Long Stallion Poems
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In the realm of my heart, there resides Karen Cook,
A love that enchants, like a well-written book.
Her grace is a melody, a dance of pure bliss,
Her smile like the sun, warming every abyss.
A love story painted with hues of devotion,
Karen's presence alone sparks an endless emotion.
Within her, a spirit of strength and gentle grace,
A soul that embraces love's every embrace.
With her, I've galloped through life, hand in hand,
Our hearts entwined like a rider and a horse in the sand.
Together we've weathered storms, braved the unknown,
Karen, my compass, my rock, my own.
Her eyes, like diamonds, reflect a love so true,
A bond unbreakable, forever we'll pursue.
Through meadows and valleys, we've traversed with ease,
Karen, my muse, the wind beneath my dreams.
And when life's trials mount, like hurdles in our way,
She becomes my stallion, guiding us each day.
Through hurdles and fences, we leap side by side,
Karen, my love, with you I'll always ride.
So here's to Karen, my love and my muse,
The one who brings light when life's shadows confuse.
With you, my dear, I've found a love untamed,
A love like a horse, forever unchained.
Oh, noble beast, you stand before me muscles quivering in fright
wanting nothing more than to flee. Unable to break or jump the
bars, you blow steam from flaring nostrils and paw the ground.
Once you ran free as the wind racing with it through canyons and
climbing high up the steep slopes you rear in pure joy at the top.
Little do you know you have captured a heart, the heart of a man
who desires to own you. That soon he will trap you and enslave you.
Soon you will be ripped from your herd forced to leave your mares
and foals unprotected. No longer free to roam the wild ranges.
Run down until your flanks heaved with exhaustion and the sweat
soaked your skin. Lassoed and dragged to this corral. Now you swing
your hip in warning for none to approach you. The man sits himself
down and quietly waits until curiosity finally wins and cautiously you
draw closer and snuffle his scent snorting as hastily you back away.
Several days pass now you take food from his hand and allow his touch.
Yet still you gaze far off to the valleys and I can see your longing to
be there free again. I take your side against my man pleading with him
that it would be wrong to enslave this fiery spirit of yours. His place is
not here see how he pines for freedom and his herd. Reluctantly her
man agreed and swung wide open the corral gate startled the horse
stared out then bucking he flew out to freedom yet shortly he returned
and put his head on the man's neck as if to say thanks.
He returned to his herd and fought off an intruder who had moved in.
Now you might think this the end of the tale but oh no it is not.
That winter was very harsh new foals found it hard to cope and often
perished. The stallion remembered the man and drove his favourite mare
to his place placing her in his care only just in time as she foaled that
night in the worst blizzard in living memory. The stallion returned to the rest
of his herd and brought them too down near the homestead and so a lasting
friendship was formed with both enjoying their freedom and yet also sharing
with each other.
A rainbow stallion
hailed, as if a cab.
I laid a hundred bucks
under his leather saddle.
I stepped into the stirrups,
then whipped onto
his primeval back.
I’d been expecting him.
An adventure I’d been told…
I knew nothing of how to ride
and knew only to pay his price.
He spoke! Yes, he spoke!
“Kick my sides, not too light,
not too hard.”
Surprised, I followed his instructions.
Away we flew. To where, only he knew.
The stubborn mule wouldn’t tell me.
We flew fast, we rode hard
until we reached the fairies and unicorns.
The fairies had little swords
embellished with ancient words.
The unicorns were fighting with their horns,
the sound of thunder, strikes of lightning.
“So, why are we here?”
The stallion says, pointing sternly at me,
“You need to stop this war!”
“What?” I say, “Why me?
“Isn’t it obvious?” the stallion frowns,
“You wouldn’t eat your daughter’s pixie dust cake,
you wouldn’t play hide’n seek unicorn and flatly
said you didn’t believe in fairytales.”
“Do you believe in rainbow stallions? the horse mocked.
“Okay…okay, but
how do I stop this war?”
“Alright, we’re getting somewhere,” the stallion snorted.
“Go to the old owl’s tree. Open it up. There’s a clock.
You must turn it back to yesterday.”
“Where is it?”
“Must I do everything for you? You have until midnight to figure it out.”
“What happens if I can’t return to yesterday?”
“An unhappily ever after.
Now get going! Today is burning daylight!”
I awake from my dream, hoping this is yesterday…
My daughter spins into the room,
“Daddy, I rode on a horsie’s back.
He was so pretty. He told me you would help me
find pixie dust and unicorns. Will ya…will ya, Daddy?”
“Hold on, sweetheart…”
I run outside in bare feet.
I hear an owl. I see his tree.
Before I wouldn’t have believed nor seen
the clock. I wind it back.
Let the party begin. I’ve taken stock.
Ten years later she reminds me
of the sweetest day,
time spent wisely. The owl daily says,
“Who…who’s the guy!” with a wink,
dream and a little sleep.
8/24/2022
I went to the vet today,
Most eager to hear what he’d say,
‘Threw me out on my ear,
With words most sincere,
“That horse is too fat, no more hay”.
I pondered his words for a while,
Not sure I could do this in style,
Made the horse a nice steak
With plain potato baked,
He finished his meal with a smile.
So I talked to my vet once again,
Said his words had been a god-send,
For my horse is quite svelte,
He can buckle his belt,
And that stallion and I are best friends.
Now the horse comes for dinner each night,
Pulls up to the table just right,
We light a cigar,
Have a drink from the bar
And toast to the vet with delight.
Inspired by Robert L. Hinshaw
A Master Limerickman
11/8/2018
Stallion
Mighty, was his look,
rendering tall, as he provokes.
The attraction that he emanates drawing to its taming,
which we sought.
A stallion as he stands,
the silhouette is what we have seen.
It was that of a wild horse
waiting for his taming to prevail!
The stallion's tone took when the animal did near,
wanting to be the tamed horse, captured, he is safe.
A depth that can take,
when there's something to be profound in, it's deep!
Alas, we come to an end;
there comes a disruption in this snare.
It's what he felt from the enclosed corral,
though he hurls out from the gate, did he escape?
The stallion gave flare from his stance,
which the tamed horse,
a leading role of the animal, he did ride.
Revised Edition February 3. 2021, 4:45 AM (EST)
one hemisphere lit
of split
personality;
Jack O’Lantern rides,
spurring the midnight stallion.
Ichabod’s head spins ‘round,
fear comes forth furiously,
without time
to catch his breath.
a clean cut,
detached from reality.
eyes spinning
within Crane’s inner space;
a pumpkin smash.
was this his nemesis
or the devil himself?
was Katrina worth this,
his head laid upon
the woodpile’s lap?
a dream perhaps?
another Van Winkle written off?
furrows on forehead,
pulp pulsing, scored;
twenty years or so forth.
generations hear of the headless wanderer
only the lovelorn venture off
(and Brom Bones ascendants)
descending into dreams, delusions
or the stampede of midnight hoofs.
Katrina lit a candle in the window
She’ll never be a widow; just blind
As far as the eye can see, thunder roars with such fury in the horizon.
Beneath the sea sculpturing deep tints and shades of blue, briny crystallizing.
The tide draws away and breathes its curse.
Articulating its exaltation moving force,
manifesting and mesmerizing.
Bout gaits end with the striking off sound.
Airborne when all four are off the ground.
Breeze laced through his mane with pride.
Feeling the cold embrace, he draws a breath with every stride.
As the rain caress, fire burns inside, free its soul bound.
7/20/2016
Rhyme AABBA AABBA
Two Stanzas - Two Only - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Broken Wings
~ You’re the Mender of My Fences…
Time has a way of rusting out the wires
or rotting the posts off below the ground
and then the horses would go a strayin'
any place that the fence had fallen down
So you have to ride along the fences
specially after a big winter storm
Always being alert and diligent
to make sure the herd will come to no harm
Most times it might be just a little thing
like splicing in a tiny bit of wire
Other times it’s an entire section down
that’s when things can become a bit more dire
It seems you always know what tool to use
to keep our fences standing tall and strong
Just how to keep this wandering stallion
from doing anything foolish or wrong
You have a gentle way of fixing me
whenever doubt starts to rust out my wire
You are the mender of all my fences
the keeper of my heart’s deepest desire
Thoughts of you perforate my normality.
Insidiously creeping in and ‘squatting'in my heart.
You are a sitting tenant in my house of reason,
yet my heart cannot evict you, for you have become
the focus of my emotion - and I love you.
Thoughts of you occupy my fantasy:
constraints of responsibility lifted and living the dream.
No need to think of others or what ‘ought' to be,
just you and me laughing, living, loving.
or riding on a stallion wild and free.
In our normal life, the one of social expectation –
where there are rules to keep and duties to perform –
we spin in opposite wheels of existence, rarely touching:
moments often wasted, afraid of what to say.
Yet sometimes there are glimpses,a mutual acknowledgement;
a lingering look, a tentative touch, an innuendo,
toe dipping in the water of possibility;
testing the temperature in case one day
we dare to dive in and swim in the
illusionary sea of our reverie.
Yet, in reality or fantasy, one thing rings true;
one golden thread; one commonality;
whether in my dreams or in my waking: whether
riding on a stallion or performing the dressage of normality,
when I look into you eyes I know I love you,
……………and I feel you love me too.
Unwritten page
An unwritten page on a Word processor, I ought to leave it this way
look and dream of what I could have written on the page
If I delete words I have written, the page will be blank again
No history, a crumbled-up sheet of paper for the waste basket
For now, it is too late, but when coming to the end of the sheet
My wife was in Johannesburg for surgery. Born in Congo, she is
Light-skinned, but traveling on a Portuguese passport, she
Boarded a bus for the blacks, great consternation, the police
To go on the bus for the white people
Racism and ignorance, now it is the Muslims who feel the
Ignorance, we want them to be like us, not insist on doing
Their own things
Israel is a racist country, a thistle under the saddle of
And an Arab stallion, and can’t last the way it is ruled
The sheet is fouled by an opinion no one wants to hear
What now, erase the page and write about the moon