Custom Made Saddles
I thought you said,
They were avid horse riders?
Why haven't they joined us?
'Who knows?
They mentioned something about,
Having custom made saddles.
And as of yet 'THEY' have not arrived.'
What does that have to do with the horses?
They have saddles already on their backs.
'Who knows?
Maybe they want to impress the horses,
With their abilities.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Galloping Horses
Oh, this is the week when no rhymster may rhyme
On the joy of the bush or the ills of the time,
Nor pour out his soul in delectable rhythm
Of women and wine and the lure they have with 'em,
Nor pen philosophic if foolish discourses,
Because of the fury of galloping horses.
Galloping, galloping thro' the refrain -
The lure and the lilt of it beat on the brain.
Strive as you may for Arcadian Themes,
The silks and the saddles will weave thro' your dreams.
Surging, and urging the visions aside
For a lyrical lay of equestrian pride,
For the roar of the race and the call of the courses,
And galloping, galloping, galloping horses.
This is the week for the apotheosis
Of Horse in his glory, from tail to proboscis.
That curious quadrupled, proud and aloof,
That holds all the land under thrall of his hoof.
All creeds and conditions, all factions and forces,
All, all must give way to the galloping horses.
Galloping, galloping - sinner and saint
March to the metre, releasing restraint.
If it isn't the Cup it's the Oaks or the Steeple
That wraps in its magic the minds of the people.
Whether they seek it for profit or pleasure,
They all, willy-nilly, must dance to the measure.
The mood of the moment in all men endorses
The glamorous game and the galloping horses
Galloping horses - jockeys and courses
They gallop, we gallop with galloping horses.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pony
Im just a bachelor,
Im lookin for a partner
Someone who knows how to ride without even fallin off
Gotta be compatible,
Takes me to my limits
Girl when I break you off,
I promise that you wont wanna get off
(chorus:)
If youre horny, lets do it
Ride it, my pony
My saddles waitin
Come and jump on it
If youre horny, lets do it
Ride it, my pony
My saddles waitin
Come and jump on it
Sittin here flossin, peepin your steelo
Just once if I have the chance, the things I would do to you
You and your body, every single portion
Send chills up and down your spine, juices flowin down your thigh
(chorus 2x)
If youre horny, lets do it
Ride it, my pony
My saddles waitin
Come and jump on it
If youre horny, lets do it
Ride it, my pony
My saddles waitin
Come and jump on it
If were gonna get nasty baby
First well show and tell
Till I reach your pony tail (oh)
Lurk all over and through you baby
Until we reach the stream
Youll be on my jockey team (ooh)
(chorus 2 1/2x)
If youre horny, lets do it
Ride it, my pony
My saddles waitin
Come and jump on it
If youre horny, lets do it
Ride it, my pony
My saddles waitin
Come and jump on it
(fades)
Ride it
song performed by by Ginuwine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Did you ever see an unhappy horse? Did you ever see bird that had the blues? One reason why birds and horses are not unhappy is because they are not trying to impress other birds and horses.
quote by Dale Carnegie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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You can't put two saddles on the same horse.
Among the Red Guns
Among the red guns,
In the hearts of soldiers
Running free blood
In the long, long campaign:
Dreams go on.
Among the leather saddles,
In the heads of soldiers
Heavy in the wracks and kills
Of all straight fighting:
Dreams go on.
Among the hot muzzles,
In the hands of soldiers
Brought from flesh-folds of women--
Soft amid the blood and crying--
In all your hearts and heads
Among the guns and saddles and muzzles:
Dreams,
Dreams go on,
Out of the dead on their backs,
Broken and no use any more:
Dreams of the way and the end go on.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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The horse may wish to do one thing, but he who saddles him another.
He does na aye ride when he saddles his horse.
One thing thinks the horse, and another he that saddles him.
The Horses
The horses
Three horses graze on my land, one is a foal.
In the twilight and with gentle rain falling
they remind me of work horses of by gone
days when I steered the plough that made
furrows in dark, clean soil.
When I stroke their flanks the good aroma
of warm horse arises; dreams are endless.
In daylight they pretend to be boulders, but
even then they make the land serene.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Late Night with Fog and Horses
They were in the living room. Saying their
goodbyes. Loss ringing in their ears.
They'd been through a lot together, but now
they couldn't go another step. Besides, for him
there was someone else. Tears were falling
when a horse stepped out of the fog
into the front yard. Then another, and
another. She went outside and said,
'Where did you come from, you sweet horses?'
and moved in amongst them, weeping,
touching their flanks. The horses began
to graze in the front yard.
He made two calls: one call went straight
to he sheriff - 'someone's horses are out.'
But there was that other call, too.
Then he joined his wife in the front
yard, where they talked and murmured
to the horses together. (Whatever was
happening now was happening in another time.)
Horses cropped the grass in the yard
that night. A red emergency light
flashed as a sedan crept in out of fog.
Voices carried out of the fog.
At the end of that long night,
when they finally put their arms around
each other, their embrace was full of
passion and memory. Each recalled
the other's youth. Now something had ended,
something else rushing in to take its place.
Came the moment of leave-taking itself.
'Goodbye, go on,' she said.
And then pulling away.
Much later,
he remembered making a disastrous phone call.
One that had hung on and hung on,
a malediction. It's boiled down
to that. The rest of his life.
Malediction.
poem by Raymond Clevie Carver
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The Melbourne Cup
I like the riders
Clad in rose and blue;
Their colours glitter
And their horses too.
Swift go the riders
On incarnate speed.
My thought can scarcely
Follow where they lead.
Delicate, strong, long
Lines of colour flow,
And all the people
Tremble as they go.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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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
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He Is A Trier
He once was a man who owned greyhounds going back a few decades ago
But for them he was all the poorer the dogs that he owned were too slow
And now he has shares in a racehorse but for that he's not a wealthier man
The race horse though well bred is quite ordinary as they say one more also ran
With greyhounds and horses he has had it this horse he does swear is his last
Venture in the greyhound or horse racing business these things he will put to his past
Any spare cash he has he'll invest in stocks and bonds with a far greater chance of success
It is due to greyhounds and horses that he is in a financial mess
He has erred twice but never again greyhounds and horses are now in his past
The horse has never run a place the greyhounds just could not run fast
Dabbling in the stock market his newest business venture trading on stocks and shares he will try
Fortune favours the brave some will tell you this time luck him may not deny
But never more greyhounds or horses for his mistakes he has had to pay
But credit him he is a trier and good times for him may not be far away.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Horses And Trains
I love them both…., but the Equine more….,
Power to spare…., so different, so rare….,
Only one can breed…, the other can rust….,
But together they leave us all in the dust.
We can train a horse….,
But we can’t horse a train….,
And a horse can’t hide you from the rain…,
Seems this all sounds so insane….,
Still my heart and soul remains….,
With Horses And Trains.....,
Horses And Trains.
poem by Trade Martin
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The Jumping Horses Of The Carnival
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 are made of tin
in different colors,
practically all other colors
which are impossible for real horses
Those horses did not jump on their own
You bet
and when you guess wins, you get
either a plastic glass or
a cheap teddy bear
Those horses move with the music
of the record player
and there was a Big Man
holding the microphone
Dictating who shall move next
till your number wins
That is the beginning of my criticism.
Now, i am going back there to obtain more data
Perhaps, i shall then be
Enlightened.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Will Makes The Way
He left a will to share his nineteen horses:
A half to his son; a quarter to daughter;
One fifth to his maid. Indivisible;
A wise man was sought, who came on his horse.
He placed his horses with nineteen horses.
Making it to twenty, he did as the will bid.
Ten to son, five to daughter and four to maid.
He took his. If will is there, way will form.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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