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Why is it there are so many more horses' asses than there are horses?
quote by G. Gordon Liddy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Remember Lot's Wife
One is taken and the other is left down,
One is spoken to and the other is written to,
But remember Lot's wife and learn!
For if your child ask you of fish,
Will you give him a snake? !
Then think twice before you leap.
Life is full of ups and downs but,
Be very strong always to carry on;
And like the fig tree planted in the vineyard,
be very focus on your dreams.
Red horses and black horses,
White horses and dappled horses,
And with the bay horses to write this muse;
Life is guided by the four spirits of the heavens but,
Yu've sown much and brought in a little.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We sometime didn't get enough to buy oats for our horses. Most banks had very little money in them.
quote by Frank James
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sowing my wild oats
Oats
Wild oats
My wild oats
Sowing my wild oats?
Since when did I have any wild oats to sow?
Middle age brings on the nostalgia for an enfance perdue
I would act differently now,
Gone wild with girls and boys
No doubt caught some venereal disease
But hopefully not AIDS
It is now that I have studied
And learnt that fornication
Viewed linguistically
Is from furnix,
the bridge where prostitutes hung out
So the prohibition if there was one
Was against prostitution, the abuse of women
Not against sex before marriage
With a loving partner
In a consensual relationship
And probably one leading to marriage.
How would that have changed me?
Would I have taken up some of the offers?
Male as well as female,
In Durham as well as in France?
Too late now but the will is still there
To love everyone, well almost, and sleep with many
Nothing worse though than a middle age man
Trying to live like a teenager
Wild oats are for the young,
With the old they are sour grapes.
©2009
James Hart
poem by James Hart
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Asses
'I KNOW where I'd get
An ass that would do,
If I had the money
A pound or two.'
Said a ragged man
To my uncle one day;
He got the money
And went on his way.
And after that time
In market or fair
I'd look at the asses
That might be there.
And wonder what kind
Of an ass would do
For a ragged man
With a pound or two.
O the black and roan horses the street would fill,
Their manes and tails streaming, and they standing still,
And their owners, the men of estate, would be there,
Refusing gold guineas for a colt or a mare.
And one, maybe, riding up and down like a squire
So that buyers from Dublin might see and admire
The hunter or racer come to be sold
And be willing and ready to pay out their gold.
With men slouching beside them and buyers not near
It's no wonder the asses held down head and ear.
They had been sold or in by-ways bought
For a few half-crowns tied up in a knot,
And no one so poor as to buy one might come
To that fair that had horses so well prized at home!
And then it fell out
That at Arva or Scrabbey,
At some down-county fair,
Or Mohill or Abbey,
On two asses I happened
Without duress or dole
They were there in the market,
A dam and her foal.
And the owner, a woman,
Did not slouch or stand,
But in her cart sitting
Was as grand as the grand;
Like a queen out of Connacht
From her toe to her tip,
Like proud Crania Uaile
On the deck of her ship.
And her hair 'twas a mane:
The blackberries growing
Out of the hedge-rows
Have the sheen it was showing,
There kind was with kind
Like the flowers in the grasses
If the owner was fine,
As fine were her asses.
White, white was the mother
As a dusty white road;
Black on back and on shoulders
The cross-marking showed.
She was tall she could carry
A youth stout of limb,
Or bear down from her mountain
The bride decked for him!
Such was the mother
The foal's hide was brown,
All fleecy and curly,
And soft like bog-down;
And it nuzzled its mother,
Its head to her knee,
And blue were its eyes
Like the pools of the sea!
Then I thought all the silver
My uncle could draw
Might not pay for the creatures
That that day I saw;
And I thought that old Damer,
Who had troughs made of gold,
Could not pay for the asses,
The young and the old.
And I think of them still
When I see on the roads
Asses unyoked,
And asses with loads;
One running and trotting,
With harness loose,
And a man striking and hitting
Where his stick has use;
And one with a hide
Like a patched-on sack
And two creels of turf
Upon its back;
And one in the market,
Meek and brown,
Its head to the cart-shafts
That are down;
Eating its forage
A wisp of hay;
In the dust of the highway
Munching away;
Unmarked in the market
As might be a mouse
Behind a low stool
In a quiet house
Then I think of the pair
Horses might not surpass
The dam and her foal,
The white ass and brown ass.
poem by Padraic Colum
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The horses of hope gallop, but the asses of experience go slowly.
A horse that will not carry a saddle must have no oats.
It's a very proud horse that will not carry his oats.
Oats. A grain, which in England is generally given to horses, but in Scotland supports the people.
Samuel Johnson in A Dictionary of the English Language
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Even a mangy camel will carry more that a herd of asses.
The Hatred In You
Dappled horses,
Bay horses,
Red horses,
Black horses,
White horses;
However, you boasted against us all with your mouth!
Because of the hatred in you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Mustangs Are Born Free (Monchielle)
Let wild horses run free
In mountains let them be
Release them let them go
Stop killing these horses
They are so scared you know
Let wild horses run free
Don't divide mom from baby
Wild horses to be free
Let them run in mountain
Don't take freedom away
Let wild horses run free
Let's join voices help horses
Take them where they belong
They truly need our help
Selling these horses wrong
Let wild horses run free
Since small I love horses
I grew up watch them grow
Mustangs are beautiful
They're unique smart you know.
September 24,2009
poem by Dorian Petersen Potter
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A Man's World
The world of a man climbs into sin,
His every move becomes his movement,
Like the snake that slithers and burns
Within the souls of asses.
My mobility has a crisis like his,
The running effect creeps up,
But the running has completion,
Unlike the asses.
A unique donkey would go to war
Over a significant rule of stupidity;
But my monster-moves require a blessing
Such that peace ensues.
A man shall sin twice before the fodder
Of asses is stolen by their stomachs,
And so the motions of the emotions
Repress the wars of our conception.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Clown's Reply
JOHN TROTT was desired by two witty peers
To tell them the reason why asses had ears?
'An't please you,' quoth John, 'I'm not given to letters,
Nor dare I pretend to know more than my betters;
Howe'er, from this time I shall ne'er see your graces,
As I hope to be saved! without thinking on asses.'
poem by Oliver Goldsmith
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All The Kings Horses
All the kings horses and all the kings men
Couldnt put me back together again
My heart lies in pieces all over the ground
Whos gonna help me when youre not around
And I know inside me ,that nobody cares
Whatever happens to me
I live my life as a plea
All the kings horses and all the kings men
Couldnt put me back together again
I was in love when I sat on my wall
No one could hurt me , no one at all
And I know that somewhere my love walked away
She threw my love to the sky
Nothing to do but to cry
All the kings horses and all the kings men
Couldnt put me back together again
All the kings horses , all the kings horses
All the kings horses , all the kings horses
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wild Horses
Childhood living
It's easy to do
The things you wanted
I bought them for you
Graceless lady
You know who I am
You know I can't let you
Slide through my hand
Wild horses
Couldn't drag me away
Wild horses
Couldn't drag me away
I watched you suffer
A dull aching pain
Now you're decided
To treat me the same
No sweeping exits
Or offstage lines
Could make me feel bitter
Or treat you unkind
Wild horses
Couldn't drag me away
Wild wild horses
Couldn't drag me away
I have my freedom
But I dont have much time
So let's do some living
After we die
Wild horses
Couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses
Couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses
Couldn't drag me away
Wild horses
We want them someday
song performed by by Garbage
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Horses Of The Sea
The horses of the sea
Rear a foaming crest,
But the horses of the land
Serve us the best.
The horses of the land
Munch corn and clover,
While the foaming sea-horses
Toss and turn over.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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