Related quotes
The blacksmith's horse and the cobbler's wife are always the last to have shoes.
The shoemaker's wife and the blacksmith's horse often go unshod.
If you're a blacksmith, probably the proudest day of your life is when you get your first anvil. How innocent you are, little blacksmith.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The blacksmith in one village becomes a blacksmith's apprentice in another.
Wind Horse
Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, gentle Wind horse, you were the last of your kind.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you were running wild and free.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, with this freedom you did nothing but give;
When one called for help you carried them to safety,
No enemy did you have.
Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you gave your life one day
To a boy with no leg.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you gave him your endless love.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you now run in the Great Hunting Grounds;
Giving joy to those there, as you did here.
Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, your life was not the last gift
You gave the People.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you prayed for us, you wished a wish for us.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, we remember you through your brother Horse.
Wi: yo: h … It is good.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, we see you still.
poem by Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Horse Is A Horse
A horse is a horse and a man is a man
And neither can be the other
And each can survive but is much better
In the company of one another.
And while a horse is a horse and that is true
A horse is but a beast
As a cow is a cow, some ask how
On its flesh we should not feast?
For they do so in France as in other places
And I don't know how they can
For while a horse is a horse and is only a horse
It is less a cow than it is a man!
poem by Tomás Ó Cárthaigh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Horseshoe
Maya, the lovelorn lass in the stable who spends the whole life
with a hobble horse as a hobby until she became a hoary woman.
One day the stallion said goodbye to her.
But still she hears its sorrowful neigh.
The cruel life hoaxed up to her death bed.
Now she rest in peace behind the stable in the horse's grave.
The Blacksmith's beautiful daughter who carries a horseshoe at all.
The teacher questioned her in the Sunday school.
'Where do you come from Maya? '
'I am staying behind the horsewoman's graveyard' She replied.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
An old fashioned horse in a modern racecourse
I choose my destination
But someone interrupts
And they ask where do you go on vacation?
I say sorry my dear, the word 'vacation' has disappeared
since a long time in my notepad.
And this working horse gallops out of the track
So never reach the goal it seems.
Even I do not have a leisure time to replace my wearied horseshoes.
Someone interrupts!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
And the life is a journey but not a rat race!
I understand that I cannot run like a horse
And that would be much appreciated
Merits for you Sir!
My rickety stable is much safer than the racecourse.
But I have a small question,
Why in my peaceful dreams
They try to pierce my bare feet
And wear the horseshoes?
*[ When I come home after work she goes out for struggle and when she comes back I go out again, the old ragged station Master who knows about our complicated schedule and he sees us everyday with his dim lantern.
These two shuttle service trains are wearied now and when we go for shunting? ]
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Me & My Horse
riding together,
you and your horse.
as you run against the wind all you call hear is-
the wind wipping your ears,
the horse's hooves thundering beneath you,
the chains of your bit as the horse pulls against the reins,
and the faint sound of the horse behind you.
your horse stops,
the horse behind you catches up.
the race is over,
freedom will have to wait until next time.
poem by Horse Lover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Horse For Dinner
A horse A horse
My kingdom for a horse,
A horse A horse
For the main course
Muscles of might
Pulled so tight,
A body of organs
All for a meal
Why a horse?
Why not a deer?
A horse does the work,
A deer will just peer
A horse is strong
a deer has no uses,
so there for a deer
suffers the abuses
Condemned is a deer
as from the day it's born,
until the day it dies
and its meaty flesh torn
So why a horse
if a deer has no uses?
because I am a man
Who too, has suffered too many abuses
poem by John McAdam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Shack Dye
The white men played all sorts of jokes on me.
They took big fish off my hook
And put little ones on, while I was away
Getting a stringer, and made me believe
I hadn't seen aright the fish I had caught.
When Burr Robbins circus came to town
They got the ring master to let a tame leopard
Into the ring, and made me believe
I was whipping a wild beast like Samson
When I, for an offer of fifty dollars,
Dragged him out to his cage.
One time I entered my blacksmith shop
And shook as I saw some horse-shoes crawling
Across the floor, as if alive --
Walter Simmons had put a magnet
Under the barrel of water.
Yet everyone of you, you white men,
Was fooled about fish and about leopards too,
And you didn't know any more than the horse-shoes did.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Broken Axletree
On the Track of Grand Endeavour, on the long track out to Bourke,
Past the Turn-Back, and past Howlong, and the pub at Sudden Jerk,
Past old Bullock-Yoke and Bog Flat, and the “Pinch” at Stick-to-me,
Lies the camp that we have christened—christened “Broken Axletree.”
We were young and strong and fearless, we had not seen Mount Despair,
And the West was to be conquered, and we meant to do our share;
We were far away from cities, and were fairly off the spree
When we camped at Cart Wheel River with a broken axletree.
Oh, the pub at Devil’s Crossing! and the woman that he sent!
And the hell for which we bartered horse and trap and “traps” and tent!
And the black “Since Then”—the chances that we never more may see—
Ah! the two lives that were ruined for a broken axletree!
“Fate” is but a Cart Wheel River, placed to test us by the Lord,
And the Star of Live Forever shines beyond At Blacksmith’s Ford!
Shun all fatalists and “isms”—heed no talk of “destiny”!
Ride a race for life to Blacksmith’s with your broken axletree.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ye Olde Asses Inn
There is an inn where they would meet
For crumpets and a spot of tea.
A reading of the scroll took place...
To honor those of a certain grace.
The blacksmith thereupon would leave,
To polish saddles and brass horse bits!
And when the meeting came to an end...
The waitress was paid a hefty tip!
Ye Olde Asses Inn.
All the clients are old men.
Nothing has changed...
Since the invention of quilled feathered pens!
Everyone agrees an 'update' is in dire need!
Especially since the prostitutes...
Have no spaces to park their mercedes in!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Close enough for horseshoes and hand grenades.
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Close only counts in horseshoes and hand-grenades.
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The confusing of horse and donkey
There was a man
riding on a horse
horse have a mark of cross
horse saw a monkey
and from horse comes out a donkey
poem by Shahzeb Azhar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!