My Grandmother said, when she was just three,
she’d seen the white horses ride in from the sea.
Now I stand at the lighthouse and see the white manes
stream behind horses that run without reins,
racing each wave and rushing for home –
to reach the gold sand where they melt into foam.
They tossed their manes as they made a stand
unencumbered by darkness or day
Years of their hooves etched into the land
worries left behind along their way
as Tribal Peoples honored their stay
Wilderness horses have always known
the freedom to run beneath the sun
feeding on wild grass Nature has sown
free to chase clouds or a wild dream spun
and spirit warriors witnessed each run
Then word came:“(so heavy on the brow)
let cattle graze, for dollars they bring
thus loaded on trucks, all are gone now
leaving echoes of freedom’s bold ring
now their song of the wild, wind will sing
Unearthly beauties, one and all
Angelic faces, each a doll
Physique amazing, walking straight
In runway's perfect balanced gait
They smile, in answer to your smile
Dressed sharp and simple, modern style
Somehow they know what is in fashion
Those shapely legs inflame passion
No girl be equal to compete
With wonder bodies, eyes and feet
The arching brows, ideal skin
Earth doesn't hold your next of kin
We'd love to meet them, hold their hands
And speak, about to be fans
To run our fingers through the manes
Except a dream it all remains
They are not real, don't live here
These beauties not what they appear
At least not yet, not on my watch
All I can do is wish and watch
As catwalk model or a singer
A dancer with the moves that linger
Recite the story, silky voice
Leave us astounded, to rejoice
Be you not fake, I'd be on fire
Ones' manly brain, it goes haywire
Oh, why, but why create temptations
When none of you are God's creations?
Illusions perfect, by A.I.
Hello, my beauties, and goodbye
One day you'll join humans' world
I wouldn't live that long, I'm told
December 28, 2025
Bronze in the dawn they move,the proud and free,
their manes ablaze with Africa's first fire.
Each pawstep falls with the weight of prophecy-
lords of the dust,born of hunger and desire.
-
They do not kill for sport or applause,
but by the eternal decree of their bones.
Their eyes-two suns that know no laws-
burn where wilderness guards its ancient thrones.
The veldt trembles ; silence kneels before their thread,
their breath perfumes the carcass and the bloom,
They are the memory of the unaccounted dead,
and the hymn of kingdoms without tomb.
Let man look at them and learn again
that power is not greed,and rule is pain.
Sly low tide sneaks up to smooch the smooth shore
that holds old footsteps left behind us
and lends itself to sand castles
standing guard until high tide
plovers dart on fleet feet
across sodden sands
spindle-legged girls
hunt conch shells—
starfish
found!
Blue
waters
glistening
aqua appeal—
white-horse sea magic
spindrift manes rise from crests
awakened from lowest ebb
high tide arrives on thunder hooves
body-surf Neptune’s steeds to the shore—
my wet hair dries to sun-bleached beachy waves…
Sure-footed on rugged hill
Likes life on mountain range
Rolling grassland fits the bill
Short horns reveal their age
Ovines in endangered stage
Males change from Brown, grey to black
Deft climbers blend with rock
Bristly manes, white saddleback
Female has agile walk
Dusky females never baulk
Feeds on various grass, leaves
Spots danger to snort, run
Predators - tigers, dholes, wolves
Humans poach, shoot for fun
Human deeds have their life done
Memory of Muriel
When the big wave crashed ashore
on the rocky side of the bay, seven white stallions, silky manes flying, galloped ashore to seek freedom in the green winter valley.
The old man's sons helped their father to swim
and he was glad
Coming home, he called his wife Muriel and told her he had been swimming with his son.
The sons were worried their mother had been dead for many years
In the valley of greenness, the stallions see
the grass turned pale
longed for the freedom of the open sea.
When a summer storm came, the stallions galloped back to the shore to join mighty swells
on the back of a horse, an old man rode
finally, he was going to meet his wife Muriel.
Sundial numerals illuminate
Knowing noon narrow shadow arrow strikes
Flicks ‘round corners of maze elaborate
Heraldic daffodil, dormant out psychs
Lion, amber assured stride resolute
Teams beside mine, admires canter cloud bounce
Trembled meshing manes make brushstrokes astute
Abstract turns apparent, rewound amounts
Labyrinth lane secures our fears slumbering
Canary chortle performs audacious
Honey wine celebrates when Summer brings
Walls torched in lofty laughing blazes
Flung flaxen, fertile wheat fields’ wispy waltz
Scorched xanthe seeds multiply dream results
24th July
Yellow Leo
They thundered across the fertile plains,
Those hardened hooves, those tangled manes,
But now the Buffalo can't be found.
They thundered across the fertile plains.
The long grass has vanished from the ground
Where cities and highways now abound.
They thundered across the fertile plains,
Those hardened hooves, those tangled manes.
Sunlight spills on sprightly steeds,
Spring's sweet song stirs sleeping seeds.
Spirited stallions, sleek and swift,
Sashaying through the springtime mist.
Silken shadows shift and sway,
In the serene, splendid break of day.
Three thoroughbreds rambunctiously thrive,
Their thunderous thumps come alive.
Pastures painted in subtle shades of green,
Outstretched playground, pure and pristine.
Playful prancing, powerful paces,
Pleasure painted on their faces.
Celebrating, chasing, carefree,
Cascading manes, wild and free.
In the cozy, comforting light,
Spring's splendor shines so bright.
Frolicking freely, feeling fine,
For this trine, dazzling day so divine.
Eternal energy, ever so spry,
Beneath the vast, vibrant sky.
Conejo Conejito Tango (Bunny Rabbit Tango)
The mesmerizing twilight dims
across a lake a warm breeze skims
Buck, the handsome rabbit drinks,
he has no doe; his love life stinks.
He stares at his reflection, sighs
when suddenly, his long ears rise
he hears a low, soft rustle near
he stands straight up, tries not to leer
but in the gloaming, gold and green
a gorgeous hare, a beauty queen!
With one ear up, the other folds
her peek-a-boo is flirty, bold.
She holds his gaze and lifts her chin,
he charges forward, she leaps to spin
and drops back down, in perfect pose
she lifts her paws to box his nose.
The tango music fills their veins,
the wind blows out their bunny manes
they pivot, leap and promenade
in moon-streaked shadow, cooling shade.
The forward cross, the ocho, turn
there is no step they need to learn
the side secada, quick advance
they both were born to dance this dance.
The dance complete, he falls asleep
she hops away, his snores are deep
She looks back in fondness, glad
she chose this buck to be a dad.
The wind carries on, seeking a peaceful place, to muss hair and raise Cain.
With no friends to meet, it invites the flowers, to scent the summer breeze.
The birds draft its thermals, to far-away places, where sunset calms the wind.
To rest and dream of flight, where the lavender haunts, the windless way.
Then to resume the search, for wild horses' manes, and the whispering pines!
hooves pounding the snow
manes flying in Winter's wind ~
mustangs on the hills
Above the choppy,
viewed from
behind the glassy
winded and floppy.
He observes the flossy
dark black rolling
white and frothy.
Salt filtered manes blown
acrossy limpits rocky
trapping olde anchors rusty
amongst filleted fishy
manes plastered down
quarter-horses
put through their paces
lightning-like, whips crack the air
puddles mirror rainbows
sunshine peeks from clouds
hands folded around cash
spectators pray to gods unknown
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.