrant colourful crowd; jewels as treasures?!
A sea of laughter and excitement; such anticipation
Ushering in together the end of a summers, fading year....
This turning of a decades, leaving the world behind ~
Escapisms wonderful sights; to rest, and then to capture
Utopias hearts within a bottles, dream filled sighs
Memories amid this scrapbook; postcards, collected throughout time....
Beyond the midways bright lights and stuffed animals; thrill rides!?
The fairest wheel turning; screams and smiles; precious lives ~
Walking up to the finish line, to gaze upon the post parade
Unable to recollect, as unto exactly which race, it was
Everything coming to a halt; frozen; as he looks into my eyes....
Warmed by this immaculate thought; possibilities, of a recent born?!
High stepping and prancing; silent words, to be reserved
For a late Autumns morn, many years later; this page so turned ~
A chestnut gelding; no one else around; just he and I....
Coming down the home stretch, amid a chorus of jubilant cheers
Searing, the poles as he passes; golden dust rising from beneath his hooves!?
Shining, majestic mane as that of a crown; something magical, now
Stirring within the whisperings, softly spoken wind ~
Into my very soul; a new horizon; the bluest of metaphores....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
His name, "Get Up America?!"
Form:
Cal Expos vibrant colourful crowd; jewels as treasures?!
A sea of laughter and excitement; such anticipation
Ushering in together the end of a summers, fading year....
This turning of a decades, leaving the world behind ~
Escapisms wonderful sights; to rest, and then to capture
Utopias hearts within a bottles, dream filled sighs
Memories amid this scrapbook; postcards, collected throughout time....
Beyond the midways bright lights and stuffed animals; thrill rides!?
The fairest wheel turning; screams and smiles; precious lives ~
Walking up to the finish line, to gaze upon the post parade
Unable to recollect, as unto exactly which race, it was
Everything coming to a halt; frozen; as he looks into my eyes....
Warmed by this immaculate thought; possibilities, of a recent born?!
High stepping and prancing; silent words, to be reserved
For a late Autumns morn, many years later; this page so turned ~
A chestnut gelding; no one else around; just he and I....
Coming down the home stretch, amid a chorus of jubilant cheers
Searing the poles as he passes; golden dust rising from beneath his hooves!?
Shining, majestic mane as that of a crown; something magical, now
Stirring within the whisperings, softly spoken wind ~
Into my very soul; a new horizon; the bluest of metaphors....
********************************************************************
His name, "Get Up America?!"
Form:
Charley my wheel horse says that Jim is a yack, always jawing now.
They are both scrunchers, they nearly swallow their teeth on chow.
Jim is unsalted, but not lazy or slow, although he has trail dust grime.
He always responds well to “all hands and the cook” and in good time.
When the Mexican vaquero joins us, there is back slapping sure.
That’s when the biscuit roller trades in biscuits for tortillas, pure.
A ballyhoo? I do not think so, Bar dog. Can I get a John barley corn?
I would like to drink the cattle drive off my spurs, until it be morn.
How much does it cost to stay in the dice house tonight?
Don’t want to be honey-fuggled, so no Kansas sheep dip, all right?
a fresh mail order cowboy just entered the saloon, of course.
Don’t want to be a nosy parker, but did he just dismount the iron horse?
Did you see where I put my gelding smacker? I sleep with it naturally.
I am no lapper, but I could go for another John Barley Corn from thee.
Texas cakewalk tomorrow? Hmmm I wish I could stay but I am dragg’n.
Say hello to my cousin Sam, he drives the county’s meat wagon.
I kind of like a good hang’n when there’s a well-deserved California collar.
Was they horse thieves or murderers or what? Hey give my horse a holler.
I thought I saw a Cottonwood blossom when I rode into this place.
But there was no hellaballoo, so I wondered if it was the case.
Then entered conversation wife with fright,
as Jose spoke things patron needed know.
"And you'll never be, Don Huerra. I've best sailing record of any coast line.
My times are best, rates lowest, safety record unmatched."
"What are you men talking about now, Jose? Wind's starting to blow again and
I'm getting cold. I do wish I'd brought my shawl. Look at those clouds! Do
they mean more rain?"
Both men looked at the sky. Nimbi heaped the heavens. More rain was coming.
"I think we've time to reach home if we hurry," Don Jose answered his wife.
"Why can't Senor Huerra's foreman drive us home, Jose? We don't have
to see the ship and it'd save time for you to go directly there. Perhaps his
man will continue to be gracious letting you use his horse. He can bring
the carriage later for Captain Thompson."
"El Segundo would be honored for you to sit his horse, Excellency. I myself
would consider it a rare privilege to ride at you side."
"What kind of horse does Diego Silva ride, Senor Huerra?"
"A black gelding, Excellency. Saddle is of the best leather with much silver on
cantle, stirrups and bridle. It would match your handsome black jacket and
pants. I pale in comparison."
"Idea is good, Don Huerra, but I must judge the horse and saddle myself."
"Certainly, Excellency."
"What do you ride? "
"A very insignificant sorrel."
The cowboy took her in his arms
and waltzed her round the floor.
He told her how much he loved her
how he couldn't love her more.
From the moment he first saw her
when he'd held her in his arms,
he'd vowed to keep her safe
from any kind of harm.
They talked about the days just past
when she had climbed up on his knee
about the time he hung her swing
up in an old pine tree.
The first horse that he had bought her
a paint gelding she called"Friend."
They had some fine adventures
and she could ride him like the wind.
Somehow, someplace his little cowgirl
had become a woman grown
and today was her grand wedding day
she was no longer his alone.
They waltzed around the room once
more a tear was in his eye,
"Oh, Daddy, don't you do that or you're
gonna make me cry!"
He whispered, "You're the darling of my heart,
I just wanted you to know."
As he held her close just one last time
it was hard to let her go.
He took her hand and he gave her
to the young cowboy by her side
who had stole away his baby girl
this lovely glowing bride.
But, he whispered as she turned away
"I love you, I hope you'll always know...
and then he turned and blew a kiss
and then he let her go.