White Horses
We stare at the rocks and shoreline
As if time itself has fled,
For the sea once lapped at our laughter
When he would go on, ahead;
But the seasons change in the counting
And the laughter fades from the eye,
He went ahead at the parting
Caught up in his own bleak tide.
Your hair turned white in the mourning
Your songs all died in your throat,
Your eyes turned wild, and haunting
As I looked for some antidote;
But age crept up and caught you
In a season of sad neglect,
We sit at the shore in silence
And think of some deep regret.
For the waves roll in like thunder
And the foam now caps the crest
And your wild, white hair blows ever
And your eyes are dim, distressed;
I hold your hand in silence
In hopes that you’ll speak of him,
But you take a breath, and mutter
“White horses are coming in! ”
And over the heads of breakers
Where the foam breaks loose at the rip
I fancy the manes of horses
Are tossed at the breaker’s tip;
And shoulders pound at the rollers
While hooves flash white in the tide
And your dim grey eyes reflect them,
As you cry at their foam-flecked ride.
White horses, caught at the breakers
With manes of wild, white hair
They run at the shallow waters
In the hopes that he’ll be there,
Their eyes are dim at the mourning
As the rollers set them free,
You smile at the heads a-tossing:
“White horses – coming for me.”
28 November 1994
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Related quotes
White Horses
Where run your colts at pasture?
Where hide your mares to breed?
'Mid bergs about the Ice-cap
Or wove Sargasso weed;
By chartless reef and channel,
Or crafty coastwise bars,
But most the ocean-meadows
All purple to the stars!
Who holds the rein upon you?
The latest gale let free.
What meat is in your mangers?
The glut of all the sea.
'Twixt tide and tide's returning
Great store of newly dead, --
The bones of those that faced us,
And the hearts of those that fled.
Afar, off-shore and single,
Some stallion, rearing swift,
Neighs hungry for new fodder,
And calls us to the drift:
Then down the cloven ridges --
A million hooves unshod --
Break forth the mad White Horses
To seek their meat from God!
Girth-deep in hissing water
Our furious vanguard strains --
Through mist of mighty tramplings
Roll up the fore-blown manes --
A hundred leagues to leeward,
Ere yet the deep is stirred,
The groaning rollers carry
The coming of the herd!
Whose hand may grip your nostrils --
Your forelock who may hold?
E'en they that use the broads with us --
The riders bred and bold,
That spy upon our matings,
That rope us where we run --
They know the strong White Horses
From father unto son.
We breathe about their cradles,
We race their babes ashore,
We snuff against their thresholds,
We nuzzle at their door;
By day with stamping squadrons,
By night in whinnying droves,
Creep up the wise White Horses,
To call them from their loves.
And come they for your calling?
No wit of man may save.
They hear the loosed White Horses
Above their fathers' grave;
And, kin of those we crippled,
And, sons of those we slew,
Spur down the wild white riders
To school the herds anew.
What service have ye paid them,
Oh jealous steeds and strong?
Save we that throw their weaklings,
Is none dare work them wrong;
While thick around the homestead
Our snow-backed leaders graze --
A guard behind their plunder,
And a veil before their ways.
With march and countermarchings --
With weight of wheeling hosts --
Stray mob or bands embattled --
We ring the chosen coasts:
And, careless of our clamour
That bids the stranger fly,
At peace with our pickets
The wild white riders lie.
. . . .
Trust ye that curdled hollows --
Trust ye the neighing wind --
Trust ye the moaning groundswell --
Our herds are close behind!
To bray your foeman's armies --
To chill and snap his sword --
Trust ye the wild White Horses,
The Horses of the Lord!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Children Of The Foam
OUT forever and forever,
Where our tresses glint and shiver
On the icy moonlit air;
Come we from a land of gloaming,
Children lost, forever homing,
Never, never reaching there;
Ride we, ride we, ever faster,
Driven by our demon master,
The wild wind in his despair.
Ride we, ride we, ever home,
Wan, white children of the foam.
In the wild October dawning,
When the heaven's angry awning
Leans to lakeward, bleak and drear;
And along the black, wet ledges,
Under icy, caverned edges,
Breaks the lake in maddened fear;
And the woods in shore are moaning;
Then you hear our weird intoning,
Mad, late children of the year;
Ride we, ride we, ever home,
Lost, white children of the foam.
All grey day, the black sky under,
Where the beaches moan and thunder,
Where the breakers spume and comb,
You may hear our riding, riding,
You may hear our voices chiding,
Under glimmer, under gloam;
Like a far-off infant wailing,
You may hear our hailing, hailing,
For the voices of our home;
Ride we, ride we, ever home,
Haunted children of the foam.
And at midnight, when the glimmer
Of the moon grows dank and dimmer,
Then we lift our gleaming eyes;
Then you see our white arms tossing,
Our wan breasts the moon embossing,
Under gloom of lake and skies;
You may hear our mournful chanting,
And our voices haunting, haunting,
Through the night's mad melodies;
Riding, riding, ever home,
Wild, white children of the foam.
There, forever and forever,
Will no demon-hate dissever
Peace and sleep and rest and dream:
There is neither fear nor fret there
When the tired children get there,
Only dews and pallid beam
Fall in gentle peace and sadness
Over long surcease of madness,
From hushed skies that gleam and gleam,
In the longed-for, sought-for home
Of the children of the foam.
There the streets are hushed and restful,
And of dreams is every breast full,
With the sleep that tired eyes wear;
There the city hath long quiet
From the madness and the riot,
From the failing hearts of care;
Balm of peacefulness ingliding,
Dream we through our riding, riding,
As we homeward, homeward fare;
Riding, riding, ever home,
Wild, white children of the foam.
Under pallid moonlight beaming,
Under stars of midnight gleaming,
And the ebon arch of night;
Round the rosy edge of morning,
You may hear our distant horning,
You may mark our phantom flight;
Riding, riding, ever faster,
Driven by our demon master,
Under darkness, under light;
Ride we, ride we, ever home,
Wild, white children of the foam.
poem by William Wilfred Campbell
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He Bids His Beloved Be At Peace
I HEAR the Shadowy Horses, their long manes a-shake,
Their hoofs heavy with tumult, their eyes glimmering white;
The North unfolds above them clinging, creeping night,
The East her hidden joy before the morning break,
The West weeps in pale dew and sighs passing away,
The South is pouring down roses of crimson fire:
O vanity of Sleep, Hope, Dream, endless Desire,
The Horses of Disaster plunge in the heavy clay:
Beloved, let your eyes half close, and your heart beat
Over my heart, and your hair fall over my breast,
Drowning love's lonely hour in deep twilight of rest,
And hiding their tossing manes and their tumultuous feet.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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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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The Wild Horses And The Snow
last night the horses were there again
black, brown, white, gray horses, spotted ones
on their furious breaths they ran wildly on the
white snow
white as the fleece of a lamb
the feathers of the parakeet
the hair of the albino hamster
they are making the sounds of freedom
exploring the distance of distances
roaming the earth
and the mountains and the plains
all in my head.
subconscious desires waiting for the Freudian
explanations.
as usual.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Gallop of Fire
When the north wind moans thro' the blind creek courses
And revels with harsh, hot sand,
I loose the horses, the wild red horses,
I loose the horses, the mad, red horses,
And terror is on the land.
With prophetic murmer the hills are humming,
The forest-kings bend and blow;
With hoofs of brass on the baked earth strumming,
O brave red horses, they hear us coming,
And the legions of death lean low.
O'er the wooded height, and the sandy hollow
Where the boles to the axe have rung,
Tho' they fly the foreman as flies the swallow,
The fierce red horses, my horses, follow
With flanks to the faint earth flung.
Or with frenzied hieroglyphs, fear embossing
Night's sable horizon bars,
Thro' tangled mazes of death-darts crossing,
I swing my leaders and watch them tossing
Their red manes against the stars.
But when South winds sob in the drowned creek courses
And whisper to hard wet sand,
I hold the horses, the spent red horses,
I hold the horses, the tired red horses,
And silence is on the land.
Yea, the South wind sobs among the drowned creek courses
For sorrows no man shall bind---
Ah, God! For the horses, the black plumed horses,
Dear God! For the horses, Death's own pale horses,
That raced in the tracks behind.
poem by Marie E J Pitt
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White Hat White Coat
To the late doug whalan.... from your daughter.....
White hat white coat and greying in hair
he would dance around the dance floor with plenty of flair
White hat white coat black pants to boot
the men would all say 'silly old coot'
Whitehat white coat and a big friendly smile
when he went to a dance he'd dress in style
White hat white coat and a beat in his feet
it's of to the dance and people to meet
White hat white coat and a scotch on the rocks he'd love to dance
and the men would all mock
White hat white coat asleep at the wheel
he's danced all night 'boy i know how he feels'
White hat white coat have been put to the test
it's time to go home for a well earned rest
White hat white coat clean shirt and socks too
he's all geard up and ready for round two
White hat white coat so tired and run down
close your eyes and dream of your nights on the town
White hat white coat you've seen better days
your torn around the edges and your starting to fray
White hat white coat the time's come for us to part
but always remember ' i love you with all my heart '
poem by Debbie Gregory
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The Horses of Achilles
When they saw Patroklos dead
—so brave and strong, so young—
the horses of Achilles began to weep;
their immortal nature was upset deeply
by this work of death they had to look at.
They reared their heads, tossed their long manes,
beat the ground with their hooves, and mourned
Patroklos, seeing him lifeless, destroyed,
now mere flesh only, his spirit gone,
defenseless, without breath,
turned back from life to the great Nothingness.
Zeus saw the tears of those immortal horses and felt sorry.
"At the wedding of Peleus," he said,
"I should not have acted so thoughtlessly.
Better if we hadn't given you as a gift,
my unhappy horses. What business did you have down there,
among pathetic human beings, the toys of fate.
You are free of death, you will not get old,
yet ephemeral disasters torment you.
Men have caught you up in their misery."
But it was for the eternal disaster of death
that those two gallant horses shed their tears.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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The Wild Wild Sea
I saw it again this evening,
Black sail in a pale yellow sky
And just as before in a moment,
It was gone where the grey gulls fly
If it should happen again I shall worry
That only a strange ship could fly
And my sanity scans the horizon
In the light of a darkening sky
That night as I walked in my slumber
I walked into the sea strand
And I swam with the moon and her lover
Until I lost sight of the land
I swam till the night became morning
Black sea in the reddening sky
Found myself on the deck on a rolling ship
So far where no grey gulls fly
All around me was silence
As if mocking my frail human hopes
And a question mark hung in the canvas
For the wind that had died in the ropes
I may have slept for an hour
I may have slept for a day
For a woke in a bed of white linen
And the sky was the colour of clay
At first just a rustle of canvas
And the gentlest breath on my face
But a galloping line of white horses
Said that soon we were in for a race
The gentle sigh turned to a howling
And the grey sky she angered to black
And my anxious eyes searched the horizon
With the gathering sea at my back
Did I see the shade of a sailor
On the bridge through the wheelhouse pane
Held fast to the wheel of the rocking ship
As I squinted my eyes in the rain
For the ship had turned into the wind
Against the storm to brace
And underneath the sailors hat
I saw my fathers face
If a prayer today is spoken
Please offer it for me
When the bridge to heaven is broken
And youve lost on the wild wild sea
Lost on the wild wild sea...
song performed by by Sting
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 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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White Comedy
I waz whitemailed
By a white witch,
Wid white magic
An white lies,
Branded by a white sheep
I slaved as a whitesmith
Near a white spot
Where I suffered whitewater fever.
Whitelisted as a whiteleg
I waz in de white book
As a master of white art,
It waz like white death.
People called me white jack
Some hailed me as a white wog,
So I joined de white watch
Trained as a white guard
Lived off the white economy.
Caught and beaten by de whiteshirts
I waz condemned to a white mass,
Don't worry,
I shall be writing to de Black House.
poem by Benjamin Zephaniah
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The Muse Of Life
Black and white horses,
Black and white cows,
All that muses is about life;
Cos', the wind blows to where it is directed.
Brown and white horses,
Brown and white cows,
The muse of life teaches us many tricks;
But, i've got rain and sunshine to crown the day.
The muse of a moose,
The bloom of a flower,
The blues of mankind to take the pieces;
The muse of life teaches many.
'The dish washer is not in the Bible'! !
Shouted the lone-ranger in need of love;
But, all that muses is about life.
Of cows and horses,
Of men and women,
Of Black and White Race to fill the earth;
Yes, all that muses is about life.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Mourning in Andalusia
If white is the colour
of mourning in Andalusia,
it is a proper custom.
Look at me,
I dress myself in the white
of white hair
in mourning for youth.
poem by Abu l-Hasan al-Husri
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Wild Horses
Childhood living
Is easy to do
The things you wanted
Well I bought them for you
And graceless lady
You know who I am
You know I cant let you
Ah slide through my hands
Wild horses
Couldnt drag me away
Wild, wild horses
Couldnt drag me away
I watched you suffer
A dull aching pain
Now youve decided
To show me the same
No sweeping exits
Or offstage lines
Can make me feel bitter
Or treat you unkind
Wild horses
Couldnt drag me away
Wild, wild horses
Couldnt drag me away
I know I dreamed you
A sin and a lie
I have my freedom
But I dont have much time
Faith has been broken
Tears must be cried
Come on lets do some living
After we die
Wild horses
Couldnt drag me away
Wild, wild horses
Well ride them someday
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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THE JUMPING HORSES OF THE CARNIVAL (edited, my eyes are failing me)
Do you still remember
the jumping horses of the carnival
when we were yet small?
Do you remember sometime
in July of 1968?
The horses were made of tin
in different colors,
practically all other colors
which were impossible for real horses
that we knew of
black, gray, white, brown, spotted
there were pink, yellow green
and rainbow horses
(i hope you remember
that you preferred the black ones)
Those horses did not jump on their own
You bet
A hand held their feet
and when your guess won,
you got
a cheap teddy bear
Those horses move with the music
of the old record player
with a harsh and confused voice
like a desert storm
and there was a Big Man
holding the microphone
Dictating who shall move next
till your number won the prize
of your persistence
i called you stupid &
That was the beginning of my criticism
Turned treatise of Reason
Now, i am going back there to obtain more data
Perhaps, i shall then be
Enlightened in black and white, perhaps,
i am not sure anymore
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Snow Like Horses
The world is filling up with snow.
Blowing and sticking
To everything
And hoofprints appear
Pounding the ground hard and icy
Howling wind
Like whinnying horses
Tossing their heads
Snow like hair
Grooming
Snow like hair like Kelly
The world is filling up with snow
And her eyes are my light
When even she can't see
She is a rock
No one can weather
Bigger
Stronger
Protection
Go ne.
And the world went white with snow.
poem by Tsunami HiroshiSu
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Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
As in a sack some thing washed in:
And lay amidst the shells
And pebbles of the shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
The sea-waves washed her in
One eye was closed the other open
And on her golden hair
Were drops of red:
Wild lapped the sea-waves and the cloud
Frowned on the sea-shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
How many winters rude have skimmed
Their frozen fingers on the white breast
Of the pale moon-lit lake a-dreaming sound
How many a Spring of green
Has come and gone:
Since that ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
The sea-waves washed her in
Her clothes that rich were tattered were
Unseemly with the smoke of cigars
And the drunk smell of alcohol
Her look was wild and sad and raw:
Wild lapped the sea-waves and the cloud
Frowned on the sea-shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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Final Door.......
Brown house
Grey smiles
Green green grass
Black shoes
Crystal tears with heart felt whispers
Hugs
Blue sky with cream teeth
Green green grass
(hold that thought)
Glassed water grasped
Taut innards
Flowers brought
White horses
Braided manes
White lilies
Window pane
White carriage
To carry forth
Green green grass
Hold that thought
Passing traffic
Collars grasped
Blurry images
Tend then pass
Crystal tears
Smart black tie
Shake and smile
Avoid the eye
Deep breath enter in
Listen watch
Let them begin
Then stare at the floor
'Bye bye darling'
Open door
poem by Karen Sinclair
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The white rose and the red rose
The white rose and the red rose,
So sisters two were named, yes, named.
The white one was so quiet,
The red one laughed and flamed.
But different was their doing, yes,
When came the time of wooing, yes.
The white one turned so red, so red,
The red one turned so white.
For him the red one favored,
Him father would not bless, not bless.
But him the white one favored,
He got at once his 'Yes.'
The red one now was paling, yes,
With sorrow, psalms, and wailing, yes.
The white one turned so red, so red,
The red one turned so white.
Then father grew so fearful
And had to give his 'Yes,' oh, yes!
With songs and music cheerful
The wedding rang, oh, yes!
And soon sprang children rosen, yes,
In shoes and little hosen, yes.
The red one's, they were white,-and oh,
The white one's, they were red.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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