Horse Manure, A Pile Of It
horse manure
a pile of it
avoid it
and walk around it
spray perfume
to cover it
remove it
or complain about it
step in it
then curse it
shovel it
bury it.
Horse manure
a pile of it
collect it
grow flowers
horse manure
make use of it.
poem by Frances May
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
What do I really think? What do I believe in, without the horse manure?
quote by George Segal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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They think they can make fuel from horse manure - now, I don't know if your car will be able to get 30 miles to the gallon, but it's sure gonna put a stop to siphoning.
quote by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Any Opportunity I Can Get
Which view,
In your opinion...
Has more of an advantage,
From a horse drawn cart?
The one riding as a passenger,
While sitting in the front?
Or the one from the back,
With nothing but the rear of the horse to see?
'That's difficult to answer.
I have grown very attached to gardening.
And any opportunity I can get,
To collect free manure...
I jump and grab it immediately.
On the other hand...
Some of that indecisive crap,
I hear coming from the mouths of those...
Riding along AND ignoring the view,
Provides for me no benefit at all.
And I can tell from the horse's expression,
There is something I do with something 'he' does...
I am getting for free!
And at his expense.
And I can tell by the look in his eyes,
He has become suspicious as to why...
When I ride,
I am the only one who feeds him carrots! '
I see!
So you prefer the rear view?
'That depends on the time of the year.
And what I am willing,
To sit through to listen and hear.
Some crap is more beneficial than others.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The horse loves oats; the earth, manure; and the governor, tribute.
What is a Horse?
What is a horse?
A horse has eyes as dainty as a mink.
The grace is interrupted merely by a blink.
A horse is beauty.
What is a horse?
A horse is a tree in a storm that never goes down.
A horse is a weathered rock that stays around.
A horse is ancient.
What is a horse?
A horse waltzes like breeze over rivers.
She curvets and leaps like rain shivers.
A horse is a marionette.
What is a horse?
A horse is determination, that never stops flowing.
A horse is fondness, that never stops growing.
A horse is poetic power.
poem by Lily Whittaker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wind Horse
Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, gentle Wind horse, you were the last of your kind.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you were running wild and free.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, with this freedom you did nothing but give;
When one called for help you carried them to safety,
No enemy did you have.
Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you gave your life one day
To a boy with no leg.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you gave him your endless love.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you now run in the Great Hunting Grounds;
Giving joy to those there, as you did here.
Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, your life was not the last gift
You gave the People.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you prayed for us, you wished a wish for us.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, we remember you through your brother Horse.
Wi: yo: h … It is good.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, we see you still.
poem by Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Horse Is A Horse
A horse is a horse and a man is a man
And neither can be the other
And each can survive but is much better
In the company of one another.
And while a horse is a horse and that is true
A horse is but a beast
As a cow is a cow, some ask how
On its flesh we should not feast?
For they do so in France as in other places
And I don't know how they can
For while a horse is a horse and is only a horse
It is less a cow than it is a man!
poem by Tomás Ó Cárthaigh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Seeking Touch....
hands seem to grow
smaller with age.
the maps neath the eyes
go from destiny to love.
love that had no horse,
but worked a mule.
and kingdoms only thus,
manure, and sweat.
your body perfume,
rust of a moth's wings...
hymnals made of dust,
simple words, bent nails.
love's sap dried
on your thighs and lips.
no names, no images,
just small hands seeking touch!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Me & My Horse
riding together,
you and your horse.
as you run against the wind all you call hear is-
the wind wipping your ears,
the horse's hooves thundering beneath you,
the chains of your bit as the horse pulls against the reins,
and the faint sound of the horse behind you.
your horse stops,
the horse behind you catches up.
the race is over,
freedom will have to wait until next time.
poem by Horse Lover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Horse For Dinner
A horse A horse
My kingdom for a horse,
A horse A horse
For the main course
Muscles of might
Pulled so tight,
A body of organs
All for a meal
Why a horse?
Why not a deer?
A horse does the work,
A deer will just peer
A horse is strong
a deer has no uses,
so there for a deer
suffers the abuses
Condemned is a deer
as from the day it's born,
until the day it dies
and its meaty flesh torn
So why a horse
if a deer has no uses?
because I am a man
Who too, has suffered too many abuses
poem by John McAdam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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High Horse
Get up on your high horse, woman
Get up on your high horse now
And get up on your high horse, woman
I'll make it up to you somehow
Moonlit shadow, she starts a trippin' firelight
Jumpin' the trees lyin' across the right of way
Silvery mornin' it glistens down the valley
But she don't stop 'til we ride the night away
Get up on your high horse, woman
Get up on your high horse now
Get up on your high horse, woman
I'll make it up to you somehow
Blonde braids tangle at the misty break of mornin'
Catchin' light through a dusty window pane
Lost in lust, in denial of the warnin'
She digs her heels in this stallion's flank again
Get up on your high horse, woman
Get up on your high horse now
Get up on your high horse, woman
I'll make it up to you somehow
Get up on your high horse, woman
You paid the price, you get to play
Get up on your high horse, woman
You're gonna ride to the break of day
To the break of day
To the break of day
To the break of day
Get up on your high horse, woman
Get up on your high horse now
Get up on your high horse, woman
I'll make it up to you somehow
Get up on your high horse, woman
You paid the price, you get to play
Get up on your high horse, woman
You're gonna ride to the break of day
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Late Night Movies
I wear denim trousers and a matching jacket in winters, this because
I always wanted to be a cowboy, the simple life, what can be simpler
than herding cows. I can’t afford buying a horse but nearly bought
a donkey once, but I have no stable and couldn’t leave it in room,
one can’t toilet train beasts; they will only knock the door down to
go outside for a pee. Oddly enough, once upon a time my living room
was a stable, a big pile of dry manure was the first that greeted me
when I bought the dwelling. But times moves on there are no beasts
of burden left, only tractors litter the landscape and the good smell
of sweaty animals has been replaced by diesel fumes.I wouldn’t mind
being a monk especially now that my sexual drive is in a steep decline,
but I’m not ascetic or contemplative enough so fit in. So I’ll stick to
being a horseless cowboy while trying to walk like john Wayne and
watch late night western movies.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A scapegoat's white hope
A sunstroke sunflower yawn in the whirlwind
and a scapegoat scamper with his old wheelbarrow
which is full of manure.
The Master of the field who walks behind his alsatian dog
and the nanny is washing the baby's nappies.
The Landlady in hysterics after the childbirth.
Bees are humming in the morning glory.
Whipping boy hear the rustling of the pale sunflower
and he poured more water & manure to get her closer.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am
I am a city slicker,
Yet a cowgirl at heart.
In other words,
A cowgirl held hostage
In the city.
Riding a piano bench,
Instead of a horse.
Breathing restaurant aromas
In the air
Instead of manure.
Paved streets,
Not gravel roads.
Oh! How I long to ride,
For this...
Is how I feel inside.
poem by Macy Dvirnak
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Safer to Walk Into a Forest
Everything in nature sheds.
Even the skin of human beings.
The dust we see are these particles we breathe.
And 'if' they are diseased...
So are we.
And everything processed that we eat...
Is fed to skin we shed again and again.
As we create chemicals to rid it.
Getting sick and making hospital visits.
Living to recycle ignorance to the brain...
And wondering why so many are insane.
We are what we eat.
Choosing to pollute our lives in defeat.
It may be safer to walk into a forest...
To be cured.
Than to walk into a hospital,
Where diseases are spread...
Quicker than horse manure!
Bring a mask...
Next time you are asked to sit,
And be patient.
The odds are you will become one!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Holier than Thou (alternative version)
Excuse me now, I'm such a cynic,
But my Christian friend is so 'organic',
He's like the fruit and vegetables and oh so pure
He's wholesomer than horse manure! !
I wish he wasn't so squeaky clean,
I wish he'd shout out something obscene,
I wish he wasn't so 'good' and 'nice',
But wallowed in some Terrible Vice! !
The worst thing is his Spiritual Pride -
It makes me creep and crawl inside! !
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grass
Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo.
Shovel them under and let me work--
I am the grass; I cover all.
And pile them high at Gettysburg
And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun.
Shovel them under and let me work.
Two years, ten years, and the passengers ask the conductor:
What place is this?
Where are we now?
I am the grass.
Let me work.
poem by Carl Sandburg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The White Horse...
on that early dawn
they arrived. I will not tell you
exactly how many were they.
they brought the wild horse again
this time it is white and coy
they did not speak to me
my attention was focused on the
beautiful horse
i did not show that i liked it
i did not talk too
then they brought the horse inside
the house
and then the windows and doors
were closed
and then the white horse started to
dance
and i liked it more
it was then that i realized
what are they really
and why are they here bringing me
a beautiful white horse
will they take my antique chairs
made of rosewood?
will i bargain my house
for a horse?
just for a horse
and they whose names i do not really know
shall laugh
after they had finally taken the whole of what i have
just for a white horse whose talent is just
to dance?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Horse and Rider
The prairie blows the grasses
And whips the horse’s mane.
They travel, horse and rider,
Through the sea of amber grain
Hills roll by, and clouds pass
But steady are the horse’s hooves
Upon the wind blown grass
As they travel, horse and rider
There is no trail that they follow
No path that can be seen
There they travel, horse and rider
Upon the endless blowing green
poem by Horse Poet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The confusing of horse and donkey
There was a man
riding on a horse
horse have a mark of cross
horse saw a monkey
and from horse comes out a donkey
poem by Shahzeb Azhar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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