Long Stallion Poems
Long Stallion Poems. Below are the most popular long Stallion by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stallion poems by poem length and keyword.
A handsome ebony stallion, Frederick the Great,
honors the Prussian monarch of the same name.
He never has trouble finding a mare for a date,
this Friesian stud of notable celebrity and acclaim.
He turns many curious heads wherever he goes
Curly mane and tail flowing when he is running
but Frederick gladly stops to strike a noble pose.
He's magnificently beautiful, perfectly stunning!
Trained in Dressage, but he loves to run free
Frederick is worthy of all the honors I bestow.
He even had his name in lights on a Marquee
when he made an appearance on the Late Show
He's a gentle giant who loves to give kisses
At the age of twenty, he takes center stage
Frederick loves the ladies, but has no misses,
but might find a sweetie on his face book page.
October 12, 2021
A Notable Horse Contest
Sponsor: Robert James Liguori
I strode in, nose in the air, lofty and proud,
Through the grand doors of the horses arena.
Standing beside the rusted rail, assessing the parade
For the eyes of a hardened ballerina.
The show pony on the track, the performer of fast,
The chase from the back, or lead from the front.
Then I saw deep, deep into the stallion, he said he would win,
So on him I placed my first punt.
Last! ! Well that horse was a liar, so young and so green,
His eyes told a dream that he had.
The next parade was now on, the filly’s eyes shone to me,
She was an athletic sprinting Olympiad.
With hands full of urgent, I hastily fired the money from my pocket,
All on horse named Jitterbug.
She came in only seven lengths from the front, yep I know,
I’m the hopeless tragic horse racing mug.
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
I bought a fine-bred stallion for a thousand dinars
And navigate the wadi by the light of the stars,
Oasis to oasis as the desert bird flies,
Enchanted by the beauty of your Bedouin eyes.
Though bandits and siroccos seek to test my resolve,
I’ll brave them all regardless of the risks they involve.
I’ve sworn an oath to face whatever dangers arise
And overcome them all to see your Bedouin eyes.
Last night I scaled the ramparts of the sultan’s abode
Where you were wearing nothing but a long flowing robe.
The folds of my kaffiya kept my face in disguise,
But she could see right through me with your Bedouin eyes.
Author Dana Redricks
April 14, 2017
When Jesus first came, he came riding on a donkey
Crowds of people standing, cheering him all around
Before they were done
they were condemning him to death
But when he died he didn’t remain there
He rose from the dead and defeated death and sin
Now his children have been loosed from sin
Living in Christ in true victory
When Jesus coming for his church
he will be riding on a stallion
Coming to take all his children home
He’ll be riding on a stallion
He’ll be riding on a stallion
When he comes again he’ll be riding on a stallion
Coming to gather the church and to take them home
With all his angels gathered all around
Oh, what glorious day that will be
when Jesus comes again
he’ll be riding on his stallion instead of a mule
The firewood of this world is too heavy to bear
The worries of this world an everyday nightmare
Like a spear it breaks through my sorrowful heart
As I sit staring at the stars
All through the night
The trees around the compound dancing the dirge of its lonliness
The goats all lying in weakness
The square we gathered now triumphed by grasses
As the mutts take harbour in your houses
The colar bone is broken
The legs have no where to hacken
The famine in my heart so dry like the desert
Even spit in tongue now dessert
Broken men now speak
All because the mighty lies weak
What a load the Carmel cannot carry
Lyes as a bride for me to marry
O my eyes so blind even with lights to see
The bright lights now blind with jealousy
The left over now become companions
As friends now form an enemy battalion
As I lye waiting for death on a stallion
While on its wings she celebrates me a broken champion
A white horse stomping dream rides
thundering hooves jump off ridges
beyond mountains to distant realms,
euphoria ripples in speed of lightning.
its coat gleaming like a crystal palace.
roaming free of saddles, prairies yonder.
big eyes in wonder, unfettered reins
accelerating spirits of broken chains.
Yet in it's furious speed and strength
stillness of torrents, a Titan is tamed.
In caress of a hand, fondling of a neck
a canter is waned, a bareback bridled .
A shore straddles ecstatic ocean waves
in lullaby notes , folk music soothed.
A majestic beauty in quiet green pastures,
white stallion gallops, blue horizon erased.
28th March 2020
Sponsor Michelle Faulkner
Contest Name Some Paradise Where Horses Go
We all have inner and outer lives.
They’re messy, hopelessly intertwined, and more
than mere mannequins to hang our word-art upon.
I’m supported, in my unwritten life, by a structure
of moods, both affine and counter-expressive. I’m,
in turns, a tightly wound vagabond, an over-busy,
fretful, unhappy liar (for what I will not share) and
a happy, truthful mess (for what I may overshare).
My outer-life is largely academic, and turned with
complete absorption to task, I plow thru the
needed assignments, like a caffeine fueled machine,
You might rightly call outer-me boring. I get it, for
nothing much happens beyond study and life’s
usual maintenances.
But my inner-life is full of action, if desires,
dreams, and internally ranting against the injustices
of youthful separations can be rightly called actions.
Of my boyfriend, the world contains not one parallel.
He overshadows the few others I’ve ever known.
His masculine elements turn me all the way up,
He knows my petty vanities and most of my weaknesses.
If he doesn’t know my every phase of feeling, or every desire
of my love starved soul, it’s because our love is peripatetic.
Most of the year, we’re a long distance, digital, practical nothingness, A near autofictional anticipation. We are separated by a sea and more. If I may simply put it, I have a fine young body that is going to waste.
When I complained to my older sister, a surgeon who long delayed her own personal life for her career, she shruggingly and unsympathetically said,
“You only have to suffer a few more years.”
“Oh, mon Dieu!” I replied.
.
.
Alabama Song by Ralph Schuckett & Richard Butler
positions by Ariana Grande [E]
34+35 (Remix) by [feat. Doja Cat & Megan Thee Stallion] [E]
.
into
that trough
horse
she goez
and keep
i'll
thuh stallion
daddio
tap
Pamplona - full fight - 'El Toro Bravo'
Who's got more balls the matador or the bull
Nature or nurture the survival is skewed
The stage is set culture maintained and the
Fiesta bound to unravel in wild screams and suspense
Paloma however sports a pacifist's creed
Prefers a siesta with Paco's gentle sword
Sheathed in passion smooth motions of Peace
Bow to freedom and compassionate love
Pony and stallion dance al fresco in white sheets
When the night settles and they glow in the dusk
The arena nearby is empty bar blood in the sand
But Paloma and Paco rest unblemished after the
wondrous rapture and a clear conscience in kind