The Chestnut Stallion
(To horse lovers)
He was born of noble blood
This great Chestnut Stallion
No man would ever mount him
Mum came by Spanish Galleon
In spring the mare did foal
A gangly, unsure colt
Possessed he great soul
Betwixt eyes a thunderbolt
Before long grew strong ‘n fast
Quite something this chestnut hoss
He lived with herd on prairie vast
Was clear one day he’d be boss
Challenge came one summer day
Chestnut called out “Old Roan”
A mighty fight they'd display
Old chief finally dethroned
Adrenalin ran thru Stallion’s blood
Eyes flashed red at nervous herd
His coat matted with gore ‘n mud
Banished Roan, ran off East-ward
Chestnut ringed herd into tight band
They set off for distant winter range
Away from winter kill, to canyon land
Instinctive migration, timeless change
Back to prairie homeland come spring
New foals’ pranced in tall green grass
Hawks circled above, Larks did sing
Frozen time, while seasons’ passed
Stood guard their “Chestnut Stallion”
Who’s mum came by Spanish Galleon
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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Related quotes
Romin' Wyomin'
I'm roamin' Wyomin'
Dreamin' of your chestnut hair
And eyes of sparklin' blue
So I keep roamin' Wyomin'
And hopin' that my roamin'
Leads me home to you.
I left Aberdeen
On a cattle drive last spring
I was just another hand
Ridin' through the old bad lands
There was dust and there was mud
There was sweat and there was blood
But after all this time
You still prey upon my mind.
I'm roamin' Wyomin'
Dreamin' of your chestnut hair
And eyes of sparklin' blue
So I keep roamin' Wyomin'
And hopin' that my roamin'
Leads me home to you.
--- Instrumental ---
Sleepin' on an old bed roll
Eatin' beans and sourdough
The days are lonely and they're long
I'm wonderin' why I hired on
We round 'em up and move 'em out
As I point my saddle south
This big Wyomin' sky
Sure is blue and so am I.
I keep roamin' Wyomin'
Dreamin' of your chestnut hair
And eyes of sparklin' blue
So I keep roamin' Wyomin'
And hopin' that my roamin'
Leads me home to you.
I keep roamin' Wyomin'
And hopin' that my roamin'
Leads me home to you...
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Horse Sense Under The Oak Tree
It was the greenest green
that she had ever seen.
A tiny, sad-eyed frog,
daydreaming on a log.
'She' was, of course, a horse,
who used, as a good source
of minerals the log
upon which sat the frog.
It was a cloudless, balmy day
and many children were at play.
They did not bother either critter
due to their spinster babysitter.
Thus undisturbed, they did commence
a conversation near the fence.
The mare inquired why the green
was something she had never seen.
The frog, though young, said 'At my age
I'm somewhat of a macrophage,
my diet has its own routine
most bugs I eat contain some green.
Derived from noble chlorophyll,
the stuff keeps you from getting ill.'
' I see', the horse said, 'what about
a horse like me? I'm rather stout,
a fancy Palomino mare
with chestnut colour, which is rare.
Mind you, I like the way I look
in the reflection of the brook
up at the quarry, near the tip,
though I don't like my lower lip.'
'I know', the frog huffed, 'you were born
with chestnut colour on that morn,
what keeps you chestnut is your habit
to get up late, unlike the rabbit,
you eat the grass when it turns brown! '
The mare had placed a thoughtful frown
upon her fat-lipped oblong face,
'now understand that our race
is quite superior to small fry
like frogs and insects, who all die
without a funeral or wake.
You just get eaten, for the sake
of fighting excess population.
Which, a result of fornication
takes food away from upper classes!
I'm sure you've heard of 'horses' asses',
that shows how popular we are.
A horse is, everywhere, a star......'
'But Sire', interjects the frog,
I am just like a vital cog,
without me, bugs would take control,
that's why all creatures play a role.'
The mare regarded him with pity,
' You do not grasp the nitty-gritty,
I do not mind your bulging eyes,
but in this life, what counts is size! '
They talked some more, but in a while
the frog was tasting bitter bile
inside his gallic apparatus.
But when the mare let out a flatus
it was too much of condescension.
And, rapidly, now grew the tension.
An oak tree who had lived nearby
since Julius Ceasar said good-bye
had overheard this harsh exchange,
suggested that he could arrange
a resolution to enable
both animals within this fable
to make their peace without delay,
as oak trees always find a way.
So, in the shadow of the tree
they let their bygones bygone be.
The oak had told them that 'with age
one gradually discards their rage.
And green turns brown, and brown turns gray
and all of that is quite okay.
But that the wisdom of the ages
occurs reluctantly, in stages,
and that no creature can be free
until they reach old age like me.'
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Perfect Guy
Michael Ealy, Sanaa Lathan, Morris Chestnut, Morris Chestnut, Ronnie Gene Blevins, Rutina Wesley, Shannon Lucio, Kathryn Morris
by Tyger Williams from The Perfect Guy (2015)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Perfect Guy [trailer 2]
Michael Ealy, Sanaa Lathan, Morris Chestnut, Morris Chestnut, Ronnie Gene Blevins, Rutina Wesley, Shannon Lucio, Kathryn Morris
by Tyger Williams from The Perfect Guy (2015)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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My Stallion
My stallion is
a gorgeous horse...
She’s the most
beautiful horse...
you’ve probably had
ever seen.
She will run and
lay down for you....
For a treat...
She will let you ride
her...
She doesn’t bite...
She’s a friendly
stallion.
My stallion is
a pretty good
horse
poem by Lisa Parks
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Bonkers For Conkers!
A tiny chestnut tree grew tall
To span the decades well
And in the Autumn or the Fall,
Its spiky conkers fell...
The green leaves lost their chlorophyll,
Became like gold leaf's glow
And children gathered with the thrill,
Grabbed conkers then would go...
A piece of string, a three inch nail
And soon it's testing time,
For some succeed while others fail,
No reason and no rhyme...
Some are champions, born to win,
Despite a crack or two,
As if so brave they won't give in,
They're forced to see things through...
The chestnut tree stayed where it was,
Of fights it wasn't told,
But if it knew, it would be cross,
Because that's kind of cold...
Its children smashed to smithereens,
Defenceless every one,
By human children, even teens,
As if such games were fun...
Tremendous trees deserve much more,
Their grandeur warms the heart...
Alas, Man has no Conkers Law,
So no-one makes a start...
Thus conkers end up fighting fights,
While children laugh with glee,
For all of these lack wise insights,
Hence inhumanity...
Now you may giggle, laugh and snort!
Why should you care at all?
I bet you never gave a thought,
Why should you? You've left school...
Should conker contests carry on?
Or should we get them banned?
If all the chestnut trees were gone,
Perhaps you'd understand...
poem by Denis Martindale
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The Spring—Time, O The Spring--Time
The Spring-time, O the Spring-time!
Who does not know it well?
When the little birds begin to build,
And the buds begin to swell.
When the sun with the clouds plays hide-and-seek,
And the lambs are bucking and bleating,
And the colour mounts to the maiden's cheek,
And the cuckoo scatters greeting;
In the Spring-time, joyous Spring-time!
The Summer, O the Summer!
Who does not know it well?
When the ringdoves coo the long day through,
And the bee refills his cell.
When the swish of the mower is heard at morn,
And we all in the woods go roaming,
And waiting is over, and love is born,
And shy lips meet in the gloaming;
In the Summer, ripening Summer!
The Autumn, O the Autumn!
Who does not know it well?
When the leaf turns brown, and the mast drops down,
And the chestnut splits its shell.
When we muse o'er the days that have gone before,
And the days that will follow after,
When the grain lies deep on the winnowing-floor,
And the plump gourd hangs from the rafter;
In the Autumn, thoughtful Autumn!
The Winter, O the Winter!
Who does not know it well?
When, day after day, the fields stretch gray,
And the peewit wails on the fell.
When we close up the crannies and shut out the cold,
And the wind sounds hoarse and hollow,
And our dead loves sleep in the churchyard mould,
And we feel that we soon shall follow;
In the Winter, mournful Winter!
poem by Alfred Austin
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Life Is Lovely All the Year
When the buds are blossoming,
Smiling welcome to the spring,
Lovers choose a wedding day -
Life is love in merry May!
Spring is green - Fal lal la!
Summer's rose - Fal lal la!
It is sad when Summer goes,
Fal la!
Autumn's gold - Fal lal la!
Winter's grey - Fal lal la!
Winter still is far away -
Fal la!
Leaves in Autumn fade and fall;
Winter is the end of all.
Spring and summer teem with glee:
Spring and summer, then, for me!
Fal la!
In the Spring-time seed is sown:
In the Summer grass is mown:
In the Autumn you may reap:
Winter is the time for sleep.
Spring is hope - Fal lal la!
Summer's joy - Fal lal la!
Spring and Summer never cloy,
Fal la!
Autumn, toil - Fal lal la!
Winter, rest - Fal lal la!
Winter, after all, is best -
Fal la!
Spring and summer pleasure you,
Autumn, ay, and winter, too -
Every season has its cheer;
Life is lovely all the year!
Fal la!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Under The Cedarcroft Chestnut
Trim set in ancient sward, his manful bole
Upbore his frontage largely toward the sky.
We could not dream but that he had a soul:
What virtue breathed from out his bravery!
We gazed o'erhead: far down our deepening eyes
Rained glamours from his green midsummer mass.
The worth and sum of all his centuries
Suffused his mighty shadow on the grass.
A Presence large, a grave and steadfast Form
Amid the leaves' light play and fantasy,
A calmness conquered out of many a storm,
A Manhood mastered by a chestnut-tree!
Then, while his monarch fingers downward held
The rugged burrs wherewith his state was rife,
A voice of large authoritative Eld
Seemed uttering quickly parables of life:
`How Life in truth was sharply set with ills;
A kernel cased in quarrels; yea, a sphere
Of stings, and hedge-hog-round of mortal quills:
How most men itched to eat too soon i' the year,
`And took but wounds and worries for their pains,
Whereas the wise withheld their patient hands,
Nor plucked green pleasures till the sun and rains
And seasonable ripenings burst all bands
`And opened wide the liberal burrs of life.'
There, O my Friend, beneath the chestnut bough,
Gazing on thee immerged in modern strife,
I framed a prayer of fervency -- that thou,
In soul and stature larger than thy kind,
Still more to this strong Form might'st liken thee,
Till thy whole Self in every fibre find
The tranquil lordship of thy chestnut tree.
poem by Sidney Lanier
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Take Me To Gretna
Give me a horse, a fine young horse,
A charger built for speed
And to Gretna, you and I will ride,
Upon this chestnut steed.
My lass, I’ve loved you summer long,
Though twenty more you’ve lived
And to the wind, my wealth I’ll cast
If your love you’d only give.
poem by Paul Colvin
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Let the Spring Winds Blow
Who divided the rivers and mountains
Forty-five years ago, hearts were torn, blood flowed
Standing and waiting, turning to stone looking at my homeland
The cries of anguish are no longer heard No fertile land for the trees to grow, no water to float the ships
No flight in the sky, where did it go
Known long ago, Korea was the rising sun of the East
Everywhere, tall trees, clear waters, blue skies To roam everywhere, to greet everyone
But that was yesterday
Spring comes to other countries, where everyone can travel
But winter snow blocks the path to my homeland Following year to year, people and seasons come and go
I am waiting, why are the spring winds not blowing
Winter is long and cold but spring must come
The seeds are waiting to bloom Spring has arrived, let us join hands
Let us plant trees on the mountains
Let us sail our ships on the rivers
Let us fly far into the sky
poem by Michael I. Byun
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The Stallion Pt. 3
Mach 10 at sudden speed, flying into the wind now
I'm flowing at my feet something of likeness to you now
I spotted you in the sun, i called your name from a distance
I knew you were the one, i called again
I do declare i can float in the air
And with some love from above you must
Don't caress the weasel and don't fall too soon
Don't seek the blood from the panther
Don't take a trip to you soon
I'm the one helding the time back from the sun
As i scope the lobe
I am the one who controls the sun
And i know that things will pass as time elapse, lapses
Time elapses through the sound of you
And the things we could do
Just think of the master
Trying to fool the blastman
Check the cards at the table
Scream softly you are able
To see the sign of thineself as throughout the ages of time
Things you thought weren't going to climb the mountain
See the sun
Touch the waves of the earth
Feel the grass softly
And don't think for the one you know
I am screaming backwards in the sand
Hey, dude, he's the stallion
Yo, dude, he's the stallion
Dude, he's the stallion
song performed by by Ween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tom At Cruachan
On Cruachan's plain slept he
That must sing in a rhyme
What most could shake his soul:
'The stallion Eternity
Mounted the mare of Time,
'Gat the foal of the world.'
poem by William Butler Yeats
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My Walk III: Boy of Two
Boys wellies
Wet and smelly
If only they could talk
About his walk.
Around the lake
For exercise sake
Puddles just made for jumping
Landing in the middle both now soaking.
Pulled along by a boy of two
'Come on Bampy no need of a loo! '
' Chase me fast'
Legs pumping as I past
He giggles and laughs
As he now passed
To the horse chestnut tree
For a conker to see.
All around the lake
And back again just for his sake
Homeward bound
No straight line, just around and around.
Back in, and into a bath
Splashing again, another laugh
A smile so bright
Easy and light.
Dry him off
Cleaner than a toff
Time for bed
Everything been said
Out like a light
Sleeping so tight
Until morning so bright
He's up and ready to play fight.
poem by Robert Green
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The Seasons Are Like You
The seasons are like you
Flowers bloom humming birds come home everything
Changes but not you you stay the same they must
Leave and you will stay cause you are my winter
Spring summer and fall you stay with me through
The seasons cause you are my winter spring summer
And fall stay with me you have the eyes of winter
The face of spring the body of summer the hair of
Fall because you are like winter cool and calm you
Are like spring beautiful and blossoming you are
Like summer warm and caring you are like fall
Gentle and long lasting cause you are like winter spring
Summer and fall you are my seasons without you I
Am nothing do not leave me I need you careing stay
Please I need you
this is dedicated to savannah
poem by Tucker Lane
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In A Far Away Land
At times
In a fleeting moment
I let go myself of
My travails, trials, tribulations
My fears, my doubts
To ride on a stallion of courage
In its smooth photo finish stride
All of me known to you and me
Get disjointed
In that no man’s land
Where the stallion stops for a breather
I throw myself into your open arms
No, the land has no moon
No stars, no gentle breeze
Honeyed words or rainbows
It’s a land strangely bereft of
All these I so far imagined
And associated with you and me
Under that unending azure open sky
In that land of stretching horizon
And vast expanse of earth
And roaring seas
You, I
And the stallion
That looked disinterestedly around
17 May 2011
12.36hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Fyntameryn As Fine as Can Be
Words conjuring images
more beautiful than reality
the horsethief passionately
whispering:
Dancer, all aglow with ribbons
and bows – a ladies’ horse,
high-stepping, as fine as
can be
Teasing with a tongue-twister,
a black dappled horse and
grey also – magical images
of horses
A fiery copper stallion, a dark
chestnut and bright bay horse,
a brown roan, ‘boknekperd’ and
grey sorrel
The horsethief taming a horse
with strange, bewitching terms,
slippery guttler, His Haughty
Highness
Enraptured I read about yellow
finches in shiny mantles and the
reedy note of the ‘klapklappie’,
lady’s heart grass
Green foliage and lacy twigs, as
fine as can be!
(Based on quotes from “The Horsethief”
HJ Vermaas, Tafelberg Publishing,1974, pp.1-41)
Fyntameryn (Original)
Woorde wat beelde optower
mooier as enige werklikheid,
die perdedief se hartstogtelike
fluistering:
Danster, my glanster; opgeskik,
strikversier - mooimeisieperd,
fyntrapper, so fyntameryn
as kan kom
Terg my tong met ‘n ritrympie,
‘n swartblesperd met flougrys
pens - magiese perdebeelde
opgetower
Vurige kopervos reun en ‘n
blinkvosperd, sweetvosbles,
bruinskimmel, boknekperd,
asblou hings
Die perdedief wat ‘n perd tem
met ongekende woordekuns,
gulsbek, gliplyf, hooghart,
graniethart
In soete verrukking lees ek van
geelpiete in manteljasse en ‘n
klapklappie se dun fluitnootjie,
klokkiesgras, blarelower
En ‘n fyngetakte bos; so
fyntameryn - as kan
kom!
(Aanhalings uit “Die Perdedief” HJ Vermaas,
Tafelberg Uitgewers, 1974, pp.1 – 41)
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Images At The Chestnut Tree
I went to the chestnut tree
stripped bare by winter, where my mother
was gardening with potted plants.
While watering them
there were many shadows
that the swinging branches made
which formed images
of ghostly spellbound things
in my imagining creeping near
and in this autumn of my years
the power of destiny
was playing on my greatest fears
as if making it clear
that my last summer was spent.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Child's Song in Spring
The Silver Birch is a dainty lady,
She wears a satin gown;
The elm tree makes the old churchyard shady,
She will not live in town.
The English oak is a sturdy fellow,
He gets his green coat late;
The willow is smart in a suit of yellow
While brown the beech trees wait.
Such a gay green gown God gives the larches-
As green as he is good!
The hazels hold up their arms for arches,
When spring rides through the wood.
The chestnut’s proud, and the lilac’s pretty,
The poplar’s gentle and tall,
But the plane tree’s kind to the poor dull city-
I love him best of all!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Iron Hand
With all the clarity of dream
The sky so blue, the grass so green
The rank and file and the navy blue
The deep and strong, the straight and true
The blue line they got the given sign
The belts and boots march forward in time
The wood and leather the club and shield
Swept like a wave across the battlefield
Now with all the clarity of dream
The blood so red, the grass so green
The gleam of spur on chestnut flank
The cavalry did burst upon the ranks
Oh the iron will and iron hand
In englands green and pleasant land
No music for the shameful scene
That night they said it had even shocked the queen
Well alas weve seen it all before
Knights in armour, days of yore
The same old fears and the same old crimes
We havent changed since ancient times
song performed by by Dire Straits
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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