such a happy treat
an apple for special friend
equine contentment
warm winter stable
happy whinnies from within
affectionate nudge
spring will soon be here
uplifting sight horse grazing
high spirits prevail
Writing Challenge
H Words
Chosen Word Horse
Sponsored
by:
Constance La France
27/02/2023
Pixabay Image by Emma_Ted
What’s that glowing unusually bright?
Alone in the deep woods at midnight.
Look! It has an illuminating horn and mane
Four graceful legs with a bushy tail.
It’s coat as soft as velvet;
It’s ash eyes, as sweet as a baby ferret.
It’s muzzle as tender as a foal’s
Shining bright like fire burning on coal.
Nervously as it trots down the path
In an ice cold lake for a freezing bath.
Its slender legs break into a run,
Mane fluttering like the rays of the sun.
The melody of the enchanted lilting into the blue
As the mystic creature passes through.
In the color of a drop of moon milk,
Feathery tail hair as smooth as silk.
Raising its neck, it whinnies away
Into the woods, it goes on to sway.
As it fades away in the deeper jungle,
Vanishing in the speed of light, just incredible!
Could you guess who that mystic creature was?
A Unicorn! As if a creation from Mars.
One end of a mule is certain to reek
Its alternative end whinnies and shrieks
A mule may let go
So you'd better know
Which end will just speak ~ and which spreads its cheeks
The squirrels are dashing here and there.
desperately filling winter larders.
They are still crazy for nuts, after all these years.
Autumn spurs the living and is a rest-home for the dying
it brings in new snow from the high hills
and turns flakes into cold raindrops.
The wind whinnies like a small wild pony.
Marginal changes happen
within a fluid hinterland.
Eyes get wider, feet heavier.
Kids get louder, expecting
God knows what.
Honey and tea for allergies
and sniffles.
The elderly
just sweep stiff crackling leaves
off their heads and shoulders
while asking the stars
for one last dance.
Harry Finnegan loved his horse,
Not in the carnal sense of course,
Just as a valued animal friend
Loyal and faithful to the end.
You’d see them every day up town
On Harry’s milk and yoghurt round
Bringing foods of taste and class
To places others dare not pass.
There wasn’t a place – high or low
That Harry and horse would not go.
Harry didn’t know the truth of course,
His nag was a police undercover horse,
Digi cameras in each front hoof
And in his mane to film the roof,
A mobile phone to fit beneath
Both of his two large front teeth,
A special code of whinnies and neighs
To direct the force all the way
To the scene of a spotted crime
Helping them arrive in time.
Local villains trembled in despair
Wondering how the police got there.
Watch this space some other night
More revelations if the time is right
But nobody twigged how crime went down
On Harry Finnegan’s Yoghurt round.
And Harry Finnegan loved his horse
But not in the carnal sense of course.
Busy bees, honey please,
fuzzy golden brown seas,
displeased feverish breeze.
I've tried so hard to keep
the bees off the three sheep,
but these bees seem to wheeze
on by the trees and tease.
Gee whiz! Don't they know where
there hive is where they share?
Don't they care birds in air?
Bees full of nectars joy
chasing past a young boy
not the slightest bit coy.
Around the sweet fillies
a garland of lilies;
Millie, Billie, Gillies,
and Willies all whinnies.
Indeed, offspring hinnies;
took heed of the queen bee's
swarm stings, fast run to flee.
I'm runnin , pumpin free
on the edge of the quay.
2-9-2018
My grandson is running around the cul-de-sac
Riding bareback
On horseback
Yelling giddy up Jack.
Whoa! Jack.
Grandma do you have my backpack?
Can we please have a snack?
A horse head on a long stick done in soft black
And brown material whinnies when my grand-
Son gives him an apple snack.
My grandson gives his rump a little whack
Then yells let's go Jack
Off they go running around the cal-de-sac.
The greatest part is I am getting this on Kodak.
There's nothing a child's imagination lacks.
I think I will extend
His time for a little while longer before the magic
Comes to an end.
As dawn starts to streak across the sky
heralding in the new born day.
Feisty rooster already perched on the wall
giving forth with all his might, he crows.
Sleepy hens, ducks and geese scat for worms.
Low moos emitting from the milking parlour
mingling with the sucking sounds of machines
as they gather the rich creamy milk in containers.
Banging of impatient hooves from the shire horses
hungry for their grain, tossing heads and stamping,
loud neighs and whinnies fill the early dawn.
Soon they will be at work ploughing and farrowing fields.
Farmhouse door opens smell of eggs and bacon wafting,
farmer's wife emerges carrying pails heavy with slops.
As she nears the pigsty the grunts and squeals grow
barging, pushing as they search for tasty scraps.
A caterwaul of noise from the rookery deafening,
as they wheel and spin around the yard thieving.
Slowly as the animals return to the sweet meadows
life settles back to normal, until tomorrows dawn.
written 09/15/2013
contest Nature
Whinny and Spit
When a man’s young,
the work’s hard
but it pays well
and he can feed
the wife and kids.
Mornings he throws
crates off trucks,
and after lunch he
throws crates again.
But as he grows older,
and some say
ready to retire,
he stops
in mid-afternoon,
mounts his throne
of skids, lets
his legs drip
over the side,
tosses his head,
whinnies and spits.
Donal Mahoney
Proud and gallant he rides in a field
The smell of lavender sprinkles the air
She knows not if the vision before her is real
He sees her sitting on an old stump
Making a wreath of white daisies
Then carefully approaches her and whinnies
Of pure heart this maiden is
He puts his noble head in her lap
She touches his horn in disbelief
Her chastity is the only key
To unlock the secret
The girl then awakens in a haze
His
Withers quiver
With power from his hooves,
Tough thunder. He whinnies and snorts...
He flies.
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