A plaster house, a horse at grass, a friend in words, are all mere glass.
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Why Oh Why Did I Ever Leave Wyoming
The grass was green
The grass was tall
The cattle were fat
But the profit was small
So I decided to leave that fall.
My girl friend got wind of it
And she began to bawl
You see I left more than a girl friend
I left a pretty good spread
I left a horse named Don
And a dog named Ned
I had my own bunk house
I had my own bed
I never went to breakfast
Until my horse was fed.
poem by T.Wesley Steidley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Ride My Horse
I feel the wind
I hear the birds
I ride my horse
As I sing words
I see the grass
I feel the leather
I ride my horse
Upon the heather
I taste the dust
I see the heat
I ride my horse
To his own beat
I feel the joy
I taste the fun
I ride my horse
Into the yellow sun
poem by Horse Poet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Ride My Horse II
Sunlight...
I feel the sun
Warm on my skin
Shining on me
As I ride my horse
Wind…
I feel the wind
Combing my hair
Flowing past me
As I ride my horse
Sky…
I see the sky
Open above me
Calling to me
As I ride my horse
Grass…
I see the grass
All around me
Surrounding me
As I ride my horse
poem by Horse Poet
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The White Horse...
on that early dawn
they arrived. I will not tell you
exactly how many were they.
they brought the wild horse again
this time it is white and coy
they did not speak to me
my attention was focused on the
beautiful horse
i did not show that i liked it
i did not talk too
then they brought the horse inside
the house
and then the windows and doors
were closed
and then the white horse started to
dance
and i liked it more
it was then that i realized
what are they really
and why are they here bringing me
a beautiful white horse
will they take my antique chairs
made of rosewood?
will i bargain my house
for a horse?
just for a horse
and they whose names i do not really know
shall laugh
after they had finally taken the whole of what i have
just for a white horse whose talent is just
to dance?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Plaster Caster
Babys getting anxious, the hours getting late
The night is almost over, she cant wait
Oh, things are complicating, my love is in her hands
And theres no more waiting, she understands
The plasters gettin harder and my love is perfection
A token of my love for her collection, her collection
Plaster caster, grab a hold of me faster
And if you wanna see my love, just ask her
And my love is the plaster
And yeah, shes the collector
She wants me all the time to inject her
The plasters gettin harder and my love is perfection
A token of my love for her collection
Plaster caster, plaster caster
Grab a hold of me faster, plaster, faster
And if you wanna see my love, just ask her, ask her
Go on, ask her
The plasters gettin harder and my love is perfection
A token of my love for her collection, her collection
Plaster caster, plaster caster
Grab a hold of me faster, plaster, faster
If you wanna see my love, just ask her, ask her
Plaster caster, plaster caster
She wants my love to last her, last her, last her
And she calls me by the name of master, master
Plaster caster, plaster caster
Grab a hold of me faster, plaster, faster
If you wanna see my love, just ask her, ask her
Plaster caster, plaster caster
Grab a hold of me faster, plaster, faster
And if you wanna see my love, just ask her, ask her
Plaster caster, plaster caster
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Epithalamium
A bee in the field. The house on the mountain
reveals itself to have been there through summer.
It's not a bee but a horse eating frosted grass
in the yawn light. Secrets, the anguish of smoke
above the chimney as it shreds what it's learned
of fire. The horse has moved, it's not a horse
but a woman doing the stations of the cross
with a dead baby in her arms. The anguish of the house
as it reveals smoke to the mountain. A woman
eating cold grass in Your name, shredding herself
like fire. The woman has stopped, it's not a woman
but smoke on its knees keeping secrets in what it reveals.
The everything has moved, it's not everything
but a shredding of the anguish of names. The marriage
of light: particle to wave. Do you take? I do.
The Long Race
Up the old hill to the old house again
Where fifty years ago the friend was young
Who should be waiting somewhere there among
Old things that least remembered most remain,
He toiled on with a pleasure that was pain
To think how soon asunder would be flung
The curtain half a century had hung
Between the two ambitions they had slain.
They dredged an hour for words, and then were done.
“Good-bye!… You have the same old weather-vane—
Your little horse that’s always on the run.”
And all the way down back to the next train,
Down the old hill to the old road again,
It seemed as if the little horse had won.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Color Blind
What color do you see
or is it what you believe?
I see a horse blue
and the grass purple,
or is it the other way round?
I live in Lexington
where horse racing is fun,
where grass is believed to be blue
and the horse is seen as purple.
You need not this believe.
You I do not deceive.
The horse stands proudly on the corner,
conceived in purple for the contest
to promote what the city is known for best.
Everyone knows that who wagers.
Our eyes sometimes us deceive.
What we believe is not what we see.
poem by Ben Gieske
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I Ride My Horse
I feel the wind
I hear the birds
I ride my horse
As I sing words
I see the grass
I feel the leather
I ride my horse
Upon the heather
I taste the dust
I see the heat
I ride my horse
To his own beat
I feel the joy
I taste the fun
I ride my horse
Into the yellow sun
The Houses
1898 -- A Song of the Dominions
'Twixt my house and thy house the pathway is broad,
In thy house or my house is half the world's hoard;
By my house and thy house hangs all the world's fate,
On thy house and my house lies half the world's hate.
For my house and thy house no help shall we find
Save thy house and my house -- kin cleaving to kind;
If my house be taken, thine tumbleth anon.
If thy house be forfeit, mine followeth soon.
'Twixt my house and thy house what talk can there be
Of headship or lordship, or service or fee?
Since my house to thy house no greater can send
Than thy house to my house -- friend comforting friend;
And thy house to my house no meaner can bring
Than my house to thy house -- King counselling King.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Kentucky Derby
(for Smarty Jones)
horse-naked
a barn sleeper
he can swim in the sun, in a barn
he loafs in an apple yard,
snapping the pea grass
as blossoms inhale and exhale kentucky spring
his friend the goat is
patiently
trimming the grass beneath
today is saturday
steel strips are winged to his toes
tiny shields
he can carry a man running
his tail is a whisper trail
in sharp silk clothing
a fearless man holds on
still cropping the slender useless whip
a man and a race-horse in a jagged steady burst
pushing through the vortex
is this the vortex of horse speed?
a horse in a puff
in a dreamscape a puff
can he see the dawn coming?
he's fast!
on his toes and
he's passed us!
poem by Jimi Doyle
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Getting A Horse
So here I am
15 and over weight
not especially pretty
but not bad;
but invisible
and I hide in gym
and the looks I get
keep me in my place.
I try for friends
but the other outcasts
like me
don't seem to want to
draw attention;
can't talk to anyone,
teachers think I'm dull
I talk to my pillow
only my cat understands me
And, of course,
I don't have a boy friend.
She:
'Ok, let go through all of this.
What do you think comes first.
Why don't you pretend that you are your best friend
What would you tell you best friend to do? '
Daughter:
'I don't know.
I would tell her to think about what she can do
or what she really likes.'
'And that is? '
'Horses'
'Horses'.
'I didn't know you liked horses.'
'They are neat.'
'Ok tell your friend what to do about liking horses.
What does she want to do? '
'She wants a horse.'
'Wants a horse
To get a horse what does she needs to do.'
'Get some money.'
'Well how? '
'Maybe babysitting? '
'Sure tell your friend I have someone who needs babysitting
and she can do it to make money.'
'So I did, took a year,
but I got my horse.
some friends along the way
and a boyfriend.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Horse and Rider
The prairie blows the grasses
And whips the horse’s mane.
They travel, horse and rider,
Through the sea of amber grain
Hills roll by, and clouds pass
But steady are the horse’s hooves
Upon the wind blown grass
As they travel, horse and rider
There is no trail that they follow
No path that can be seen
There they travel, horse and rider
Upon the endless blowing green
poem by Horse Poet
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Just a Horse
From time to time,
People tell me 'lighten up, it's just a horse.'
From time to time
People tell me, ' a lot of money spent'
From time to time
People tell me, 'it's just a horse.'
If you really think it's
'Just a horse, '
Like 'just a promise, '
'Just a friend, '
Than you can't see
The beauty of it all.
You just can't see.
The distance traveled,
The time spent,
And the costs involved for
'Just a horse.'
The reason to rise,
Early in the morning,
Taking those long walks,
Even when it's pouring.
It's my proudest moments,
My only company,
The saddest moments,
And the gentle touch,
That gave me a reason to go on.
It's the hopes and dreams,
And the coming of the future.
The fond memories of the past,
And the unforgettable joy of the coming day.
So...
If you really think it's,
'Just a horse, '
Like 'just a promise, '
'Just a friend, '
Than you can't see,
The beauty of it all.
You just can't see.
'Just a horse'
Brings out the best in me,
'Just a horse'
It gives me who I am and
Keeping me from being,
'Just a girl.'
'Just a woman'
'Just another passing being'
I'll smile and nod to agree,
knowing deep down I don't.
you may think it's 'just a horse, '
but it never will be for me.
If you really think it's,
'Just a horse, '
Like 'just a promise, '
'Just a friend, '
Than you can't see,
The beauty of it all.
You just can't see.
poem by Jess Schwarcz
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What is a Horse?
What is a horse?
A horse has eyes as dainty as a mink.
The grace is interrupted merely by a blink.
A horse is beauty.
What is a horse?
A horse is a tree in a storm that never goes down.
A horse is a weathered rock that stays around.
A horse is ancient.
What is a horse?
A horse waltzes like breeze over rivers.
She curvets and leaps like rain shivers.
A horse is a marionette.
What is a horse?
A horse is determination, that never stops flowing.
A horse is fondness, that never stops growing.
A horse is poetic power.
poem by Lily Whittaker
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Princess And The Black Horse-II
The sun came out with smiling face,
from the horizon of deep blue sea.
The sky became as crimson red,
They crossed the blank-blank lea.
There they met, a good wizard,
he listened her all history.
Gave her a magical flower-dust,
which he kept in a hole of a tree.
They had together, the sunflower juice,
and drank the dazzling ray of the sun.
Her Bird-horse, ate too all which she had.
They set out, as before the day did burn,
they had to reach friend's kingdom.
She took the dust, and the wand with her.
Rode on the winged-horse and bade good bye.
'Blackberry, fly fast'-She whispered, in his ear.
'Yes, Ma'am, 'it seemed the bird answered.
The breeze was rustling, bright was the noon.
The princess was afraid, could she reach,
his father's friend's castle so soon?
'If night drops down her black curtain,
the power of the wand would go away,
The bird would be horse then again!
'Yes, '-Black-berry said his head did sway.
What to do was to take rest in an inn,
or in a very safe and enemy free place,
in a house of simple man, or in a tavern,
'No fear, we will be saved by God's grace! '
Uttering these words, she embraced her horse,
and said-oh! fatigued am I, now feel sleepy,
but I may fall, and face thus my end.'
'You can sleep, my princess, your eyes are droopy.'
poem by Nilakshi Das
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My Horse And Me
I LOVE MY HORSE AND I'LL TELL YOU WHY
HE'S THE BEST HORSE AROUND AND THAT IS NO LIE
HE'S TOUGH AND SMART AND ALWAYS DOES THE RIGHT THING
WHATEVER I ASK AND RIDES LIKE A DREAM
HE'S NOT THE BIGGEST HORSE IN THE BARN
HE'S KIND OF LAID BACK, LIKE HE DOESN'T GIVE A DARN
HE'S PRETTY, NO DOUBT, BUT THAT ISN'T WHAT SHOWS
IT'S HIS HEART THAT'S SO BIG, THAT IT OVERFLOWS
I KNOW WHAT HE'S THINKING THOUGH HE CAN'T SAY THE WORDS
HE'S LISTENED TO ME WHEN I NEEDED TO BE HEARD
HE'S AS LOYAL A FRIEND AS I'VE EVER HAD
ALWAYS HAPPY TO SEE ME AND NEVER MAKES ME FEEL BAD
HE TRUSTS ME WITH HIS LIFE, AND I TRUST HIM WITH MINE
IT'S A BOND THAT'S NEVER BROKEN, AND GET'S STRONGER WITH TIME
WHEN WE'RE ON THE TRAIL, THERE'S NO BETTER PLACE TO BE
THAN ENJOYING THE WOODS, JUST MY HORSE AND ME
poem by Kathleen West
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Glass
Words of a poem should be glass
But glass so simple-subtle its shape
Is nothing but the shape of what it holds.
A glass spun for itself is empty,
Brittle, at best Venetian trinket.
Embossed glass hides the poem of its absence.
Words should be looked through, should be windows.
The best word were invisible.
The poem is the thing the poet thinks.
If the impossible were not,
And if the glass, only the glass,
Could be removed, the poem would remain.
poem by Robert Francis
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Horse and Rider
The prairie blows the grasses
And whips the horse’s mane.
They travel, horse and rider,
Through the sea of amber grain
Hills roll by, and clouds pass
But steady are the horse’s hooves
Upon the wind blown grass
As they travel, horse and rider
There is no trail that they follow
No path that can be seen
There they travel, horse and rider
Upon the endless blowing green
Green Horse
The green horse strolls saddleless
the dust and grass
flowers painted on glass
images of the trademarks
on the shinning shackles
The restless strokes of darkness
the fiery strokes of fire
brave instincts for the forgetful
the lust less gaze of the
lusty framed muscles
burn….
Green horse in fire!
With the last doves retirement
the buzzing receding
and one time familiar sweatiness
return untouched
from beneath the burning flesh!
Charring anatomy of the green horse …..
should the shackles disappear:
the gypsy city welcome
the creatures of beaded pearls
the green horse
the burning anatomy…
the shinning anatomy!
poem by Anirban Sengupta
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