Long Stallions Poems
Long Stallions Poems. Below are the most popular long Stallions by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stallions poems by poem length and keyword.
~ My Faith ~
(Set deep in New England woods
of days long gone by)...
The forest held me in her spell
Enchanting visions 'round yon dell
Amidst the silence, peals of bells
'Twas then descried a carousel
Its stallions seemed to fly right by
They flared their nostrils, gave a cry
I shook with fear; I don't know why
Looked up to view a blackened sky...
All light snuffed out; the end seemed nigh
My heart's blood cold, prepared to die
I clung to Faith, yet asked God why
Then bowed my head for God's reply --
Dark spirits grabbed ahold of Faith
I could not see aught but her Wraith
From heaven I fell in drop to swell,
Upon the waves of Loch Fyne.
From rain to girl, sand born in pearl
thus formed was I divine.
When first formed, I was Unicorn
And no name had such as I
But then the moon, the belewe moon
appeared and Rain rose I.
From rain, to pearl to Unicorn
to maid of Rain who cried.
Who rose, once more, a woman
at edge of ocean’s tide.
Upon the strand two horses ran,
two stallions side by side
each whiter than the abalone
the shell where she’d reside.
No longer could she race with them
all across the ocean's side,
she’d lost her horn and been reborn
in frailer form she hied.
Now, forelorn she rides astride
like a nyph, or virgin bride,
until that ole betrayer moon
returns she'll be not satisfied.
Contest/ Rain, The Story
By Debbie Guzzi
* A Blue moon is an extra full moon in a year.
Often there are many years between one blue/blewe
"betrayer" moon and the next.
At the foot of the mountain lies a wide verdant plain
With rich flowing breasts tend its enchanting brethren
A cuddly care that nature does, in collaboration with men
Catered to those gallant souls, nurturing the best it can
Every morning, when sunshine unfolds its resounding grace
Charming horses in auspicious race, dock their tails, all in graze
Glorious creatures they are when viewed near and afar
Precious stone-like muzzles adorned, each shines like ritzy car
Glossy fur is prominent, from withers, poll to forelock crane
The sophisticated look they have while galloping in any range
When the sun grows brighter in the middle of the day
Cowboys with their hats and chaps shout, hurray!
They run to check their rides before they saddle with glee
Patting stifle, gaskin, hock down to fetlock ‘though they’re jerky
Thorough inspection of hoof, coronet and frog they do and peek
And see if shoes are fixed, they’re good luck charms, shown in kicks
Stallions or mares, palomino, topaz… horses in any color and kind
Riding like a roller-coaster on their withers to their croup is so fine!
How I wish I can go with those cowboys in their pony-trekking
I want to be their horsewoman as they’ll be all my prince charming.
Oct. 17, 2016 1.40pm
Copyright2016Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
Ninth Place
Contest: Horses
Judged: 10/30/2016
Sponsor: Poet Shadow Hamilton
A Frenchmen’s Hell Nothing More
David J Walker
No father
Please I pled
It was only a dream
Nothing more
About mesquit trees
Turning themselves into mustang ponies
Nothing more
Running wild and free on a drunkards horizon
A prairie’s floor
The fences strengthened
The three gates tightened
hanging
post to post to post
Nothing more
Now
About the horse’s corral
a few paces from the barn
You could see
It was only me
Painting curses in Spanish because I knew
The obscene verses Could be far worse
Because the Mustangs could read them
And laugh at my bad Spanish grammar
Still
They got the picture
Nothing more
to the story except
It’s why I stayed awake past midnight
And snapped the bullwhip ever so often
Cracking a warning into a southwest wind
Blowing warm its warning in naked numbness
Nothing more
Except, father
The mustangs might win the fight and send
The souls of our stallions into a Frenchmen’s Hell
falsely claiming the birthright of the foal
A bleak sight
In starlight
The dark night before
The next daylight slowly begins
Folding into a new beginning
Hiding the various meanings of freedom
demanding variant forms to consider
as if daybreak was the dawn
of another committee meeting
But father
In the dream, I become the thief in the night
Steeling a Mustang away from its herd
Calling it my own
He hates me and I know
he always will
He loves the way I ride like no other
as if in stride
With the wind and then
steal the will of the condemned
Sending us both to a Frenchmen’s hell
Just as well
Father
Just as well
Let me get r o m a n t i c, cross my legs,
pucker my lips, slip into your shadow.
You say, “It’s a bit hot in here,” as I draw near.
You're pulling at your collar, releasing your tie.
My scarf, silkily and seamlessly, slides
onto the parquet floor, next to your shoes,
kicked off. My s t i l e t o s join yours
on the ballroom floor. They’re ruby red.
We are not ready for bed, Mon amour.
For now, we are in this for kicks. High
riding our stallions through the m e a d o w.
Enjoying our tricks and treats together.
Our wet skin, pearlescent, in the moonlight,
swimming with p l e a s u r e in the dark.
We get closer and closer to the t r u t h
of who she is; who he is; we’re in the depths.
The mistletoe overhead reveals a mystery.
You’d think it is a k i s s, but it is a knee.
The d i a m o n d brilliance of cerise cheeks,
and a “yes, oh yes,” and yes, comes the kiss.
Let me get r o m a n t i c, in snow of negligee,
looser lips, and a slip b e t w e e n the sheets.
It’s never been h o t t e r as you draw near.
It’s time we know no bounds, my love.
About This Poem
It's In The Jeans
The young man stood at the bus stop waiting for the bus
Along came the sexiest looking young lady he ever saw
She had on tight, stretched blue denims that marked her curves
Her shape was as the Coca Cola bottle as the saying goes
“Hi princess, can I be of any assistance to get your jeans off
I can imagine it will be a challenge for you without some help”
Smiling and blushing the young lady pass her hands over her hips
Letting the young man imaginations run wild like wild stallions
The bus came and he let her go up ahead of him, like a gentleman
She went into the nearest seat, he sat beside her claiming his territory
“So, may I come home with you so we can discard this intrusion to your beauty?”
“Well, since you ask so nicely and you are such a gentleman, of course you may”
They got off at her stop and she led the way to her apartment’s door
His eyes never leaving her blue denim clad sexy voluptuous curves
What a treat I have tonight he thought, I will make her want me over and over
I will slowly peel off that tight blue jeans while kissing every inch of her
“Can I get you something to drink,” she ask. “Yes, may I have a cold beer please?”
He sips his beer, she her tonic wine, while they try to get more acquainted
With every word he says he draws closer, destroying the space between them
Finally he touches her, peeling the jeans away, the prize within his grasp
He is kissing her all over her face, lips and neck. Not looking from the face down
Suddenly he looked to where his hands were busy. Hello! He is thinking. Where
are all the curves?
What is this I am seeing? All the loose skin kept in by the tight blue sexy denim was
hanging
Things did fall apart, all pun intended, because the young man ran like the devil was
after him
I face a big dilemma,
Is active life better than retired?
In active life, social ties thrive,
Conversations flow, stirring hearts and minds,
In retired life, tranquility retreats,
Fewer interactions, cherished with ease.
Active sports push boundaries, energy like a fiery spell,
Retired sports are leisurely, golf swings, fishing trips,
Time slows down, stress finds its resting place,
Both paths offer joy and grace.
Thoughts gallop like wild stallions, ideas and dreams to find,
Active minds, ever seeking, intellect unleashed.
Thoughts perch like wise owls, memories dance in peace,
Retired minds, wisdom shared with humble grace.
Active and retired, balance in life.
Live the active present, welcome the retired furure.
In big sky country,
Joe Schmo wanders off
into the prairie at daybreak
with his rifle to hunt for
game birds. His dog fetching for
ones he shoots out of the sky.
In big sky country,
a homestead family is busy
at the ranch gathering hay
for their livestock;
the kids excitedly
play cowboys and indians.
In big sky country,
wild stallions sometimes can
be seen grazing the tufts of grass.
Farmhands often drive cattle
in the grandeur and majesty
of the western Badlands
In big sky country,
a rooster loudly welcomes
a new dawn; wolves often seize
the night howling at the moon acapella.
The refreshing breeze sway
the tarrying wildflowers at noontide
In big sky country,
lose yourself in wondrous oblivion!
You'll never see a more gorgeous
sunset. There's an embarrasment
of riches to discover there.
I'm in a Montana state of mind.
Date written: 04/07/2020
Smooched in candy apple she pouched her cinnamon lips
The fair had come into town with travellers and wagons
It was that time of the year when dreams would come true
Glittered in mellow fairy dust of innocence and imagination
Lucy was finally old enough to mount the carnival horse
The carrousel took her on a roller coaster ride to heaven
Golden locks mingled with the wild stallions quivering mane
A cow girl on paradise’s tracks to unbound passion and joy
‘More and once again please just for one time’
Ears full of musical aura of unfettered hooves clattered
Popped the drums as they galloped across the wild prairie
As she went dizzy with laughter and the charm of delight
She embraced the withers and bounced up in the saddle
Looked with swelling pride at the crest full of promise
Tiny legs barely reached the stirrups feathered in tussles
‘Better than chocolate sprinkles on coconut iced cream’
A match of tender caress and touch of rocking intuitive trust
Daddy smiled and vowed to never grow up
Redding Poem 1
"Oh Noisy Redding"
There at the Thunderbird Lodge in downtown Redding,
I heard the gods screaming from steel axles with rubber
Claws, scratching the timeless asphalt streets with mayhem.
I heard the sirens from the mysterious distances on Market Street,
As monster machines hovered above with roaring determinations,
And the rumblings of the trucks shook the building I slept within,
Like a raging stampede of stallions, coming through the canyons,
In search of prairie grasses and the sap of a million pine trees.
Oh noisy Redding,
You finally drift to sleep in the late hours,
But your Kansas-like silences seared my soul with your plaintive noises,
Something you could have whispered perhaps, but were not inclined to try.
Then in the wee times at vulgar five o’clock, they come asunder again!
The madness machines with roaring engines about to explode like maniacs
On hyper-drugs, make their appearances with screeching brakes,
And grinding steel nerves and hydraulic sinews made of entwined madness;
And time stops, as we wonder what monster has arisen from its grave.
Oh you, detestable ghoul from the grave, why must you scream?
There at the Thunderbird Lodge in downtown Redding,
Oh noisy restless Redding,
You belch loudly as you drink to the new day, and to the last.
Oh Noisy Redding, your maniac trains rumble and massacre the silence
As your old streets grumble like something wanting to get up and dance,
Shaking old hips, as with the tremors of the deep land, the sacred land.