I am all over Wiltshire
High up on the hills
I am immune from fire
To tourists I give thrills
You can see me from afar
By plane, on foot or in a car
I am as old as time can be
Many people have come to see
You can walk up close to stroke me
It can be a tiring experience
But when you reach me you will see
I am part of a greater sequence
I am one of thirteen
But five have sadly been lost
Leaving 8 of us to be seen
The other 5 are waiting to be uncrossed
I am the second oldest in wiltshire
Cut in seventeen eighty
There are even some of us in Yorkshire
So drive along the A4 a don't be lazy
Park up in the lay-by at the foot of my hill
Choose a path to the summit
Breathing heavy yes you will
The scenery at the top will be worth it
You can see miles and miles
From Calne, Avebury and Devizes
Stand at the monument starting as rock piles
Take a picnic and see all the other surprises
His eyes as a flame of fire
On his head were many crowns
And he had a name written
that no man knew but himself
And he was clothed with a vesture
dipped in blood
And his name is called the word of God
So I read this two times I needed understanding badly
So I listen with an intensity
My Brown Eyes shyly read the other page
And the armies which were in the heaven
followed him upon the white horse clothed in linen
White and clean.
And out of his mouth continues to go a sharp sword
that with it his shoulder smite the nations ok
And he shall rule them with a rod of iron
The Kings on earth must be loved
The chosen lords in the land
And he treaded the winepress of the fierceness
and wrath of Almighty God
And he had on a vesture
On his thigh, a name is written
KING of Kings and LORD of Lords!The White Horse
The word of God
I thought about this today.
I looked, behold, there stood a great white horse;
Its rider had a lethal, silent bow.
And on his head, a crown, rough-hewn and coarse,
And there he went, a-conquering his foe.
And lo, there came another horse, bright red;
Its rider reaped the peace and sowed discord
So great that people slew each other dead,
And in his hand, a perilous great sword.
A stallion, black like the night, then strode;
The rider’s hand gripped scales, ‘twas heard a voice:
“The cost of wheat and barley shall explode;
Harm not the finest oils and wines of choice!”
Alas, a proud horse, pale and bearing Death,
With Hades lurking close behind in tow,
Brought famine, war and pestilence, snatched breath,
And left a wake of desolation, woe.
(from Revelation 6)
If you’re looking for some good, clean fun
Let me tell what this white horse has done
Seen it with my own eyes
In a mud hole it lies
There is a clean, dirty joke - no pun
~~~
I cleaned up and went on my first date
Coming home, felt good – it went great
Fell in a mud puddle
My date would not cuddle
I doubt if he’ll ever be my mate
Two Limericks - Let's have some Fun! Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
February 27, 2021
Syllable counts were checked with Howmanysyllable.com
Rhymes were checked with Rhymezone.com
The dragon blows his fiery breath, his scales red and hot,
and he flies through the blackened sky.
He’s got seven heads to bring rule to seven devastated lands;
mercy to those who dare keep their heads high.
The Earth is pitiful—don’t you think so, my friend?
It trembles under the beat of his wings, terrorized and ashamed
with nothing to give
for a church who cries under a bloody moon:
“Holy, holy, hallelujah.”
It’s like ecstasy when prophets fall for their own deceit,
deluded by their prideful sins.
They say every knee should bow; respect the dragon’s teeth
or suffer his horns through heartstrings.
But we will not fall, and we will not go down,
if we stand as one and we stand strong, the children of God.
So stand tall with me.
Ain’t she beautiful—the white horse in the sky?
Behind her, the trumpets sing.
She’s so brave though, the way she charges through the flames,
the Light of the World upon her back.
Ain’t it amazing grace?
The dragon falls today.
Before the Roman legions carved a road
This stallion coursed across the chalk ridge brow
Unharnessed, free or by a king bestrode
Like wave traversing grassland free of plough
It still pursues its quest yet even now
Note: This is the oldest of the many white horses carved into chalk hillsides across southern England. It has been dated to The Bronze or Iron ages. (Pre-Roman occupation)
Drover, ride your white horse...ride it with grit
on the sun-scorched prairies
of the Mississippi Valley:
where no tree is found in a shady spot,
but plenty of wild daisies
and pink roses distract you constantly!
Winter came with snow and haze,
and the buffalos couldn't graze;
now, in the open prairie, they do
and aren't startled by your gallops or
fear being chased and hunted by two
or three lasso-throwing cowboys for
their gorgeous hides to make a fortune...
hear them whistling a Kenny Roger's tune!
Drover, ride your white horse...ride it with grit
through the rich farmlands burning,
until you'll get hungry, thirsty and tired;
sit down by the Mississipi River and unwind,
observe the clearest water flowing
as Mark Twin did while he was writing!
Drover, ride the white horse, ride it with grit...
while thinking how far is your home,
how lonely is your wife holding Jerome!
Copyright ( c ) 2018 by Andrew Crisci
Outside my window
Rushing and hurdling with no effort building
I gaze at the foaming waves galloping towards the shore
no aberration to remember, no ambition it could not endorse
as no rock can ever crash the zealous white horse
no shady future to consider
no fears to make it shiver
There’s one aim, one goal
Where greater intentions never fall
to rise higher and reach the glory
to leave behind a rattling good story
Roll in, roll out
No distractions, no doubt.
7TH PLACE
For Eight Word Challenge Contest
Sponsor: Robert Haigh
words: outside, building, remember, horse, consider, future, intentions, greater
I follow you my love on a pale white horse
Of blended breed and marked discourse
A Wiley creature so tuned to you
Your pace your path the things you do
And were you but to look back at us
We appear as one interwoven thus
His pace is fast on ground or air
Feathered beast he is winged shoulder to rear.
A pleasure to mount a rascal to ride
Collusions’ of one as we fly in the sky
A magical beast as pure as the snow
Unbeknownst to you my love we go where you go
A curse for eternity a sad lovers song
I ride the pale white horse till the day I am gone
A pleasure and pride I assure you my love
To ride a pale white horse is a gift from above.
when my eyes are closed
you appear in my
dreams
my tears are rolling down
where have you gone
girl
when blue breeze caress me
i remember your breath
darling
flowers are blooming now
your kisses i feel
here
when silver streams babble
your giggle embrace me
where are you hiding
what is the point in
living
when you are missing
soul mate
come back on the white
horse now
i am
still waiting under your
tree of love
Our exquisite Queen of passion
Rides on a dazzling white horse
Within her hand she wields a pen
Describing adventures of course
She takes us to many places
So our own psyches we can explore
To the thoughts of former lovers
Or through imaginary doors
Within her realm she is fearless
A true warrior of the mind
Some say the passion whisperer
She can give color to the blind
The fountain of her thoughts endless
With her we travel back in time
To former days of gallantry
As we engage in every line
Mesmerized by her artistry
As we follow her where she goes
Eileen's sexy has no limits
Ooh la la licious as it flows
Dedicated to Eileen, our queen of passion.
Alone I stand, the blasted thorn,
Devoid of leaves and all forlorn,
A sentinel for countless years,
Of storms and gales I have no fears.
Ignored by man and sheep and rook
Into the vale I longing, look,
O’er Uffington I survey, long,
As through my twigs a mournful song
Is whispered by the Western wind.
Against the slope I’m firmly pinned,
In ancient chalk my roots are bound
In sight, below, of dragon’s mound.
Unchanging down the ages, I,
Stark silhouette against the sky
And visitors espy me still
Abandoned here, on White Horse Hill.
The White Mare
the incoming tide made an island out of
the sand bank where I sat, king for a day,
made a crown of coarse grass
but since I only ruled over a few crabs, who
bit my finger when I shook their claws, I
renounced my crown and swam ashore.
Sanitation workers, in blue overalls and
logo, heckled me since I was not like them
and they made fun of my crown.
On an incoming wave a white mare came,
bareback I mounted and gently the horse
trotted amongst the awestruck workers
The horse in my mind, gallops away,
His hooves, beat inside my skull,
Like the waves, that pound, upon our strong hull
I hold tight, but the vision won’t stay
I see him now, that mighty white stallion
Galloping freely, upon the wet shore
The sound of his hooves, makes me need him the more
An escape from this old pale galleon
And so at last, we row to the beach
I have travelled so far for this dream
Prancing majestically, his eagerness shows
yet still nervous, he stays out of reach
Slowly he paces toward me, snorting a cloud of steam
I know now my journey is over, as he gently nuzzles my nose
I have selected the theme of 'Horses'
Written by : Nick Bagnall
For contest by : Constance ~ A Rambling Poet ~
Contest Name : Horses or Snowflakes or Horses and Snowflakes
Awarded : Tenth Place
It seemed like a dream that he came to me
Dressed in silver armour, riding on a white steed
Coming with only love for his deed
Carrying me away on the pancing horse
To the rock castle way above the course
Ere we enter, the golden lined way
Touched by his presence in a special bay
Filled with refreshing waters cool and calm
Once they are swallowed sins all gone
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