Your Hands
Dip your hands into the stream!
The whole sky unwinds throughout,
With tethered horses grazing.
The grass inches across the rocks
Of the whole snow-stream,
The whole town commends me!
The calling of a note
Alarms and dismays the scene,
Horses stepping out of their ranks.
Snow that means forests.
Grass meaning jungles.
This horse all-tethered is again.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Demise Of My Horses
Demise of My Horses
I had been away for a few days,
visiting the aunts of Cascais,
and found my three stone horses gone.
Just cheerless holes
where they had been tethered.
Widening the road, they said
and for that beauty must go.
When a road is enlarged more
cars will fill the space until
the bigger road is too small and
they decide to build a motorway.
The other side of the road will be
impossible to cross and neighbours
will become strangers.
Sun or rain endlessly stunning my horses were
before turned into grit.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When Dawn Comes to the City
The tired cars go grumbling by,
The moaning, groaning cars,
And the old milk carts go rumbling by
Under the same dull stars.
Out of the tenements, cold as stone,
Dark figures start for work;
I watch them sadly shuffle on,
'Tis dawn, dawn in New York.
But I would be on the island of the sea,
In the heart of the island of the sea,
Where the cocks are crowing, crowing, crowing,
And the hens are cackling in the rose-apple tree,
Where the old draft-horse is neighing, neighing, neighing,
Out on the brown dew-silvered lawn,
And the tethered cow is lowing, lowing, lowing,
And dear old Ned is braying, braying, braying,
And the shaggy Nannie goat is calling, calling, calling
From her little trampled corner of the long wide lea
That stretches to the waters of the hill-stream falling
Sheer upon the flat rocks joyously!
There, oh, there! on the island of the sea,
There would I be at dawn.
The tired cars go grumbling by,
The crazy, lazy cars,
And the same milk carts go rumbling by
Under the dying stars.
A lonely newsboy hurries by,
Humming a recent ditty;
Red streaks strike through the gray of the sky,
The dawn comes to the city.
But I would be on the island of the sea,
In the heart of the island of the sea,
Where the cocks are crowing, crowing, crowing,
And the hens are cackling in the rose-apple tree,
Where the old draft-horse is neighing, neighing, neighing
Out on the brown dew-silvered lawn,
And the tethered cow is lowing, lowing, lowing,
And dear old Ned is braying, braying, braying,
And the shaggy Nannie goat is calling, calling, calling,
From her little trampled corner of the long wide lea
That stretches to the waters of the hill-stream falling
Sheer upon the flat rocks joyously!
There, oh, there! on the island of the sea,
There I would be at dawn.
poem by Claude McKay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Normals
That group of people over there...
Tethered and being lead around like that.
What's wrong with them?
'Just take a glance.
Do not stare at them.
They become easily offended.'
Who are they?
'We call them 'The Normals'.
They represent a standard of life gone now.
They are the one's convinced the world is ending.'
But...
WHY are they tethered together and lead like sheep?
'It's a tradition.
Instead of following along they now prefer to be tethered.
And frankly...
It is a mutual acceptance they are kept that way.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
New York Winter
New York Winter
Upon seeing the weather on TV, I noticed in your area
Your weather outside is dreadful But here it's so delightful
So because you've no place to go, watch it snow, watch it snow, watch it snow
It doesn't show signs of quittin You know you're stuck there just a sittin
Guess you could let the lights go low
Save some electric and watch it snow, snow, snow
It's gonna be 72 here today Why'd anyone stay up your way?
You need to find another place to go
Where there isn't any snow, any snow, any snow
Come visit, we have room with a view
Something you'll see that is new
With grass that one doesn't have to mow
And there's no snow, there's no snow, there's no snow
Jim 2008
poem by James Casey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Song Of The Evergreens
Listen to the briskly whistling winter evergreen
Whispering through the frozen morning light
And tell me whats to come
Saying my time is near
Never fear
I close each year
Im winter
Reminding me to trade my t-shirts for my woven wools
Trade my sandals for my skis
Whispered warnings in the wind
Saying soon come the dancing snowflakes
Theyre kissing every tree
Theyre kissing you and me
Please hurry
Falling
Dazzling dancing diamonds from the sky
Prisms
Rainbow sparkled flurries in our eyes
Whipping across the frozen crystal meadow
Pond of ice
Race the snow
Well build a warming fire there
And cuddle close and wine and dine
The setting sun
The morning light will find us high
Shooting down the glistening mountain side
Screaming through the whispering pines
The freedom of each day
Will cleanse our minds
I can hardly wait for winter
I can hardly wait for the snow
I can hardly hardly wait for winter
I can hardly wait for the snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Alleys In The Sky
There are alleys in the sky
And the alleys are in the back of the houses
That God built
So that people could live in the sky
Across from the houses in the sky
Is a huge park
And in that park the kids can play soccer
On the grass
But the grass is always cut at the park in the sky
By God's personal gardener
And God's gardener doesn't use any pesticide on the grass or on the Trees
So the sky is a pesticide free zone that was declared by God
And God is happy to live in a pesticide free world
Also there are no cars in the sky
And the people who live in the sky ride horses
Because horses doesn't pollute the sky like cars do
And the horses are white
Like the clouds.
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
Waiting For the Snow
Waiting for the Snow
When the leaves turn golden
And the geese fly south
Where will I be?
When the wind turns cold
And the bear is in hiding
Where will I be?
When the streams are frozen
And the rabbits’ color turning
Where will I be?
When the leaves begin to fall
And the northern cardinals stay
Where will I be?
When the nuts fall down
And squirrels store walnuts
Where will I be?
When the corn is harvested
And the deer seek shelter
Where will I be?
When the grass is brown
And the pheasants are flying
Where will I be?
I will be riding before the wind
And winging t’ward the sun
Flying from the snow
I will be waiting for spring
And sleeping till then
Hiding from the snow
I will be hiding till I’m white
And searching the ground for food
Waiting for the snow
I will be looking for berries
And singing merrily
Waiting for the snow
I will be saving acorns
And jumping form tree to tree
Waiting for the snow
I will be searching fields for corn
And hiding in thickets
Waiting for the snow
I will be hiding under grass
And calling out loud
Waiting for the snow
A deer tethered with a golden chain can escape to the forest to eat grass.
Poverty Grass
Wild horses we
Pricked at the wind,
Never to know, alas;
That all the lord of our fortunes bought
For us
Was poverty grass.
Poverty grass
The paupered seed
So sickly poor, alas;
The souls of the great untamed grow weak
Despair
On poverty grass.
And you, my friend,
Grew sick awhile,
And cried and cried, alas;
While I grew fat on a flowering weed
Called pride
And poverty grass.
And when you left
The field to me
I almost died, alas;
For I was left in a fallow field
Piled high
In poverty grass.
Wild horses we
Pricked at the wind,
Never to know, alas;
That all the lord of our fortunes bought
For us
Was poverty grass.
24 January 1980
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Boy Lives On Our Farm
The boy lives on our Farm, he's not
Afeard o' horses none!
An' he can make 'em lope, er trot,
Er rack, er pace, er run.
Sometimes he drives two horses, when
He comes to town an' brings
A wagon-full o' 'taters nen,
An' roastin'-ears an' things.
Two horses is 'a team,' he says,
An' when you drive er hitch,
The right-un's a 'near-horse,' I guess
Er 'off'--I don't know which--
The Boy lives on our Farm, he told
Me, too, 'at he can see,
By lookin' at their teeth, how old
A horse is, to a T!
I'd be the gladdest boy alive
Ef I knowed much as that,
An' could stand up like him an' drive,
An' ist push back my hat,
Like he comes skallyhootin' through
Our alley, with one arm
A-wavin' Fare-ye-well! to you--
The Boy lives on our Farm!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
the French Language
MY STONE HORSES
Horses in the snow
I have brought them fodder
Tey neigh
Snow on their backs thaws
I am a purveyor of happiness?
MES CHEVAUX DE PIERRE
Chevaux dans la neige,
Je leur ai apporté du fourrage,
Ils hennissement,
La neige sur leurs dos fond,
Suis-je un pourvoyeur de bonheur?
Jan Oskar Hansen
Translated into French by Athanase Vantchev de Thracy
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Now A Memory Of The Past
The travellers parked their romany horse drawn vans at the Shannaknock Cross when when frosted fields were bare
But despite the cold and damp weather they did not seem to have a care
Their pinto horses with ropes tied to trees munched on bunches of hay
And old Clara Hill wore his hat of snow on a cold February day
The coldness of the Winter chill was in the frosty air
A week before the first of March and Millstreet Town Horse Fair
The by roads of Duhallow they had travelled up and down
On their way to the big horse fair that was held in Millstreet Town
Time does not wait for anyone and leaves us looking older and gray
But the good memories of our childhood years till death with us will stay
I loved them for their love of poetry, song and music and life they did enjoy
But the sixties brought great change to Duhallow where I lived as a boy
The late twentieth century to Ireland brought great changes and few things seem to last
And their romany vans and pinto horses now a memory of the past.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Horses In The Snow
Their manes are a wintry white
Frosted with the glittering snow
There backs are dappled light
And shimmer with a frozen glow
Dark browns and golden tones
Contrast with the wonderland
From dark grays to deep roans
The muted colors of the land
Their manes and backs are white
Frosted with the falling snow
The horses dance through the light
Of the shining, shimmering snow
poem by Horse Poet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Snow
The Snow, the snow
however so sweet,
The snow blows, glows
and that our treat
It topples, trims, melts, and goes,
Not even the experts; so called pros,
can accurately predict
how the snow blows
Even when we look at the sky,
We can see the snow come down,
and then it spreads it's wings and flies,
all over the town
That town is anxious
as it waits for the little snow,
all the children wait happily
as they all know;
that the snow will surley go,
and leave no trace behind
Hear now, Hear now
for it may be,
It's time, It's time
for the white snow to flee.
It's come, It's came
so please don't run,
come here, next year,
to have some more fun.
Jon VN
And The Grass Won't Pay No Mind (Undubbed Master)
Listen easy, you can hear God calling
Walking barefoot by the stream
Come on to me, Your hair's softly falling
On my face as in a dream
And the time will be our time
And the grass won't pay no mind
Saying nothing, lying where the sun is
Baking down upon our sides
My lips touch you, with their soft wet kisses
Your hands gentle in reply
And the time will be our time
And the grass won't pay no mind
Child, touch my soul with your cries
And the music will know what we've found
I, hear a hundred good-byes
But today I hear only one sound
The moment we're living is now
Now now now now now now now
Young bird flying, and a soft wind blowing
Cools the sweat inside my palms
Close my eyes, hear the flowers growing
As you lay sleeping in my arms
And the time will be our time
And the grass won't pay no mind
No the grass won't pay no mind
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!