Long Neighed Poems
Long Neighed Poems. Below are the most popular long Neighed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Neighed poems by poem length and keyword.
“Prairie Storm”
The air turned
Deadly still,
The trees no
Longer swayed,
The horses neighed,
The church bells rang
Rabbits ran
For their caves.
Old men rushed
To close their doors.
Storm on the Rise!
Storm on the Rise!
Twister but a mile!
Be here in a while!
Hurry, grab the kids
To the cellar quick.
We haven’t the time
To worry.
It’s coming with a fury
The clouds grew deadly black
As deadly black can get.
Whipping and churning,
Rumbling and growling,
Twisting and swirling,
A tail was coming
With a vengeance it came:
Bolting and striking,
Snapping and crackling,
Exploding and blasting,
The tail kept churning.
The roof from the
Barn was thrown.
The windows in the
House were blown.
The trees ripped
From their roots.
The horses ran.
The rain
Came pounding.
The hail
Came battering.
The wheat field
Turned to straw.
Up from the cellar
The family rose.
The mother poured tears.
The father fell to his knees.
The little ones clung
To mother’s skirt.
There was little left.
His dreams disappeared.
The neighbors
Came calling.
The storm unkind.
He lost his mind.
The church bells rang.
Even today in Texas
after twelve decades
people are narrating
the story of John,
the courageous little hero
who fought two heartless outlaws;
was he allowed to own a gun
and protect his mom screaming?
One of them resembled Deniro
with a trim beard and green eyes.
The horses frantically neighed
frightened by his fast bullets,
the older outlaw felt a sharp pain
and fell off his white horse and died;
the other tried to shoot John twice,
but he missed and fled...
how could a young boy
have shooter's skills,
was he trained by his dad who killed
a jail-breaker as he attempted to halt a train?
That makes any joker laugh realizing that
surviving in a violent town is the only way
to show others one's acquired vice,
not considering taking a life a disownment!
The outlaw's body was buried the next day
by an ironwood tree with a bright color
and the lushest foliage, but does this outlaw feel anything
going above his graves dug in red clay?
Shade or sunlight matter not to him, only someone praying
and disapproving of his death curses the young rambler!
Even the hot stones remember that fatal shooting
no rainfall could wash the bloodstains from them
and the square was proudly called John's Place,
even a monument was built to commemorate his valor;
kids gather around it and sing a hymn to his brave comrade,
anyone thinking of harming them must remember
who took the fatal shot proved that attacking
a defenseless woman is an act of cowardice that dishonors him.
They planted Hank 'neath a lonesome pine when he came to the end of the trail.
Angels ushered him to the Great Beyond and through that Mysterious Veil.
Saint Peter greeted him, sayin', "I've been a-hankerin' to meet ya, mate!"
Hank noted a sign readin' 'COWBOY SPOKEN HERE' atop the pearly gate!
"I want ya to meet a posse of pards that've been awaitin' yer arrival Hank;
There's Zeke and Tex, Fred and Jack, Moe and Slade and Jed and Frank."
"Ain't no bacon er beans here" said they, "On the choicest grub we dine!
If'n ya hanker to wet yer gullet, there's a Feller who'll turn water into wine!
And then appeared his faithful hoss Old Dan a-sportin' golden shoes!
Old Dan neighed as Hank caressed his pal and they had a genial schmooze!
On Old Dan's back embellished with silver and gold was a western saddle.
Right then and there Hank mounted Old Dan and off they did skedaddle!
As the Lord promised in the Good Book, a bunkhouse was part of the deal.
He dwelt in a room fit for a King with TV and DVD, seeming so surreal!
Hank wore a cowboy suit adorned with diamonds, rubies and jade,
Plus pointy-toed Calvin Klein cowboy boots and a vest of finest suede!
Lastly, Saint Peter placed upon his brow a bejeweled ten-gallon crown,
Sayin', "Welcome to the ranch, pard! Ye've rode the range with great renown!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
A fortified castle with four towers stood mighty
on a barren, grassless hill,
here once helpless horses trampled down
wounded by pointy arrows...
they neighed and slid down
not having the strength to go further
and deluded the soldiers in heavy armor...
who came to conquer; do these places tell
a story mentioned by troubadours in their ballads...
who left their dear home and took endless risks?
Meadows swarmed with dandelions
were blown away by the speed of their stallions,
and they rode until they met the enemy
and clashing they chanted clamorously...
did they wish victory and glory, or die valorously?
On battlefields, there are no streets
paved with grey cobblestones and people thriving,
only untamed wilderness where blood drips profusely
from faces of dying warriors who cursed God constantly
and now supplicate Him for mercy;
they will face death alone and decrying their folly,
nobody can save them from their misery!
Strum your guitar and find places that tell a story,
where a lover left lovely words on crumbling walls,
for that heart seeking love before they were washed away by rain
and there would be nothing to hope for a lost boy
although moonlight was very radiant and shone among clouds...
with the promise of a serenade that had a happy refrain!
Home at the Ranch
Once, I had a big ranch in, Oregon, technically it is still mine
but I have no way to prove it
one day and far from the ranch, inspecting fences, sudden
cold storm hit, to survive, I shot my horse
cut his stomach open, crept inside, and quickly fell asleep
Awoke, when the storm was over, looked for my horse was gone
maybe a wolf pack had taken its carcass
I walked, or trotted, home to the ranch
the ranch hands were glad to see me and gave me a carrot
although I neighed, they put me in the corral
with the other horses, who knew and shunned me
My widow cried as I stood under the window, brought
tears to many eyes, the widow gave me an apple
Now that she was the owner and had much reasonability
she rode me to get around.
with her sitting on my back, I was careful not to show any
unbecoming excitement.
tragedy struck the widow, got a boyfriend,
a man, I had thought of firing
My intense jealousy made me furious
one day when
they were making love under an oak tree by the river
I kicked them both to death and galloped to the far blue
mountain, I know from experience that there is no justice
for wild horses.
She stood proud and tall
Arms spread wide.......
Her mysterious face serene
Knowledge of past and future in her eyes
Recalling the torrents of the yesteryears
As tiny drops of rain dripped
Into the parched earth below
Unknown to men the rain Goddess smiled
Her drops fell and vanished into the mud
Seeing the future her brows wrinkled
The torrent fell amid thunder
The meadow and the riverside
Were the witness of the fury
Of the gentle rain Goddess.....!
Her white steed whined and neighed
As thunder God appeared......
Oh so handsome was he
As he accompanied the rain
The God and Goddess held hands
As the sleeping village submerged
The future was fearsome
Unknown to man who slumbered
By-Tahera Mannan
Contest- Rain,The Story
Sponsored by- Constance La france ~A Rambling Poet~
Young Barred Jeff the hair once heired and was bard
from Barred Bare Camp cause when bear he was hard.
Neigh,said he in the bairn wear the auld stud nayed,
Owe, eye oh fare Merry her fair must bee paid.
Her fair's dew her an' eye'll faint with me stave.
The auld counselor feinted ass Jeff misbehaved.
My stave is like ewe just ask Merry's made
oar ask the yew in the dew; she'll bleat what eye said.
Barred Jeff maid a song witch told of his whiles
it went on two long wile marry Merry beguiled.
Know boatman with or, oar blacksmith can boar
wench better, he said, of this eye am sure.
Perhaps, a black stallion, perhaps a bold bore
butt, barred Jeff beared was the won who scored.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Young Bard Jeff the heir once erred and was barred
from Bard Bear Camp cause when bare he was hard.
Nay said he in the barn where the old stud neighed,
Oh, I owe fair Mary her fare must be paid.
Her fare's due her an' I'll feint with me stave
the old counselor fainted as Jeff misbehaved.
My stave is like yew, just ask Mary's maid
or ask the ewe in the dew it'll bleat what I said.
Bard Jeff made a song which told of his wiles
it went on too long while merry Mary beguiled.
No boatmen with oar, or blacksmith can bore
wench better, he said, of this I'm quite sure.
Perhaps, a black stallion, perhaps a bold boar,
but, Bard Jeff bared was the one who scored.
Swish tailed Hamish, gloss black Stallion
Proud prize show hero bore blue medallion
Champion head turner tenacious steed
Lonely hoof stomper longed for a companion
Incidence of coinciding reserved to imagine
Narrow minded owners oblivious to his need
High knee haughty mare trotted by his enclosure
Temptation's waft overcame limited exposure
Hamish neighed a friend request, - she agreed
Lake rippled muscle, alpha outraged neck tossed
Winner's whinny recognised chance may be lost
Breaking barriers now became a necessary deed
Chest of windswept lake assisted stable escape
Charging through victoriously, gate swung agape
Asked lady to dance, she daringly took the lead
Dust distubed finesse surpassed usual manuevres
Hamish whispered happily, " Forever, the two of us."
Most cherished equine paradise known while freed
28th July 2020
Written for Contest: Tail End Stanza
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Tall tale conveyed
A little like a charade
Was about a mermaid
Partook in a parade
Long golden hair in braid
Eyes brilliant of gems inlaid
Seated on a throne of jade
Draped in seaworthy brocade
She was beautifully portrayed
While her graceful horses neighed
They passed by a colourful arcade
Enchanted was she by a serenade
Suddenly craved a wild exotic escapade
Ran off with an attractive mate in mascarade
Thought he’d treasure her heart soft as suede
But quickly the wondrous fantasy decayed
Realizing she’d been misplayed
Heartbroken and betrayed
She’d been remiss and overstayed
With much reason to be afraid
Perilously parched if further delayed
She urgently made her way through the glade
To the closest waterfall cascade
Moral of the story aptly made
When you’re a mermaid
Guest in a parade
Whether paid or unpaid
Do not cross the barricade
AP: 2nd place 2025
Submitted on October 3, 2020 for contest SECOND CHANCES NA POEMS of 2020 sponsored by CHANTELLE ANNE COOKE - RANKED 6TH
A moment long ago
The farmer said he needed sand for the fenced-in chicken run
Off we went, hooking the cart to our tiny female horse that had
been so sweet a foal, she was named Dokka (doll)
The beach was long and empty, the cold water of The North Sea
did not invite bathers
When white-topped waves crashed ashore, the water was
translucent with a hinge of green when the sea retracted
made a world-weary sigh.
When the cart was loaded, it was time for lunch, the farmer’s
wife had made a hamper of bread, boiled eggs and cheese;
After lunch and when the farmer had a dram or two, I walked
around feeling great for just being there.
Then I saw two white stallions riding a wave to shore, magnificent
animals with flying manes, galloping to the tree line and
disappearing yonder.
Time to leave, but the horse was not there had been bored by seagrass
began walking home, I ran to fetch her, where she stood confused by
a crossroad, I rode her back to the strand feeling like a king of the world
Going back to the farm, the farmer fell asleep on top of the load
When arriving, the farmer’s wife was angry, I unharnessed the horse that
quickly ran to the field where it neighed and snorted, jumping before
settling down, I think she had seen the stallions too.