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Cobblestone has propensity
to be snared-up by rusted horseshoes.
You can hear the pain of the clydesdale
by the sharp, scraping sound
from each hoof as it slaps at the stone
bending awkwardly at the knee,
with each stride.
Yet no one really notices, that is-
except for the other horse,
juxtapositioned and suffering
quite equally with its partner.
Such goes the proverbial caisson
rolling with the likes of
Garfield, Coolidge and Hayes,
of presidential privlege,
passing their homegrounds
for the very last time,
as tradition and respect demanded,
before the New Deal, FDR...
and the age of smooth blacktop
when horses could not manage
the bumps, breaks and hills
that forced those awkward knee-bends,
to forge in painful stride
when called upon...to lead a cortege.

poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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25 Miles

Twenty-five miles from home, girl
My feet are hurtin mighty bad
Now Ive been walkin for three days
And two lonely nights
You know that Im mighty bad
But I got a girl waitin for me
Thats gonna make this trip worthwhile
You see, shes got the kind
Of lovin and kissin
Make a boy go stone wild
I got to keep on walkin
Oh I got to walk on
Let me tell you, yall
Im so tired
But I just cant lose my stride
I got fifteen miles to go now
And I can hear my baby callin my name
Its as if, as though
Im standin at her front door
And I can hear that doggone thing
Now Ill be so glad to see my baby
And hold her in my arms one more time
And when I kiss her lips
I turn backward flip
And I forget about these feet of mine
I got to keep on walkin
Oh I got to walk on
Let me tell you, yall
Im so tired
But I just cant lose my stride
Yeah I got to walk on
Let me tell you, yall
Hope my feet dont fail me now
I got five more miles to go
I got nine, eight, seven
Six, oh six
I got five more miles to go now
Over the hills just around the bend
Although my feet are tired
I cant lose my stride
I got to get my baby back again
I got to keep on walkin
I got to walk on
Let me tell yall
Im so tired now
But I just cant lose my stride
Oh, I got to walk on
Let me tell you now
Im so tired
But I just cant lose my stride
I got to walk on

song performed by by Michael Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Freedom Version 2

To be free from the pain, suffering, crying, going through hell my pain has caused, no more pain meds to have the memories erased of me telling my friends i have knee pain and them not believing me erased and them never knowing i had pain put in its place and being renewed into a new body where i have no knee pain but i can only dream cause i know this will never happen and wishing i was free from it all

poem by Karate Girl
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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White Clydesdale horse

That big white horse he stands so high
And coat so white it hurts my eyes
A Clydesdale horse is the breed
Stand so proud does this stead

For weeks I just wondered why
He shows himself in my minds eye
I tell my friends what I see
It’s my granddad looking after me

A carter by trade was his game
And Clydesdale horses pulled the frame
For miles and miles through Scottish Land
My granddad went cap in hand

It nice to know he stands by me
As proud as the horse I can see
To give me strength both night and day
And guide me along the way

Chellaston
01 11 2010

poem by Jim O'Donnell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Child's Play' by Talile Ali

running around and scraping a knee
crying and yelling and wanting to see
trying to know what it is to just think
picking up something lacquatious to drink
dancing on climbers and singing of snails
playing with sticks that may conceal some nails
tossing 'round stones just as if they were balls
rolling down hills and pretending to fall
life is a mystery awaiting each day
filled to the brim with the myth's of
child's play

poem by Talile Ali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There once was a maître d'
who had hurt during prayer his knee.
When no doctor could cure it
he was forced to endure it.
Now he's using the other knee.

quote by by Herbert Nehrlich
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Step In Stride

I think you might like to hear something from us
Stand up
Put your hands up
Come on get up
Kid rocks in the house yo, ready to pick up
The tempo and you know so I will fo somewhat unconventional
But comprehendible
Im the presentable good lookin
The mello yellow young fellow and Im cookin
Heatin the house up just like a hot late
Smooth on the groove like an ice skate
You didnt think in a blink Id stnd here
Now your in fear and stand clear
You cant come near this hot sylin
Groove by the kid whos smooth as a violin
Aso the perfect lyric announcer
On the set with a cold forty ouncer
Ready to glide from sid to side
Why, cuz I step in stride
These are the criteria I believe should be applied
Cuz I step in stride
These are the criteria I believe should be applied
N-nnow yes Im new
But before Im threw
Your gonna see I paddle my own canoe
Cuz Im solo
A young pro on the go
Close to an angel
But I wear no halo
I just shake, create, and never act fake
And I learned to dislike and not hate
Because hatred leads to an uproar
Violence is on thing I am not here for
Im just here flat out
And to blow the roof
Kick some watts and thats what I inted to do
Pump it up like an air comb presser
Teach to each like a wise professor
No job I strive to reach high
Make the girls in the house all sigh
And Ill glide from side to side
Why, cuz I step in stride
These are the criteria I believe should be applied
Cuz I step in stride
These are the criteria I believe should be applied
Appied, step in stride you bet I do
Get you hig like a bottle of german brew
Comin clean
New on the scene
Makin girls scream
I you know what I mean
Cuz they dream ofme to rock the place
And put a big smile upon their face
Any girl of any race
But they have to like the b-b-bass
And thats the rep Ive earned and kept on te set
Workin up a sweat
No jive kid rock uprrivd
And I step in stride
These are the criteria I believe should be applied
Cuz I step in stride
These are the criteria I believe should be applied

song performed by by Kid Rock
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Barrel Race

Unloading from the trailer,
you wonder how the day will end.

Will you bring money? Will you place? Will You even participate?

You WILL ride, your horse is ready and confident, your name is called to the allyway, the horse takes off!

No time to be nervous, the first barrel arrived
RIGHT TURN!
The horse blasts off toward the second barrel
LEFT TURN!
The top third barrel is getting closer with every stride and before you know it
LEFT TURN!
Now you're heading home looking up at your time!
You pass the lazer......15 seconds taking home the prize.

poem by Horse Lover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Of Horses And Flies

A fly had ventured from his nest
and flew (of course) then came to rest
upon the tailbone of a horse.
And with considerable force
he pushed his stinger through the hide
which promptly ended up inside.
The horse, whose tolerance of pain
was governed by an oblong brain,
a horse, that much is widely known
is born without a funny bone
It follows that a horse may cry
when bitten by a nasty fly.
The fly, whose cousins own the dunny
inflicts his germs and thinks it funny
when bits of half-digested dung
infect the spot where he has stung.
Though in the case of any horse
it matters little since, of course
a horse makes, on command, vaccine
which brings resistance to the scene.
Thus horses won't, upon reflection,
pick up a Coliform infection,
which pleases me (you may ask why)
but tell me, why the horse would cry!
A horse will cry at times, of course
due to the fly's lack of remorse.
Which does intensify the pain
I hope I've made this subject plain.
Since stings make horses jump and wince
you'll never see a horse that grins.
You may consider this quite silly
but think about it, as a filly
a horse soon meets the dreaded fly
he suffers, as the years go by
and stores the thought inside his head
that flies would better off be dead.
And if, the Gods in the hereafter
outlawed all flies we'd hear the laughter
of horses just as now and then
a nicker sound comes from the pen.
This is a soft and pleasant sound
containing vowels that are round.
But if you hear them whinny-ing
you know they're thinking of the sting
and of the time when God will boil
all flies in holy Hyssop oil.
All mammals then will celebrate
the new and blessed stingless state
and will, in gratitude endorse
the king of critters, yes the horse.

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dairy Queen

I heard that you were drunk and mean
Down at the dairy queen
There's just enough of you in me
For me to have sympathy
And take it in stride
I know I had mine
And you were as kind
I am told
Ain't it funny how we lose one day
And a lifetime
Slips away
I'm looking back on us that way
Something I
Never thought I'd say
I take it in stride
I know I had mine
It was good for a time
I am told
It was good for a time
I am told
The love you gave was not for free
But the price
Was truly fair
I never felt so glad to be
So well spent
So beyond repair
I take it in stride
At least you were mine
If not for all the time
Enough to hold
???
Now take good care that you are true
You said you found it
Hard to do
And find that bit of faith that sets you free
Having everything to prove
You take it in stride
And know you got mine
And it's good for a lifetime
or more
I love you
I love you more and more
Oh I love you more and more

song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Huntsman's Horse

The galloping seasons have slackened his pace,
And stone wall and timber have battered his knees
It is many a year since he gave up his place
To live out his life in comparative ease.
No more does he stand with his scarlet and white
Like a statue of marble girth deep in the gorse;
No more does he carry the Horn of Delight
That called us to follow the huntsman's old horse.
How many will pass him and not understand,
As he trots down the road going cramped in his stride,
That he once set the pace to the best in the land
Ere they tightened his curb for a lady to ride!
When the music begins and a right one's away,
When hoof-strokes are thudding like drums on the ground,
The old spirit wakes in the worn-looking grey
And the pride of his youth comes to life at a bound.
He leans on the bit and he lays to his speed,
To the winds of the open his stiffness he throws,
And if spirit were all he'd be up with the lead
Where the horse that supplants him so easily goes.
No double can daunt him, no ditch can deceive,
No bank can beguile him to set a foot wrong,
But the years that have passed him no power can retrieve-
To the swift is their swiftness, their strength to the strong!
To the best of us all comes a day and a day
When the pace of the leaders shall leave us forlorn,
So we'll give him a cheer - the old galloping grey -
As he labours along to the lure of the Horn.

poem by William Henry Ogilvie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Looting

You believe in the looting of few,
The voice of love betrays nobody.
If telling and doing is about
Then why do you achieve like a speech?
You are still, and motionless is another,
For both believe in manly affairs.
The stride of a life is the stride of living,
Many dyes of pain, many are in pleasure.
The voices loudly echo when they follow
Other voices, instead whispering is about.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You know the agony

How come you know the agony?
How does the torture affect many?
Undergo the suffering and you may have feeling
The spirit and resolve keeps you live and not killing

The toothache may make you restless
The painful night may be reflected on face
Peace of mind is affected largely to get rid off
You may be prevented from offering a forced laugh

It is better to be lost in crowd
Let your voice be heard very loud
It may have enough of strength and weight
You are in time on scene and never late

Some of pains are really unbearable
They may send you down and crumble
You are down with so much helplessness
It is known but difficult to come out of duress

It is said and believed that one must under go the same
You may exactly be in position and state where from it came
It may be troubling to all but never actually took place
The worry lines are reflected and clearly seen on the face

No one likes slight pain or discomfort
No one may voluntarily go for or opt
It comes in regular course and dealt with
Person is bending with cry and closing the teeth

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Getting A Horse

So here I am
15 and over weight
not especially pretty
but not bad;
but invisible
and I hide in gym
and the looks I get
keep me in my place.

I try for friends
but the other outcasts
like me
don't seem to want to
draw attention;
can't talk to anyone,
teachers think I'm dull
I talk to my pillow
only my cat understands me

And, of course,
I don't have a boy friend.

She:
'Ok, let go through all of this.
What do you think comes first.
Why don't you pretend that you are your best friend
What would you tell you best friend to do? '

Daughter:

'I don't know.
I would tell her to think about what she can do
or what she really likes.'
'And that is? '
'Horses'
'Horses'.
'I didn't know you liked horses.'
'They are neat.'
'Ok tell your friend what to do about liking horses.
What does she want to do? '
'She wants a horse.'
'Wants a horse
To get a horse what does she needs to do.'
'Get some money.'
'Well how? '
'Maybe babysitting? '
'Sure tell your friend I have someone who needs babysitting
and she can do it to make money.'
'So I did, took a year,
but I got my horse.
some friends along the way
and a boyfriend.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Stride

A stride balances with might, soothing the air and speech,
Like magic being played for the violin and player;
Musical remedies surprise that decision of footing
As feet wear the shoes of description.
My name is spelt with my stride as a putting on of air,
The same story tells itself of light air and breezes
To quell the misery and disgust we find ourselves in.
To stride is to expound and not be anxious,
Like philosophy and the dragon put together.
May walking and looking become habits
For the repetition of moves, the reasonable shoes.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Riding Lessons

God gives me riding lessons
When I go to sleep each night.

Just can't get the hang of it,
Try as I might.

In my dreams,
The horse has either
bucked me off,
Or I ride gracefully,
And never stop.

It is always in a corral,
or by the sea that I ride.

I see the waves,
And the gulls.
I can smell the saltiness.

I see the fence,
And smell the earth,
As I ride my horse.

I'm slowly slipping,
Yet holding on.

His rythmic stride flows on,
And never breaks.

Suddenly, his sride does break.

It is then that I relize,
That I am now awake.

I try rolling over,
To enter my dream again.

Just can't fall asleep,
I must get up instead.

Oh, to be
In that luxury,
Of my nightly
Ride!

Such a joy!
What a feeling!
That surges through me
Each night.

Meanwhile,
I'll carry on,
All throughout the day,
Until it is night again.

When I fall asleep
And dream,
It is then-

That my riding lessons,
Shall truly begin!

poem by Macy Dvirnak
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On The Death Of Peter Hayes

You won't find any life around where his remains will lay
And words of praise won't bring him back his soul has gone away
And though he died young at fifty one suppose he had his day
And for flying in fast planes you might say there is a price to pay.

This morning I heard in the news how Peter Hayes did die
The light plane he and his mate David Noble were in just dropped out of the sky
Near Mildura in Victoria their end came suddenly
A cruel blow to the Horse Racing World and the Hayes family.

A brother to Hong Kong's leading trainer David and the late Colin Hayes eldest son
So much success in horse racing the Hayes family have won
Peter was Victoria's and South Australia's leading trainer and his passing leaves a void
In Horse Racing a household name he was known far and wide.

The Horse Racing World is in shock at the news of the death of Peter Hayes
And though the horse racing writers write the eulogies and heap upon him praise
You won't find any signs of life where his remains will lay
A shy and unconceited man his soul has gone away.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Picasso's Skull Caps Occupied Horses Falling

events blasts centre stages frog marches
occupied horses falling in countless agonies
run through spear javelin bayonet thrusts

large gaping torn wounds realities cruelties
horse's sides life bleeds potent swift years
devoured bull dictators devour ripe bellies

view human skull death brews demon changes
overlays victim horse's body escape crushed kneels
gore fleet horse freedom underneath deceptions

bull's horns gore tossed rent sacrifices flesh forms blood rivers
break escape equestrian front facing legs sanctuary sought shelters
seeks knee blood ground knee in groin leg's knee wobble forms

skull caps counting coup taken head's nose concussion bleeds
horn appears within horse's breast to savage despair steal souls
bull's tail forms images flame worship incendiary burning bombs

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Ballad Maker

ONCE I loved a maiden fair,
Over the hills and jar away,
Lands she had and lovers to spare,
Over the hills and far away.
And I was stooped and troubled sore,
And my face was pale, and the coat I wore
Was thin as my supper the night before
Over the hills and far away.

Once I passed in the Autumn late,
Over the hills and jar away,
Her bawn and barn and painted gate,
Over the hills and jar away.
She was leaning there in the twilight space,
Sweet sorrow was on her fair young face,
And her wistful eyes were away from the place,
Over the hills and jar away.

Maybe she thought as she watched me come,
Over the hills and jar away,
With my awkward stride and my face so glum,
Over the hills and jar away.
Spite of his stoop, he still is young,
They say he goes the Shee among,
Ballads he makes; I've heard them sung
Over the hills and jar away.

She gave me good-night in gentle wise,
Over the hills and jar away,
Shyly lifting to mine, dark eyes,
Over the hills and jar away.
What could I do but stop and speak,
And she no longer proud, but meek?
She plucked me a rose like her wild-rose cheek-
Over the hills and jar away.

To-morrow Mavourneen a sleeveen weds,
Over the hills and jar away,
With corn in haggard and cattle in sheds,
Over the hills and jar away.
And I who have lost her, the dear, the rare-
Well, I got me this ballad to sing at the fair,
Twill bring enough money to drown my care,
Over the hills and jar away.

poem by Padraic Colum
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Horse Play

Four gallant horses
galloped forth.

One was white, one was black,
one was red, one was brown.

One had four legs,
one had three,
one had two,
and the fourth had one leg.

The one-legged horse
said to the others :
the time for dance has come,
sweet friends,
let's dance on a single hoof !

All of them liked the idea,
and the dance began.
The four-legged horse fainted outright,
the three-legged horse slipped and fell,
the two-legged horse limped to a fall :
only the one-legged one
danced on and on.

poem by Ayyappa Paniker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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En.Citatepedia^®.ro

C o r t e g e...

Related quotes

The Perfect Partner

25 Miles

Freedom Version 2

White Clydesdale horse

Child's Play' by Talile Ali

Step In Stride

The Barrel Race

Of Horses And Flies

Dairy Queen

The Huntsman's Horse

Looting

You know the agony

Getting A Horse

A Stride

Riding Lessons

On The Death Of Peter Hayes

Picasso's Skull Caps Occupied Horses Falling

A Ballad Maker

Horse Play

En.Citatepedia®.ro

C o r t e g e...

Related quotes

The Perfect Partner

25 Miles

Freedom Version 2

White Clydesdale horse

Child's Play' by Talile Ali

Step In Stride

The Barrel Race

Of Horses And Flies

Dairy Queen

The Huntsman's Horse

Looting

You know the agony

Getting A Horse

A Stride

Riding Lessons

On The Death Of Peter Hayes

Picasso's Skull Caps Occupied Horses Falling

A Ballad Maker

Horse Play

En.Citatepedia^®.ro