Being born in a stable does not make one a horse.
quote by Arthur Wellesley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
The man who is born in a stable is not a horse.
Corn Medicine
'A well-bred horse! but he won't get fat,
Though I've done the best 1 can;
He keeps as poor as a blessed rat!'
Said the sorrowful stable-man.
'I've bled and I've blistered him-and to-day
I bought him a monster ball;
But, blow the horse! let me do what 1 may,
He won't get fat at all.
'I've given him medicines galore,
And linseed oil and bran,
And yet the brute looks awfully poor,'
Said the woebegone stable-man.
One glance the intelligent stranger threw
At the ribs of the hollow weed,
Then asked, with an innocent air, 'Did you
Forget to give him a feed?'
poem by Harry 'Breaker' Harbord Morant
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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Sonnet: Piggy-back Ride
Yes, children enjoy a piggy-back ride!
The father as horse and mother beside;
The thrilled little ones just simply enjoy,
And mock at the horse while laughing with joy.
Giddap! Giddap! They goad the horse faster;
Today, they are the jockey and the master!
And then the horse must dance well to their tune,
Slowly, gracefully and speed up too, soon.
Sometimes, the horse is just compelled to neigh!
Shaking its head for the entire day;
No doubt, the act gets troublesome indeed;
Until taken to the ‘stable’ to feed.
At times, children can the wildest horse tame!
But, condescension’s, the key to the game.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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The Lesson From The Horse Race
There's no such thing as gallant loser and there's no glory in defeat
And coming first is all that matter and victory is always sweet
For the winning horse and jockey there's a mighty hip hooray
And the jockey he is smiling victory has made his day.
The stable lad leads in his winner he has never known such joy
And the owner pats his race horse as if to say well done me boy
And there's applause for the winning trainer from the large onlooking crowd
And the horse is centre of attention and those who backed him clapping loud.
Near by stands the beaten favourite held there by his stable lad
And with no trace of the horse's owner and the trainer looking sad
In a thrilling photo finish beaten into second place
But he get little recognition for running such a splendid race.
Human life is like the horse race at winning post you've got to lead
Losers are quickly forgotten and to be loved you must succeed
You must strive hard for your glory and if you fail in your vital test
You too will be quick forgotten as winners are remembered best
And there's a lesson from the horse race and it read plain for all to see
If you live for admiration go for outright victory
And you will be the main attraction and all the applause will be for you
And like the poor defeated race horse there will be none for number two.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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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Robert The Horse
Robert the horse you are a very old horse
You owner feeds you every day
Carrots and apples
You love carrots and apples
Rober the horse
It is too cold to go out
And if you go out you might even die
Robert the hore
It is better for you to stay in your stable
That is in the basement of a house
poem by Aldo Kraas
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You're better off betting on a horse than betting on a man. A horse may not be able to hold you tight, but he doesn't wanna wander from the stable at night.
quote by Betty Grable
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Constipated hostler and the homebred woman
Sometimes he sleeps in the stable
And wakes up to gadflies' hubbub.
Scarcely a woman waits for him
At the Pub to secure his wallet.
He neighs like a horse after two gulps of cheap liquor
And she plucks the gray hair from his beehive like beard.
After sometimes both of them groan
And the Platonic love continues till the rickety stable closed.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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High Horse
Get up on your high horse, woman
Get up on your high horse now
And get up on your high horse, woman
I'll make it up to you somehow
Moonlit shadow, she starts a trippin' firelight
Jumpin' the trees lyin' across the right of way
Silvery mornin' it glistens down the valley
But she don't stop 'til we ride the night away
Get up on your high horse, woman
Get up on your high horse now
Get up on your high horse, woman
I'll make it up to you somehow
Blonde braids tangle at the misty break of mornin'
Catchin' light through a dusty window pane
Lost in lust, in denial of the warnin'
She digs her heels in this stallion's flank again
Get up on your high horse, woman
Get up on your high horse now
Get up on your high horse, woman
I'll make it up to you somehow
Get up on your high horse, woman
You paid the price, you get to play
Get up on your high horse, woman
You're gonna ride to the break of day
To the break of day
To the break of day
To the break of day
Get up on your high horse, woman
Get up on your high horse now
Get up on your high horse, woman
I'll make it up to you somehow
Get up on your high horse, woman
You paid the price, you get to play
Get up on your high horse, woman
You're gonna ride to the break of day
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Parable
I read how Quixote in his random ride
Came to a crossing once, and lest he lose
The purity of chance, would not decide
Whither to fare, but wished his horse to choose.
For glory lay wherever turned the fable.
His head was light with pride, his horse's shoes
Were heavy, and he headed for the stable.
poem by Richard Wilbur
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fed 3 Horses
The narrator spoke
'She fed her 3 horses that morning'
Hippophagy...
a tragedy
============
While it is probable that the author meant that she
fed 3 horses in the stable,
horse slaughter occurs at Texas slaughterhouses
and the horse pieces are sent to France and other
hippophagous countries
poem by O. Anna Niemus
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Christmas
Christmas is that time of year
when friends and family gather round
to raise together a cup of good cheer,
and spreading the word of love around
for everyone to hear.
Christmas is the time we remember
why we celebrate if for
an infant born in a stable under Bethlehem sky
who became the lord of all.
Jesus Christ our lord born humble as we all,
but whose birth is remembered by us all.
He spread love through out his lifetime
and at Christmas; we do the same
through the gifts that we share
and the love that we give.
Christmas is a timely season
to ring out the cheers and celebrations of love
for an infant born in a stable under a Bethlehem sky.
29-30 November 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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His horse's head is too big, it cannot get out of the stable.
Oh! Can it be?
Oh! Can it be? Said the blue bird to the bee,
That you are poking holes in the air is what I do see;
No! Said the bee, It's just my warning alarm to let you know,
Come too close, and you will get the point, that is so.
Oh! Can it be, said the bird to the cat below?
You have such claws, they look to sharp, you know,
Said the cat, to the bluebird on the fence just near,
These claws are sharp, for birds who show no fear;
Oh can it be? Said the cat, to the large bulldog there,
You don't see to want with me your food to share;
Then the dog said to the cat, Touch my bone you'll be cat nip,
Go eat your whiskers, go away, or I will make of you egg flip.
Oh! Can it be? Said the dog, to the large horse in the stable,
Are you a grand racing horse, or is that just a fable?
Neigh, nay, just here to help the farmer to plough,
But; if you get too cheeky, I will kick to the cow.
Oh! Can it be? Said the horse to the cow, near the barn
Is it true, mrs white the lamb, can give a good yarn?
Of course she said, to nick the large horse, it's true,
Mrs White, can certainly give a yarn with a nice dye,
But if you say neigh in stead of yea, I'll know you tell a lie.
The moral of this poem, is do not be a stick beak,
Or someone may be rude ad call you a lousy freak;
And don't go stirring and spreading any rumor,
Or you may have the joke on you, and that's no humor.
poem by Margaret Haig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Before The Paling Of The Stars
Before the winter morn,
Before the earliest cock crow,
Jesus Christ was born:
Born in a stable,
Cradled in a manger,
In the world his hands had made
Born a stranger.
Priest and king lay fast asleep
In Jerusalem;
Young and old lay fast asleep
In crowded Bethlehem;
Saint and angel, ox and ass,
Kept a watch together
Before the Christmas daybreak
In the winter weather.
Jesus on his mother's breast
In the stable cold,
Spotless lamb of God was he,
Shepherd of the fold:
Let us kneel with Mary maid,
With Joseph bent and hoary,
With saint and angel, ox and ass,
To hail the King of Glory.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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The Christmas Number poem.
One Star to shine, over the stable that first Christmas morn,
One Angel Gabriel, gave the message, Jesus would be born;
One stable to stay in, cause there was no room in the inn,
And One new King born, to be our Saviour, to save us from sin.
Two parents to come, give a child a new start,
Two cousins, who found each did love God from the heart;
Two special people, who blessed the new Saviour,
And two baby boys born, for a reason, in Gods favor.
Three wise men, came traveling from the east,
Three gifts to be given, to a new king, our high Priest;
Three sets of people, see the babe in the manger,
And three days journey for the new family in danger.
Four or more, shepherds heard the angel speak, in the sky,
Four or more angels singing, praises, the shepherds did sigh;
Four or more soldiers searching for the new born king,
And four or more reasons why we our praises should sing.
poem by Margaret Haig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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