A cascade, shimmering, of rivulets that undulate,
Metaphor thalassic, richly blending at the pate.
Each silhouette of vitality, speaking with gentle weight,
On shoulders resting, an adornment, delicate.
Where inky depths meet sun-kissed golden thread,
Fair skin and russet lips, a harmony well-bred.
On sloping lids, where emerald hues are spread,
Completing thus, a visage subtly, richly said.
Every filament, a void of deepest night,
Pupils widen, mirroring its stark, endless plight.
Heartstrings tugged by fur of shadowed fall,
Where a blue throb pulses, binding all.
"A horse is poetry in motion."
Quote - Unknown
My horse must think me very odd,
for he turns to me with a nod;
as flakes fall silent on his mane,
I love him standing there so proud.
We stroll a white frozen terrain,
falling snow making branches strain;
my hair black as black my lips red,
my horse prances down the lane.
Sleek soft grey, alert and well-bred,
he follows with his mane outspread;
a snort, a neigh, soft eyes of gold,
sparkling snow falling as we tread.
The winter woods silent and cold,
with scenes exquisite to unfold;
serene the delicate snowflakes,
as wind whispers of things untold.
I sit beside myself and think,
And try to evaluate my life;
Yes, my life that is blotted with ink
My life of which evaluation would cause strife.
A strife between the living and the dead,
Between our world and theirs too;
Between the ignoramus and the intellectually well-bred.
A conflict none can describe as new!
I sin and sin again and then realize;
And beyond any doubt, more than twice repent,
Only to go back and iterate the vice,
And thus to my record add a fresh dent.
Lord, I have but a very curious mind,
Some would refer to me as a wandering soul
In the land of wisdom, knowledge and the kind,
But their mysteries and their sins, I am attracted to them all!
Now spare any mercy that you might find
And forgive the sins of my kindly person,
I have not committed the ones that cross the line;
A few lies here and there, but not the dreaded arson.
Now, I sit beside myself and think
And ponder over a future without blemish;
A time when no deed will morally stink,
Where all transgressions will have vanished.
Make my day! Clint McRoostwood said.
His attitude was as staunch as his comb was red.
Many scooted away from him with dread.
His movie star status was totally well fed.
He pretended that he was superior, and well-bred.
Along a conduit we are led
Finer than a gossamer thread
Designated nodes meet and greet
Divine magnetism, so well-bred
Bliss mists fill us from head to feet
No wonder then, our heart’s upbeat
This benign burn transforms our soul
Manifest within as cool heat
Feeling complete, blissful and whole
Thoughts rest; we presuppose no goal
Our toroidal heart is aflame
We reclaim soul’s light, ego stole
Recognising life’s but a game
We disrobe without feeling shame
We see soul as ocean of light
Fulfilling then thus our life’s aim
03-June-2023
He fancies himself Mark Twain the chicken slayer said.
His hat is ridiculous, I would not wear it even if I was dead.
Tom Sawyer or Huck Finn? You mean asked a reader well bred.
Not sure said the chicken slayer, but look at that stupid hat on his head!
To chase away despair,
we love and we desire
for a joyous affair;
to love is being higher.
And lest our heart's well-fed,
it will take another:
a lover who's well-bred,
and not any other.
Love goes on forever;
it never ends or dies,
or ceases, if ever,
and bars its own demise.
So, if love's unending,
then our joy's transcending.
I live in a forest treehouse the tiny man said.
Speckled duck called him a liar, his face turned all red.
I think he is telling the truth said an eater of bread.
freshly baked dough coming out of his mouth was hot as lead.
I want to see your place yelled old Grandpa Fred.
I do too agreed his twin brother, old Ned.
Follow me down this hidden path the tiny man said.
Speckled duck rapidly apologized; his name is young Ted.
You have to think before you speak reminded his dad Ed.
the tiny man accepted duck’s apology; because he is well-bred.
We all complimented the tiny man on his pretty homestead.
Everyone agreed it was a glorious spot including Grandpa Fred.
Goddess Athena is the guardian of Athens, the soothsayer said.
She is high-born in mythology, and exceedingly well-bred.
She has been protecting the citizens in a variety of ways.
And will be forever, until the end of all of our days.
Athena heard the soothsayer and rewarded her with money.
She also sent her barley, gemstones, wheat, rice, and honey.
The soothsayer sang Athena’s praises for the rest of her life.
With Athena around, Athens did not undergo very much strife.
Would you like to share a root beer float the kitty said.
She liked her own better, but kept quiet, being well-bred.
They sat at the outside café, the geraniums were red.
That is where she fell in love with her new boyfriend, Ned.
The brumby of Australia, not known to be well bred
Some are tough as leather, but that not often said
More criticised that praised, for damage that they do
Muddying the waterholes, as cattle never do
The biggest problem that they have, their wish to have a roll
Find some nice clean water, then muddy up the hole
They will get to station horses, the mares have foul breed foals
The quality completely gone, and fences torn to holes
The stockman love to muster them, the wildest of the rides
Chase them way along the flat, and down the mountain sides
But we also have a saying, and is so very true
You should never kill a good horse, as some brumby chasers do
So though it is so very sad, we have to thin them out
We can only breed fine horses, if no brumbies are about
Your life depends on stamina, and full trust in your mount
It is your horse that saves your life, more times than you can count
Be cursed anew, ye demon!
This well bred one, forswear.
Ugly, who maketh ugly.
Vile maketh vile.
Have you seen the fungus gnat?
Its effect, none can bear?
Its like there hung! To harm dear's
Smile; orchid's smile.
Marie Antoine Cat is too refined for my taste.
The bachelor Tom said with disdain and haste.
I thought this was too bad, for it was kind of a waste.
Would have made a fine litter, both city-paced.
That tom is sneaky another feline cat said.
He probably has romantic thought in his handsome head.
He tries to pretend he’s not interested, but he’s not dead.
She is a gorgeous kitty, fluffy and very well-bred.
I had no idea what Tom’s intentions were, true.
But if he wanted good blood, Marie Antoine’s was quite blue.
I decided to step out of it, for I had not a clue
What either was thinking or feeling or what they might do.
Jimmy’s pretty donkey had a head for math
She was kind also, never got even, never had any wrath
Male donkeys in the stable were always sniffing around
They loved her beauty, and her empathetic energetic sound
Donkey named Little Red was a barnyard beauty for sure
She was also true to her word, and her heart was totally pure.
I am going to marry her, the bachelor donkeys all said.
She rolled her eyes at this; none of them were very well-bred.
These children need a male role model, the teacher said.
But, I argued. He would have to be sane, right in the head.
She rolled her eyes, believing that all males are well-bred.
Which tells me that her global knowledge is all but dead.
What about that dude? I ask as he climbs off a mo-ped.
He doesn’t look like our type, said the teacher, Miss. Fred.
The guy laughed at her idiocy, and picked lint off his thread.
This, my dear, is our Principal, Mr. Theodore also called Ted.
She looks embarrassed, and her face turns a lovely red.
These children need a male role model, she quickly tells Ted.
Ted nods his head and says “I have been to my homestead.”
“Shortly, we will be joined by my big brother Take-No-Prisoners-Ned.”
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