The horse thinks one thing and he that rides him another.
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Him My Wild Horse...I, the Chosen to Fly on HIS RIDE!
Eye Drop his translated name
In Portuguese just 'Pingo'
My Dearest Horse for so many rides we joined
Him, my brother, his horse and I
“Pingo” supposedly
'The Little Daddy's Boy's Horse'
But my brother he would drop
And scared the little boy was,
forever no horses he would ride...
Of “Pingo” he was afraid.
None’s to be on fault
The horse’s translated name was “Drop”
But truly just meant to join for a Gallop
'The Little Daddy's Boy afraid...
My Dad mad...No fun for me
YES! Let’s Swap!
There it was, all resolved.
'Pingo' forever now My Wild Horse
My brother and I on a run
My Dad Happy laud and proud
'Go Little Son', and all happy we were
Pingo and I, my brother and his friendly new horse
Following the horse tracks
Wild and Free, there we were
For our remarkable back horse rides
So what about the “Drop”?
Pingo and I jointly on flight no time to play
Any other act, Let’s Run My Wild Horse!
poem by Florida Angel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Long, Tall Texan
One, two, three, four
Giddy up
Giddy up
Well Im a long tall texan
I ride a big white horse
(he rides from texas on a big white horse)
Well Im a long tall texan
I ride a big white horse
(he rides from texas on a big white horse)
Well people look at me and say
Hurrah hurrah is that your horse?
(he rides from texas on a big white horse)
Yeah
Well Im a long tall texan
I wear a ten gallon hat
(he rides from texas with a ten gallon hat)
Well Im a long tall texan
I wear a ten gallon hat
(he rides from texas with a ten gallon hat)
Well people look at me and say
Hurrah hurrah is that your hat?
(he rides from texas with a ten gallon hat)
Yeah
Well I was walkin down the street
With my shinin badge
My spurs jinglin down at my feet
I seen a man a comin
Comin with a gun
And I just cant be beat
Well Im a long tall texan
I enforce justice for the law
(he rides from texas to enforce the law)
Well Im a long tall texan
I enforce justice for the law
(he rides from texas to enforce the law)
Well people look at me and say
Hurrah hurrah are you the law?
(he rides from texas to enforce the law)
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dark Road Ahead
The dark road ahead goes
On and On
Till I can stand no more
I sit down by an oak
And start to drift away
Into the distance I can see
A looming figure staring at me
On a horse it rides
On the on going road
He rides on the wind and the owl
Hoots he's coming home
The figure on the horse sits straight
And has a silhouette of black
As I drift to sleep I can't help but
Remember the figure from a dream
As it approaches I fall
Asleep
But for many days to come
In my dreams it'll stay
poem by Taylor Scherer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The horse thinks one thing, and his rider another.
One thing thinks the horse, and another he that saddles him.
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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Psalm 113
From this time forth and forevermore
Our Lord is worthy of all praise
Blessed be the name of Christ our King
Into His holiness we all shall gaze
From the rising of the sun to its going down
His name shall be praised forever
His glory is high above the heavens
And His praise shall not end, no never
Who is like unto the Lord our God
He is glorious in majesty
He shall come victoriously in the sky above
And surely every eye shall see
That He rides upon a horse with a crown on His head
And a two-edged sword in His hand
He rides victoriously, this Lion of Judah
He rides all across the land.
poem by Frank McEleny
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He Is Worthy
From this time forth and forevermore
Our Lord is worthy of all praise
Blessed be the name of Christ our King
Into His holiness we all shall gaze
From the rising of the sun to its going down
His name shall be praised forever
His glory is high above the heavens
And His praise shall not end, no never
Who is like unto the Lord our God
He is glorious in majesty
He shall come victoriously in the sky above
And surely every eye shall see
That He rides upon a horse with a crown on His head
And a two-edged sword in His hand
He rides victoriously, this Lion of Judah
He rides all across the land.
poem by Frank McEleny
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beauty Of A Friend
Walking on the tiny tan rocks of the sand. Looking for my brown soft horse. Running to my brown soft horse. Leaping on the back of the brown horse. Holding tight while my horse rides. Throwed the tan sand. The ocean breeze flows through my redish brownish hair. Comming closer to the forrest. I leaped off my horse. Walking close to my horse. While we enter the forrest. Moving my hand out touching the rough brown branches of the trees. Walking around the forrest. Getting losted. I'm alone sitting on the dirt. Tears falling from my face.
poem by Christina Weinke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Give Way
I know a man from Lancashire
who had a horse and cart for hire.
The horse was old but the cart is strong,
somehow together they didn't belong.
When they became one there was a change,
Ears went up, whip in the tail, snap the riegns.
They came to a bridge, it looked a little weak
As they crossed, it hobbled, tapped and creaked.
The wooden bridge was small and norrow
not to long, but only room for one to pass.
Towards them flapped a little brown sparrow,
horse thinks, no way he's makin me into an ass.
The old horse snorted and put his head down,
nothing would stop them getting to town.
Said the horse: ' no one's gettin in my way'
Then the little sparrow flew up, got out the way.
Hovering above watching everything,
just like a slow motion scene.
The sparrow saw the horse
fly through the trucks screen.
P.S. We used a proffessional stunt horse, he is Ok.
poem by David Darbyshire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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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
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In His Shack
Seasonal sea breeze peeps
through the broken windows.
The old sailor rests on a hammock
and the torn World map on the wall
some countries washed out.
The seafarer rides a hobby horse
which belongs to his grand son.
A distant ship brings him a tear
with a ripple and he knows the rickety soul
cannot stand for the coming new year.
His sorrow is heavier than the mysterious life
and he thinks which he sees the last sunset.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Upon The Horse and His Rider
There's one rides very sagely on the road,
Showing that he affects the gravest mode.
Another rides tantivy, or full trot,
To show much gravity he matters not.
Lo, here comes one amain, he rides full speed,
Hedge, ditch, nor miry bog, he doth not heed.
One claws it up-hill without stop or check,
Another down as if he'd break his neck.
Now every horse has his especial guider;
Then by his going you may know the rider.
Comparison.
Now let us turn our horse into a man,
His rider to a spirit, if we can.
Then let us, by the methods of the guider,
Tell every horse how he should know his rider.
Some go, as men, direct in a right way,
Nor are they suffered to go astray;
As with a bridle they are governed,
And kept from paths which lead unto the dead.
Now this good man has his especial guider,
Then by his going let him know his rider.
Some go as if they did not greatly care,
Whether of heaven or hell they should be heir.
The rein, it seems, is laid upon their neck,
They seem to go their way without a check.
Now this man too has his especial guider,
And by his going he may know his rider.
Some again run as if resolved to die,
Body and soul, to all eternity.
Good counsel they by no means can abide;
They'll have their course whatever them betide.
Now these poor men have their especial guider,
Were they not fools they soon might know their rider.
There's one makes head against all godliness,
Those too, that do profess it, he'll distress;
He'll taunt and flout if goodness doth appear,
And at its countenancers mock and jeer.
Now this man, too, has his especial guider,
And by his going he might know his rider.
poem by John Bunyan
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Youth and Age
Youth that rides the wildest horse,
Youth that throws the deadliest steer,
Spending strength without remorse,
Grappling with the ghosts of fear,
Knows it only holds to-day
All it freely flings away.
Youth that rides a race with Death
When the frightened cattle break,
Living in the moment’s breath,
Risking all for honour’s sake,
Lightly knows it holds in fee
Life and immortality.
Age that rides the spavined grey,
Age that seeks the safest track,
Scenting perils by the way,
Dreaming of the journey back,
Leaves behind it all the truth
Known to the wild heart of youth.
poem by Vance Palmer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Black Horse Rider
For George Anthell
Between them is the land of broken colors,
the land that makes a mock of him
with miles.
He rides, he rides,
he passes through the flat
chrome wheatfields
cut by the plough of the river makers.
The hills are aslant,
the clay torsos, the hills,
the clay has a red wound,
it gapes.
The white roots cry,
there is a mute susurrus in the dark:
poppies, poppies are you not
their pain?
With hoof on flint and flint
the black horse
rides: black wind, black
against fire.
The black horse crooks his
forelegs, the hills split open,
his nostrils pour flame.
Snort, snort through miles,
O charger, through rock.
He drinks the mezas,
he burns his thin knees over
braziers of grass:
Ride, ride.
Sky is spilt water,
a silver hello is flung
from star to star.
Black horse breaks
fire underfoot and now
his mane is a burnt city,
his mouth churned ocean,
foam on his belly a constellation.
At last he tramples
the sand
behemoth
Asleep before the sea.
poem by Pierre Loving
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Horseman of Conquest
He rides the fields triumphant, in armor plated gold
His horse a great white stallion, it's rider ever bold
He is the Horseman Conquest, for power does he lust
He cares not for honor, goodness, or even being just
He cares rides to war for power, to make the world his own
He dreams only of riches, a jewel encrusted throne
His sword is swift and mighty, though corrupt his soul may be
He commands a mighty army, who obey every decree
He dreams only for power, rides to war for gold
He rules from an ivory tower, where he keeps fortunes untold
The mighty King of Conquest, the Horsemen filled with greed
In golden plated armor, he rides his mighty steed
He fights for gold and plunder, he wields a mighty sword
He rides to war for power, backed by his mighty hoard
Every king of every nation, must bow before his throne
He will never stop, until the world is all his own
poem by Tim Vallie
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Mother and sphinx
(EGYPTIAN FOLK-SONG)
Grim is the face that looks into the night
Over the stretch of sands;
A sullen rock in a sea of white--
A ghostly shadow in ghostly light,
Peering and moaning it stands.
"Oh, is it the king that rides this way--
Oh, is it the king that rides so free?
I have looked for the king this many a day,
But the years that mock me will not say
Why tarrieth he!"
'T is not your king that shall ride to-night,
But a child that is fast asleep;
And the horse he shall ride is the Dream-horse white--
Aha, he shall speed through the ghostly light
Where the ghostly shadows creep!
"My eyes are dull and my face is sere,
Yet unto the word he gave I cling,
For he was a Pharaoh that set me here--
And, lo! I have waited this many a year
For him--my king!"
Oh, past thy face my darling shall ride
Swift as the burning winds that bear
The sand clouds over the desert wide--
Swift to the verdure and palms beside
The wells off there!
"And is it the mighty king I shall see
Come riding into the night?
Oh, is it the king come back to me--
Proudly and fiercely rideth he,
With centuries dight!"
I know no king but my dark-eyed dear
That shall ride the Dream-Horse white;
But see! he wakes at my bosom here,
While the Dream-Horse frettingly lingers near
To speed with my babe to-night!
And out of the desert darkness peers
A ghostly, ghastly, shadowy thing
Like a spirit come out of the mouldering years,
And ever that waiting spectre hears
The coming king!
poem by Eugene Field
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Too Far Away To See
I set out on my horse- it was the
Best thing I could do-
We galloped to the sea- it was the only
Thing I could do,
And we drowned beneath the windmills
For her-
My horse and I, as my father watched,
But the stars were too far away to see.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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