Horse Loss Poems | Examples
These Horse Loss poems are examples of Loss poems about Horse. These are the best examples of Loss Horse poems written by international poets.
She runs like a horse, galloping in the night
She runs from relationships, quickly out of sight
She decides in her mind and away she goes
Running from what feels like a depth of throes
She runs before the loud gavel falls
that will bring her deep pain, breaking her walls
She runs to save herself and not burden another
She runs from actions with potential to smother
She knows it will still hurt, losing what has grown
A flowering companionship, loving affection shown
A runner, a fix, thinking she's protected by her armor
Someday she will learn, he was more than a charmer
Heidi Sands
5/1/25
(C)opyright
Placed 3rd
Your bare bottom pounds as you glide
across the cloven countryside,
tresses lifting, buoyant breasts,
your stallion savages his breaths.
Pressing knees, you turn him wide,
Pull up below the rivers bridge.
You let him drink low and long
You sing to him a wild song
You lie on moss to bid him see
your treasure space once meant for me.
Withers shining, smoothed by sweat
perfumed where your bodies met,
he throws his head then steps away.
You think of something cruel to say
though not of him, your muscled pet
but of me, below the rivers bridge.
You step to him as if on air
You touch him with a lover’s care
You climb again, pull tight the reins
Then release your grip to run again.
bring it on
what else have you got
you’re in the mood for beating a dead horse
and won’t give up until you break me
well get it over with
it will take more than
what you’ve thrown at me
so get it on and
give me all you’ve got
how many times have you rained on my parade
you’ve hailed, dumped your snow and sleet
and even aimed at me your thunderbolts
I may be soaked and drenched
darn right I’m miserable
but you’ve not won over me
you’ll never get the best of me
bring it on
get it over with
what else have you got
Read on air by invitation ~ March 7, 2021 'LATE NIGHT POETS'
AP: 3rd place 2022
Submitted on March 7, 2021 for contest LIFE'S STRUGGLES sponsored by CONSTANCE LA FRANCE - RANKED 1ST
Brave condor, you are a winged wonder
O, breathtaking bird --- PLOP! ---
I need to shampoo my hair and ponder
Noble steed, racing like the wind o'er yonder
O, swift stallion --- NOT THAT WAY, CRAZY HORSE! ---
I must be ever on guard for thoroughbred blunders
Graceful swan, gliding downstream, you wander
O, crown of aquatic creation --- STOP THAT HONKNG! ---
I need intermingle this creature with the duck, the goose and the gander...
How Romantic was I, but so confused
~ Of youthful notions, now disabused
The rocky desert was searing red,
And the sky was lapis lazuli
When thundering hooves and swirling dust
Brought grimy, grim men fast riding by.
Their looks and their mien were vulturine
With dark eyes that were as hard as stone.
‘Twas easy to see it was risky
To be riding this bleak land alone.
I held my peace and stayed in my cave
Hidden beneath the Mogollon Rim.
Three months and a day, I hid away
Until my trail was colder than snow.
I saddled my horse and lit a shuck,
Riding by night for old Santa Fe.
No man of the gun, I hated to run.
What else could I do with no alibi?
I rode the horse that carried the gold
Of the late robbers who shot my son.
BATTLE OF THE WEIGHT LOSS DRAMA
Here's the halfway mark,
of the weight loss embark,
and if you're like most who at least get started.
Somewhere during the course,
you fell off the horse,
and now you're feeling dishearted..
But remember all’s not loss,
you’re still the boss,
so never, toss, the babe out with the bathwater,
The Yo-yo's are apart of it,
you knew it at the start of it,
when taking on the weightloss charter.
So if you've gained most of it back,
at least you don’t lack,
the wisdom of one determined mama,
Put your dukes up again,
if you keep fighting you'll win,
the battle of the weight loss drama!
Disjointed beings beg the questions – still
an ashen horse delivers what is owed.
Decisions kneel before compassion’s will,
to stop and help a turtle cross the road.
To comfort one another, brings them home,
confides the mornings, bedtimes now alone.
Concentric dreams preserve the lost to roam
among the ash and fields of sculptured stone.
From every foolish quest, those wasted years,
of mercy - time denies the rich and poor.
Whatever left, upon regrets and tears,
behind the coffins, curtains of velour.
Receive his blood the only way across,
eternal rock we trust in Savior’s Cross.
-----------------------------------------------------
Contest: Death
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Written: 10.20.17
Form: English Sonnet
Into the night
The pen or the knife
Wine or cheesy reality
Dancing with the devil
Delectable choices
Divine voices
Inside my head
Sadness mounts her horse
Decisions and predilections
The pen or the knife?
Do I even have a choice?
War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s the price o’ life.
Famine comes upon black horse
fillin the gullet o’ Deaythe’s strife.
War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s the price o’ life
Power swings War’s blood red swuird
the weak an’ the old suffice.
War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s the price o’ life.
Conquest raises mighty bow
crownin’ Kings with rare delight.
War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s just the price o’ life
on pale horse the banshee rides
binna matter what your fief.
In deayth we fertilize the field
Life is aw an’ Deaythe's real.
*In the style of Robert Burns
Time running, flowing
away
where are the treasures
of yesterday
so many things gone, vanished
obsolete
the horse and buggy
the rumble seat
but more than that
as time goes by
the young don’t even seem to try
to embrace the things that we hold dear
like morals and values
it’s all to clear
the things we embraced in our youth
time took it’s toll
and no longer plays a roll
but with help and patience
kind and true
we might just see this generation
through.
Luck Rides a Stick Horse
By Tom Wright
If good luck is what you're counting on
A stick horse will always be your steed.
Choose God and a job to rely on instead
Not Casino's or lottery to fill your need.
You can tell yourself that someone
Always wins and it just might be you.
But gamblers play the suckers game
Though your thinking might be true.
People feed quarters into slot machines
And at the tables they tirelessly play.
But most go home with pockets empty
Thinking tomorrow might be the day.
But just as sure as payday comes
They're Casino bound and in high gear.
Not seeing themselves for what they are
Dumb sheep, waiting for a shear.