Long Palomino Poems
Long Palomino Poems. Below are the most popular long Palomino by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Palomino poems by poem length and keyword.
One day, if I could open my eyes
and watch you walkthrough
the sweet blue rain, and
wash those tears away.
If I could open my eyes, and
watch you wear
the same cotton blue jeans
with that cute white blouse, and
tell those clouds to splash
sweet blue rain, into your heart
The fresh scent
of sweet blue rain
bring April showers, and
flowers sell in the marketplace.
Well, a funny thing happened this Sunday,
on our walk-through of Palomino Park.
I noticed some things that you do
with your sweet blue smile.
Loving you may take some time.
Let’s take a walk again
and fill an empty heart,
with sweet blue rain.
I have no medical knowledge, but I can fix up a horse
I can shoe them and herd them and cowboy them said mouse.
What kind of horse sense is this? Asked ancient cow named Roy.
You haven’t had any schooling, and you ain’t no cowboy.
I’ve been watching them for years, the mouse said, not intimidated.
Degrees do not matter nor the fact that I have not graduated.
This barn has been my university, my acumen is sharp and keen.
Give me a wild stallion or a palomino, and I will show you a new scene.
Barnyard animals were askance and a’scared of this confident mouse.
He was braggadocio like the wind, terrifying ants, beetles and louse.
The horses believed him because he had absolute belief in himself.
By the time he was finished there were sixty trophies up on their shelf.
(ALLITERATION)
Cows milked: mitigated mooing in the meadows then
Weaving on the warp, some workaholic women
Harvest of hapless halibuts on hooks
Bookish book-worms buried in books
A palomino and a pony patter on the paving
Hucksters and hawkers hawking every housing.
Ravers out on the razzle raising a raucous razz-ma-tazz
Beavers busy building beaver-dams but about it quite blasé.
Doves cooing in divine chorus
Frogs frisking out of focus
Horoscopes are hocus pocus.
Tidal waves of tsunami treacherously tread
Sea-anemones scattered upon the sea-bed.
Geraniums genuflecting in jungle-like gardens
Hunters wary of wandering wild-life wardens.
All this when I ventured about videotaping
Nature's much nicer even with no landscaping
These are direly different scenes from different parts of the globe
Perhaps like a space probe's kaleidoscopic poetic probe
( this poem has every letter of the alphabet except x)
FROSTY
By
Kevin L Fairbrother
A Stock Horse… High Country Bred
Dark Palomino with white patches on his body and head
A solid well-muscled body and sturdy big boned legs
With strong shoulders and a massive muscled rear end
…
Sure footed FROSTY would go anywhere
A gallop on the marshes through creeks and river beds
Up and down steep and rocky hills, through thick bush and scrub
Nothing would impede his progress, he never gave up
…
He would carry heavy loads of Kangaroo and Deer
A friend to so many on the regular weekend hunt
Not fazed, never flinch when the guns went off
Work all day in the bush from dawn to dusk
…
Working with the dogs to gather sheep from the hills and plains
His rider sitting comfortable and on a loose rein
Picking his way around the fallen timber and rocky scree
Nothing would stop him no need of spur or whip
Stock horse competitions he would excel and prove his worth
Trail riding he was hard to beat in manners and stamina
DUSTY was loved by all who had the chance to meet him
His reputation admired and known by country and city people alike
…
But on a cold windy winters, morning, FROSTY was startled
Rising from the rough and ragged ground where he lay
His leg got caught, snapped his shoulder, struggling to get up
A sad time next morning when he was found, there was no hope
…
FROSTY was put down
Buried on the wind swept plains where he was born
And close to another legend of the High Country
His Mom
…
Such a legend FROSTY was gone before his time
But he will be remembered for his nature and strength
For on the high country his memory lives amongst so many
And round the camp fires FROSTY story will be told
Penned on the 23/01/15
(A COLLABORATION WITH ROBERT LIGUORI )
When the sun goes down on this hillbilly town
I will meet you there where the stars never frown
Down in the valley where the trees breathe easy
you and I will walk the sea slow, then easy-peasy
and as your arm encircles me I will whisper poetry
Roses in full bloom in a magical night of romance
we together as one two tender petals hand in hand
rolling towards the wispy winds like a lovers dance ;
Then with precision we will write in the sultry sand
the truthful words of our destined, happenchance
When the whispering is through, I'll belong to you
As the paint on a palomino foal is golden new
Our love together will glisten true
And then, getting in my rinky-dink truck
We'll ride back to town, while the sun comes up.
September 18, 2021
Thankyou Robert for joining me in this beautiful writing venture.
He grew one of them bushy mustaches
like Sam Elliot wears under his nose
Bought him some fancy duds from Cabela's
sure looked spiffy in his Buckaroo clothes
Alligator skin boots and silver spurs
thought he looked like all them real cowboys did
Added chaps and ten gallon Stetson hat
and called himself the Kansas City Kid
He'd got him a Palomino horse that
he didn't have a darn clue how to ride
And a beat up old red Ford pickup truck
with a blue eyed dog to be by his side
He packed up and headed to Montana
from his home in the woods of Missouri
Said he was fixin’ to be a cowboy
and the best anyone would ever see
He rattled that old truck to Montana
it conked out right there in front of the ranch
He said he wanted to learn to cowboy
if the boss seen fit to give him a chance
Well the boss brought him out to the bunkhouse
told all us cowboys that his name was Tim
Said he wants to be a cowboy you see
so show him the ropes and take care of him
I asked him what he knew about branding
could he stick an iron to a cow's rump
He said he would probably be alright
if I'd be kind enough to show him once
Well can you at least ride that horse of yours
to cut out a heifer or throw your rope
That boy looked at me straight into my eyes
gave me a slight grin then shook his head "nope"
Think you might be able to break a bronc
that has spent its whole life out running wild
“Well I was in a real mean sheep bustin’
back in Missouri when I was a child”
What about fixin’ up supper vittles
I might be able to use me a cook
"Pretty sure I can do a decent meal
as long as I have some kinda cookbook"
Well I got me these here bulls need cutting
and a short stretch of fence that you could mend
Can't be that hard to cut a bull he says
if you would just show me how to begin
That was twenty years ago boss hired Tim
cause there was something in him he could see
Tim spent all that time learning to cowboy
and became the best there would ever be
By Mystic Rose and Robert James Liguori
When the sun goes down on this hillbilly town
I will meet you there where the stars never frown
Down in the valley where the trees breathe easy
you and I will walk the sea slow, then easy-peasy
and as your arm encircles me I will whisper poetry
Roses in full bloom in a magical night of romance
we together as one two tender petals hand in hand
rolling towards the wispy winds like a lovers dance
Then with precision we will write in the sultry sand
the truthful words of our destined, happenchance
When the whispering is through, I'll belong to you
as the paint on a palomino foal is golden new
our love together will glisten true
And then, getting in my rinky-dink truck
we'll ride back to town, while the sun comes up
18-September-2021
"O-ka-hey!", the Sioux warrior's cry,
"Today is a good day to die!"
Tribal drums beat along banks of the river,
White mists drift upon the turquoise-blue,
They take their aim with bow and quiver,
Ready to fight for a purpose, free and true.
"O-ka-hey!", the Sioux warrior's cry,
"Today is a good day to die!"
Into the heart of battle they will ride,
Mounted upon a fearless palomino horse,
Lead by their ancient spirit guide,
He courageously braves his course.
"O-ka-hey!", the Sioux warrior's cry,
"Today is a good day to die!"
Blood-stained fields of dry autumn maize,
Was predicted by spirit guides to happen soon,
A golden sun rises in the morning haze,
And sets on darker days of many moon.
"O-ka-hey!", the Sioux warrior's cry,
"Today is a good day to die!"
Written for Shanity Rain's contest - "Native American People"
Note: "maize" is a Native-American word which means "corn".
"O-ka-hey" was a battle cry from the Sioux Indians,
it meant "today is a good day to die"
I am not sure of the spelling of this phrase.
If anyone knows the correct spelling, I would greatly appreciate the help.
Down in Sonoma, down on my luck
Needing a horse, down to my last buck
Man said 'That Pallo he's the devil to ride
You can have him for the shotgun by your side'.
'Throw in the saddle,' I said, 'You got a deal'
I was raised a rebel, I know how he feels
The horse studied me, I understood him,
We knew things could never be the same.
I rode him across the plains, I rode him through snows and rains
I rode him like a bullet train and he never never once complained.
I rode him through rough terrains, I rode him down ragged lanes
White tail, white flowing mane, you will never see his like again.
The years rolled by for Pallo and me
Worked open ranges but loved breaking free
Mount Baker gold rush at the Lone Jack mine
We were cold and hungry and close to dying.
Then among the stones glory to behold
Good God Almighty, I panned me some gold
Sold my stake to some desperate men
Then rode with my money like the wind.
I rode him across the plains, I rode him through snows and rains
I rode him like a bullet train and he never never once complained.
I rode him through rough terrains, I rode him down ragged lanes
White tail white flowing mane, you will never see his like again.
Then came the deathly whistling sound
A sniper's bullets dropped us to the ground
Laid there with his head across my knee
I swear that he was smiling back at me.
All those good times running through his mind
I knew he'd be willing, he knew I'd be kind
Four more bullets and our lives were gone
We rose again under a different sun
I ride him across the plains, I ride him through snows and rains
I ride him like a bullet train and he never never once complains.
I ride him through rough terrains, I ride him down ragged lanes
Grey ghosts on some spectral plane, as I ride my sacred horse again.
SEE/HEAR ME SING THIS ON YOUTUBE. LOUIS SPENCE & GRAHAM BROTTON PALAMINO. Thank you.
The rising sun greets the undulating plains of Elbert County,
Painting the sky in splendid hues, revealing God's rich bounty!
The eternal star exposes the grandeur of Pikes Peak to the west.
A brilliant moon sinks behind the mount, ending its nocturnal quest!
A herd of antelope gambol and graze on a nearby knoll.
A graceful palomino mare trots 'long side her frisky foal.
Herds of sleek Angus cattle are scattered about the plain.
A majestic golden eagle soars above, surveying its vast domain!
A coyote lopes across the road on its morning hunt.
A fleet falcon swoops toward its prey in an aerobatic stunt!
A magnificent herd of elk peer at me from a nearby glade,
And yonder a beautiful vixen and her kits take their promenade!
Canadian geese alight in a shimmering pond just across the way.
Wild turkeys strut in a secluded copse, showy feathers on display!
Ravens preen, greeting the morn perched in a grove of aspen trees.
The gossamer mists on the lea will ere be swept away by the breeze.
That pleasant drive each morn affords time for profound introspection.
The ever-changing panorama exemplifies the Creator's pure perfection!
Ah! The splendor of God's munificent and glorious creation,
Will to me forever be of daily and uplifting inspiration!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
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