Long Horse Poems

Long Horse Poems. Below are the most popular long Horse by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Horse poems by poem length and keyword.


The Dark, Dark Room

The Halloween Party was in full swing
Witches, wizards and an alien thing
with tentacles and one huge eye
Flourishing a laser gun shouting "Die".

Alison and her friends Ada and Jo
Were all dressed as feline kittens "meow"
Carl and Simon had laced the fruit punch bowl
As the evening drew on it took it's tole.

Drunkenly a bet was stupidly placed
Who of them would last and not be outpaced
A nightly vigil at Haunted Creek
Where rode a phantom horseman, there to seek.

Everyone there all knew the awful tale
Making in unison a quick inhale
It was long ago in 1702
A mounted stallion there cast a shoe

The rider's name was Squire Abraham Knight
Was set upon and put up a good fight
He was then butchered for a gold doubloon
Was then thrown in the creek and found at noon

Unexplained sightings, that then disappear
have been recorded, it is very unclear
Warnings come from parents to their own child
No-one goes there, it is left to grow wild

With youthful bravado they all met there
Torches flashed around, as the trees stood bare
Alison and her friends huddled together
Shivering in the inclement weather

Bart and his brother camped down for the night
on a hillock, keeping the creek in sight
Joining them was the terror gang of four
Troublemakers, who all acted hardcore.

Two hours later it started to snow
Huge flakes falling and wind began to blow
"I've had enough of this" said Alison
"I'm all for going home. I'm all done!"

Eagerly agreeing, walked back in step
Suddenly Jo tripped up and in pain wept
"Can't go further, my ankle is wrecked"
Leaning on shoulders, onwards they all trekked.

"No, I can't, please, you must stop", poor Jo wailed
"It's agony! she gasped and then inhaled.
"Come on Jo, we can stop at Adam's place".
"We will make it there at a slower pace.

Adam's place was an old abandoned farm
"No, not there!" said Ada-May in alarm
"Afraid of ghosts and ghouls?" mocked Alison
"More like rats and spiders and not much fun!".

Giggling they arrived at old Adam's place
The moonlight showing fear on each girl's face
"We have to go in there, we have no choice"
Jo jumped. "Was that whinnying of a horse?"

On that retort they threw open the door
Stepping inside, they all dropped through the floor
Not one of them survived their dreadful doom
Trapped, without rescue, in the dark, dark room.............
Form: Rhyme


Poems of the Nature

1.	THE STORM

COPYRIGHT-POETESS-ANJALI DENANDI,MOM

The storm - from where, it comes

Why - comes, it ?        Where, it goes ?

When - it came first ?

Forever it goes and comes

Has it any good effect ? Who knows ?

Destroy ! Just destroy ! Just- !  Must !

The nature becomes calm -

All know - it is the before stage of storm !

Oh! Fear !  The nest thinks - on the tree palm !

The storm has no own form ;

Yet - it has very strong action !

Which can break the mother's  emotion !

Lives become hopeless by it !

Forever It can stop the heart beat !

Branches never come back as alive !

The buds and baby-birds never come back !

But the storm returns again and again ...!

Bee-eggs never come back -

But after storm - again bees build the hive !

Though trees feel pain -

Yet - branches , buds come back again !

The new branches , buds , baby-birds , eggs -

Take place on the empty places -

The new nests become happy again !
Cont’d
But no kindness of the storm's invisible legs ,

These always break the sweet dreams !

For these bad works - the storm feels the happiness !

To the storm - who blesses ? ! -

Try - in minds - for own love placings !

Oh ! The storm ! What do you mean ? ! -

Now - find and think about blessings !

Yes ! Yes ! Yes ! - - -

Be the well wisher of the nature ! Please !

Not destroys - creations are the lives - keys !

In front good works - down your knees !

Know - follow - who is your creator ? Who is ---

2.	AN AIRY AFTERNOON

COPYRIGHT-POETESS- ANJALI DENANDI,MOM

In an airy  afternoon-                

I float by my little boat, on river-

Smiles, on sky, the silent moon-

I gift it my loving-look, from very far!

Waves touch my feet, which are naked;	

These waves are too busy-

These never come back!

Some very little children, they are naked,

They enjoy around my boat, I see and see---

And eat pop-corn from my jute's sack;

Fishes are seen sometimes on open air-

Again hide in deep water;

My white sail- is in joy of freedom!

I reach very far from my little home!

My pets, my dog and my talking parrot,

Freely walk on my happy boat;

I call,"Hey! Children! Come here!

  Yes! Please! Stand on my side;"

They do, like my speech!

Then go and on a big horse, they ride!

Which stands on bank, without speech!

Lazy Dream Mysterious Death

From the heart of green naïve village
surrounded by corps field, mosque, ponds, 
ancestral grave yard, school, college, 
madrasah (islamic school) etc he is

brothers, sisters with parents, a beautiful family 
with relatives, neighbors he had

learned person he was, full memorizer of 
the Holy Quran and institutional study was 10th grade

but dreams touched his eyes, his breaths, his veins
the dream in the hollow eyeballs of him
flaring dreams have been gathered in his sight
dreams touched his ideality, his mediocrity, his learning
against the holy verse
dreams touched him inseparably 
dreams touched him within vain clothing
dreams touched him within flirting industrialist mind
dreams touched him within merciless sky scraper building
dreams touched him within fake benevolent charity right hand
dreams touched him abortive assurance giving to others in generosity smiling

dreams made him blind to the path of income
small income once made up him happy with family and relatives
but leaving small, come to big on the lame stretchers dreamy boat

he did not understand- dreams in lazy hands is 
misfortunate hell for upcoming every steps

dreams made him luxurious ambitious as 
the begging bag before learning how to beg

dreams made him laughter in garrulous argument 
as happiness of billionaire under torn blanket
in biting cold winter dreamy night

dream made him foolish dandy in business world 
as Xerox machines copying activities 
which has no personality to make another root 
to survive with it as parasite
  
dreams made him passerby the dark path
dreams made him lonely walker
dreams made him lonely resident on title-less building of hill view
dreams made him unknown religious in the eye view of unfamiliar him
dreams made him a dark horse in flattering broker world
dreams made him hilarious land lord in his verbose copying documents
dreams made him a beggar in heavenly real eyes of the sun, 
crystalline day approved him he was dreamer only

from the dreams he made his journey to be great 
benevolent helper of relatives and neighbors
he was dreamer but in paralyzed bone and indolent veins
and this dream awakens him in tears of mysterious death

(Written on my Maternal Uncle Hafez Abdul Allam 4th July 1962-29th July 2018, who was inactive but great dreamer, but sudden death of him makes us heart rending cry)

The Durable Mick Malloy a True Story

In Jan, nineteen thirty-three, there was man called Mick Malloy
At the time he was an alcoholic and a poor homeless boy.
A young Irish fire-fighter out of work
He left his home in Donegal - to find some in New York.

He fell in with five real bad men
Who wanted to cause murder back then.
Poor Mick they had him in their sights
An insurance fraud, they brought to light.

They signed three life policies on Mick
Now they had to kill him quick.
Unlimited credit in a speakeasy, they gave him
To drink himself to death-they went out on a limb.

Although he drank all day long
His life it just seemed to prolong
They switched to antifreeze instead
Expecting Mick to wake up dead.

With turpentine they then did tempt
But no success, so they switched to horse liniment.
Finally a drink of rat poison, they gave the poor lad
But Mick never ever seemed to get bad.

They tried oysters, then methanol. 
Bad sardines, poison and carpet tacks
But poor old  Mick swallowed the lot,
And still poor Mick kept coming back.

The five would be murderers were baffled
Poor Mick just would not die
The murder trust then knew,
 something else they would have to try.

One night poor Mick unconscious, they stripped him and carried him out
In minus fourteen degrees,naked, not wearing a single clout.
Threw five gallons of water on him, to make sure that he would freeze
Poor Mick returned the next without even a cough or sneeze.
 

Mick returned the next day to order himself a drink
The men were getting desperate they really had to think.
Next they hit him with a taxi and broke lots of poor Mick’s bones
But he had three weeks in hospital, then they sent him home.

The gang had thought that Mick was dead 
But when they tried to claim, poor Mick returned once more
 And kept on his drinking game.
In desperation in February, in fact on the twenty second
They waited for Mick to collapse, then gassed him in a second
A pipe they pushed into his throat and now poor Mick was gone.
The gang did not win even then, no not a single one.

They squabbled and were caught and to Sing Sing them they did send
Four to be fried on the electric chair what a sizzling end
The fifth was sent to prison, which didn’t seem quite fair.
He somehow managed to escape, Sing Sings electric chair
Poor Mick Malloy has been long gone, but will not be forgotten
Just remember to watch your friends though; you never know who’s rotten.
Form: Rhyme

Just the Way It Was

‘Twas way back in them days 
when the ranch owner’s ways
was just about the only law there was around

Rancher’s money was king
and gun violence reigned
till marshal Ben Miller made his way into town

Well that town was real rough
till Ben said ‘twas enough
that’s when he used his guns to bring law to the street

But there's always that one 
thinks he's fast with his gun
would soon find himself face down covered with a sheet 

For the next twenty years 
Ben had kept the streets clear
of any no-gooders that might drift into town

Then folks started to say 
Ben was showing some gray
maybe his old age had started to slow him down

The councilmen all met
said it is with regret
that we tell you it's time for you to settle down

They baked him a nice cake
a few speeches they'd make
and introduced him to the new marshal in town
 
Town folk gathered and cheered 
told him how twenty years
was a long time to stay on this side of the grave

Ben took a look around 
rode his horse outta town
with his new gold watch and the few dollars he'd saved

That is often the way 
a cowboy's life got played
long ago when the country was still just a pup

When a trusted hired hand 
gave his life for the brand
honest and loyal was the way he was raised up

If you think this is sad 
or Ben's life turned out bad
well then this might be a little good news for you

Was the very next week 
Men lay dead in the street
they had robbed the bank and stole the mayor's horse too

When they tried to get Ben 
to come marshal again
sure don't take no book smarts to know how he replied

Well, he asked widow Jones 
if she'd like to go along
and off to the wide open Montana they'd ride
 
Was a day in March when 
Jasmine married old Ben
Though they had only been courtin' about a year

Said they was gonna go 
where the tall grasses grow
gonna try their hand raisin a few cows and steers

Well they made it alright 
through frozen winter nights
mostly cause they hadn't built up much of a herd

When the next spring turned mild 
it brought both calves and child
after that first year their ranchin' blood had been stirred

It’s been thirty years since 
granpap left Defiance
now I stop alongside his grave near' every day

I watch over his spread 
more than five thousand head
as they grow fat right here on the Rockin’ Bar J
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member To Mom March 11 1979

To MOM; March 11,1979
This is the story of an animal trainer,
Whose mettle and courage, couldn't be plainer. 
A search'd reveal if you'd care to explore, 
None greater exists than El Eleanor.
She's faced the very meanest big game
And transformed them all , smiling and tame.
There's Big Daddy Harry, King of the Brood,
He fights in the jungle and brings home the food. 
When the hunting is hard, his scorn can be raw.
El soothes the pain, takes a thorn from the Pa. 
The next animal is Rusty the Red.
The patron saint of unmade beds. 
A beast of habits, bad ones galore,
His head s in the clouds, his, clothes on the floor. 
El's plans are to put an end to his bad mannered life,
By chasing him within,an inch, of. his wife. 
Lindsey's the next, she's no longer wild.
El taught her well when she was. a child,
Out of the home and into the night, 
She's now a trainer in her own right.,
By way of taming by putting a smile on, 
She's done a dog, a .cat, and one big Italian. 
The animal Robert likes his milk whole,
Drinks only unmixed, unopened and cold. 
Devour, he can, a whole pound of meat, 
Sharing with him sure ain't a treat.
El''s main defense against his devour'n, 
Is a refrigerator as big as a cavern.
Next on the tour tour is Kristin Clothes-Horse. 
Her closet is full, but never her purse.
El hopes to prevent a new"confederacy"
One which would a poor man, namely, "Poverty Lee". 
Now we find Jenny the Baker.
With time, she's become quite the good pastry maker. 
Jenny however''s a wrestling cook,
An odd combination that's not in the book,
She has her own reasons, for truth to tell, son,
The cooking is a wrestling move called a"full Nelson". 
Hilary's a creature who likes to get around
In automobiles at the speed of sound.
She doesn't always though, 'specially not at night, 
Then she likes to travel at the speed of light.
It's hard to see now but she's on the track,you see, 
Of her own future business - called Hilary's Taxis. 
Nori's the last, but not the least,
A full member of this zoo, and like the rest a beast. 
A paradox of sorts, this Blue Prize winner,
Is proof that church schools are chock full of sinners, 
Thus we are the animal house,
And though we may complain and grouse, 
Everyone, no matter his status,
Thinks El Eleanor's got to be, the World's Greatest!
Happy Fifty-fifth Birthday,
From son Rusty,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Unlucky Jim , the End

Bank robber Jim was one unlucky bloke
Went to draw his gun but the holster broke
It dropped on the bank floor
And went off with a roar
The shock was too much and he had a stroke...

Though he was unconscious he hadn't died
Woke in a coffin for his final ride
In a desparate bid
Banged on the coffin lid
But all he could hear was laughing outside...

Written 17th June 2021

Then someone shouted can you hear banging
It was quite faint because folks were singing
The sheriff prised off the lid
And he was so glad he did
Because he thought we'll have us a hanging...

Jim didn't know whether to laugh or cry
Resigned himself to the fact that he'd die
Saw sheriff holding a rope
Realised there was no hope
And for unlucky Jim the end was nigh...

He was taken to the gallows in town
Handcuffed and wearing nothing but a frown
Jim was then starting to choke
But with the drop the rope broke
The crowd screamed as poor Jim came tumbling down..

Unlucky Jim jumped up quick as a flash
As he passed the bank ran in and grabbed cash
He stole the first horse he saw
Then let out a loud yee haw
And for sweet freedom he made a quick dash...

Written 19th June 2021


A bounty hunter called Nevada Slim
Went after bank robber Unlucky Jim
With tracker Spirit Bear
They discovered Jims lair
And Jim's future was now looking quite grim...

Slim called out "put your hands in the air"
Jim grabbed his gun,  Slim said "don't you dare"
But Jim was too fast
And let off a blast
Slim fell dead then Jim shot Spirit Bear...

Jim quickly packed his things and rode away
Thankful that he'd survived another day
He decided to lie low
But what old Jim didn't know
Was that Pinkertons were heading his way...

Jim was sleeping in the afternoon sun
And didnt hear the cocking of a gun
He woke up with dread
Saw guns at his head
And a lawman said "Jim looks like your done"...

Jim was handcuffed and they rode back to town
There to meet them was Sheriff and Judge Brown
The charges were read
Jim nodded his head
Sheriff said " this time Jim you're going down" ...

For Jims last request he asked for a smoke
And noticed the hangman had a new rope
He put a hood on Jims head
Jim dangled then he was dead
An escape this time!, there wasn't a hope...

Written 1st July  2021



RIP UNLUCKY JIM
Form: Limerick

Darlene Street

What on earth is going on over there, do you have something to share, what on earth is going on over there, you are acting as if you don’t care. Is there any good news for us? Is there any recipe in the cook book? She always has something new to cook.

 There is food in the pantry but the drain is clogged up, you have to get the technician to remove the plug before the day is done so that you can get the food from the pantry. 

 The wine is fine but there are few berries on the vine. You have got to put in a new crop before the autumn ushers in. They have the grain, the water and the drain; they just need a helping hand to clear the land.  

The drums are leaving the town and the villains are homeward bound, the oligarchs are surveying the place and the customers are running all over the place. Everyone is looking for the best price before they roll the production dice. The season for the “bleeding” can be so demanding when you have twenty meetings in one day and nothing positive is coming your way. Negative energy will make you sick, and kinetic energy will throw you off the cliff. 

Oh, I almost forget the shares; India has rice and beans to spare some people dislike the frosting on the cake because some flavors are out of date. 

The Indian rice is white and it is piling up to the sky, the people will  starve to death if you don’t act before the break of Dawn. 

Narendra Modi, the King of the East must gather his administration in front of the beast, to discuss the rice ban before starvation devastates the land.

 We don’t understand the reason for the ban, is it to purge the bad people from the land? You cannot allow the good to suffer for the bad or you will leave the entire world sad.  

Prime Minister Modi is a good man and he need all the rice to feed the 1.4 billion people on his land .

This has caused some disruption in the global supply market. This is what you should do to protect the horse and the shoe. Export half of your rice to the globe and keep the other half to nourish your people’s soul. 

You can add an extra dollar to the price to compensate for the ruthless sacrifice, consult your loyal customers and apologize for the rice ban. 

You must put the politics aside and serve the people with much delight. Send the people to plant more rice and rescind the global rice ban, Prime Minister Modi…lift the rice ban.

Fare-Well Ole Pard

Farewell old pard, I write this letter to you. Well, I guess I’ll saddle up and ride out with my new pard, he’s only a colt at three.
He’s a real beauty, a real eye pleaser and sure of foot with a cutting pedigree.
I’ll go on out to the rough country where the sky is blue, relive the
old times and try to work the rope a bit, so I won’t be thinking of you.	
We were pards for many a year and we both tote the scars to show
and that cold back you had fairly tossed me hard every morning                                                                                                      before you’d make up your mind to go.
But we never shared a cross word that ever meant much among friends,
Though, you did take a few hard comments when you got ornery now and then.
We purt- near worked in all kinds of weather, rain, snow and even a blizzard or two.
We shared our misery out on the plains when the cold winds off the mountain blew.
We’ve covered a lot of country, any closer, I don’t guess any pards could be
and though you weren’t much to look at, it never meant much to me.
You loved your job and worked it well with light rains and leg ques.  
And there were times when you led the way, and I took my ques from you.
You were not a natural cutter, but you weren’t scared of bulls, cows or steer
and you worked the tight spots eagerly, never showing the jitters of fear.
We were pards, alright, never just a way to get the job done nor pleasure for me,
You loved it too, riding the open range with only the basics that kept us wild and free.
Why did you go and leave me, you just laid down in your stall and I was left alone.
I tell my stories and old pard, I tell yours too, since you’ve checked out and gone.
I look back through the years as I sit here looking over the grass growing high on the range. 
How love for a horse can feel so right is hard for this cowboy to explain.
I can’t help but riminess’ and wonder, were there times you just didn’t feel quite well?
You always took to the saddle and in my selfish way, I never cared to ask, and you didn’t tell
We’d ride out and pretty- soon, you seemed glad you came along and there were
times we trailed in late, long after the sun had gone.
But now I look back on the past and sentimental thoughts tears my eyes and burden me.
Good-by old pard from your old friend, you were the best any pard could be.
Form: Rhyme

Crazy

My friends and I had midnight hide and seek
One had to stand by a tree and not peek
In my state of hiding great I was hard to find
My friends decided to just be unkind
They all got together and decided to hunt me down
I first hid in the river near my house and almost drown
When they walk close by me I silently move through the grass
It was very hard to see, but I crawled a long time and almost ran out of gas
Then I heard one say that they were going up and wait by the tree
I had an idea that made a way to make them see
A shadow that ran in the distance thinking that would be
I had my horse pull a little manikin to make them think it was me
My friends took their flashlight and shined it toward it
I thought I had them but one thing was clear they did not fall for it not a bit
They all laugh and started to call out my name
They all asked how the heck did you have time to pull that trick that was so lame
I did not answer so they kept on looking for me, but I was so quick 
Some of my friends started to get really mad and tick
I was a master of doing weird things they all knew what I can do
The night was still young and the grass was collecting dew
I decided to make a distraction once again
To think of it, it would probably make the night end
My friends finally surrounded my tree house
I was quiet, so quiet, more than a mouse
I had some rope in the tree house to make my escape
To distract them I made a loud noise like an ape
The tree that my tree house was in was at least forty feet up
I had some stash in my tree house a drink or two in a cup
My final hour is about to end I did not want my friends to catch me till I got to the tree
I took the rope and tide it on a branch and pushed off and that was the key
I landed on the garage roof and sneaked my way to the tree
My friends knew me to well that they plan things before I could see
They had a fish net ready for me to step into
I thought that was kinda wise and some what like pew
The few feet by the tree there was two of my friends that was ready
Up in the tree they both jumped down and pulled me up in the net fast and steady
They thought they had won, the person had to tag me before I touch tree
She ended up having to get something to stand on to reach me
I swung my weight back and forth till I ended up touching and the game ended
My friends and I were so full of surprises and that is what the game handed
Form: Narrative

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