The dark knight
He gallops into town
With nothing but his dagger and horse
He sits upon that horse
With a back as straight as a stone wall
Faster than a man's eye could detect
In one swift movement
He unmounts his mighty steed
Grabs out his dagger
With such graceful movement
He began to maul
With such stealth that's unlike any human beings'
He demolishes the small village
After looking around
Making sure everything was still and dead
He mounts his fearless steed
And canters away from the demolished village
With a frightening yet gorgeous smile upon his pale face
He begins to whistle an old tune
As if nothing had ever happened
poem by Storm Pedersen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Puppy And I
I met a Man as I went walking:
We got talking,
Man and I.
'Where are you going to, Man?' I said
(I said to the Man as he went by).
'Down to the village, to get some bread.
Will you come with me?' 'No, not I.'
I met a horse as I went walking;
We got talking,
Horse and I.
'Where are you going to, Horse, today?'
(I said to the Horse as he went by).
'Down to the village to get some hay.
Will you come with me?' 'No, not I.'
I met a Woman as I went walking;
We got talking,
Woman and I.
'Where are you going to, Woman, so early?'
(I said to the Woman as she went by).
'Down to the village to get some barley.
Will you come with me?' 'No, not I.'
I met some Rabbits as I went walking;
We got talking,
Rabbits and I.
'Where are you going in your brown fur coats?'
(I said to the Rabbits as they went by).
'Down to the village to get some oats.
Will you come with us?' 'No, not I.'
I met a Puppy as I went walking;
We got talking,
Puppy and I.
'Where are you going this nice fine day?'
(I said to the Puppy as he went by).
'Up to the hills to roll and play.'
'I'll come with you, Puppy,' said I.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Horse To Outrun
A horse is sent to outrun the rollers with wheels,
A pin and needle can be a horse, but they are animals.
Stones are thrown on the bleeding wounds,
Heaven shines its odours on them to bind.
The wheels spin, to collect a dust of ruined historical measures,
Wheels indeed spin around to outrun the steed,
To make it abandon, but the battle is never-ending.
Eat the green goose, for it is cherished for its taste,
After the race is won by the rollers with wheels.
If the horse triumphs then exaltation is not possible,
Wheels are to oppress the horse or steed
To make it bleed and to crush its very head and neck.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mary's Gators
Mary had a little horse
the horse was just a pony,
the horse had hooves and balls of course
but ate no maccaroni.
She led the horse back to her flat
they took the elevator,
at night the horse slept on a mat
next to an alligator.
As you can tell, this lady had
a screw loose in her bonnet,
she wasn't altogether bad
that's why I write no sonnet.
A sonnet would be all too clear
and show hat she was mental,
but she was really such a dear,
we'll call it accidental.
The horse grew slowly, as they do
the gator did much faster,
one day, it did, out of the blue
it happened. A disaster.
The gator ate the horse at lunch
and had a pudding later.
Don't know for sure but have a hunch,
she bought another gator.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Village Idiot
Did you see the lad, on the corner
He was standing drinking wine
Wears his overcoat in the summer
And short sleeves in the winter time
Takes his holidays, down at the bookies
Well he knows how to pick a horse
Village tramping round the countryside
He wears a smile, but he doesnt say much
Village idiot, hes complicated
Village idiot, simple mind
Village idiot, he does know something
But hes just not saying
Dont you know hes onto something
You can see it, you can see it in his eyes
Sometimes he looks so happy
As he goes strolling by
Oh village idiot, hes complicated
Village idiot, hes got a simple mind
Village idiot, must know something
But hes just not saying
Well you all know hes onto something
You can see it in his eyes
Sometimes he looks so happy
When he goes walking by
Sometimes he looks so happy
When he goes walking by
Sometimes he looks so happy
When he goes walking by.
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet: Piggy-back Ride
Yes, children enjoy a piggy-back ride!
The father as horse and mother beside;
The thrilled little ones just simply enjoy,
And mock at the horse while laughing with joy.
Giddap! Giddap! They goad the horse faster;
Today, they are the jockey and the master!
And then the horse must dance well to their tune,
Slowly, gracefully and speed up too, soon.
Sometimes, the horse is just compelled to neigh!
Shaking its head for the entire day;
No doubt, the act gets troublesome indeed;
Until taken to the ‘stable’ to feed.
At times, children can the wildest horse tame!
But, condescension’s, the key to the game.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
El-Zorab
An Arab comes, looking like hell,
His voice is weak, he can't speak well,
– O, pasha, please, don't be severe,
From Bab-el-Manteb I've come here
My EL-Zorab to sell.
All Arabs then approach with care
To see my horse with reddish hair.
I pull the reins, he trots a while
I love him for his graceful style,
I'd die to leave him there.
But my three kids do starve in pain
Their mouth is dry, I go insane,
And my wife's misery is great,
Because her breasts are in such state
They can't give milk again!
My dearest ones are cold as ice,
But you, O, pasha, you are nice!
Now buy the horse! I'm poor, indeed!
Give me some money on the steed,
Be good and name a price!
He takes the horse and rides about
Slowly and fast, to clear his doubt;
Then pasha's eyes begin to glow
Touches his beard and his thoughts flow,
His soul is somewhere out.
– One thousand sequins, you agree?
– How noble, pasha, you can be!
It's more than ever crossed my mind!
May God be good to you and kind
For how you're paying me!
The Arab takes with smiling eyes
The golden sequins, his dear prize –
From now on they will not be sad,
From now on they'll be rich and glad
Won't beg from foreign guys!
Won't live in tent and breathe the smoke
His kids won't beg from other folk,
His wife will be as was before
And they themselves will give the poor
Some money when they're broke! –
He grabs the money on a whim
And leaves; the fate is good to him.
Runs like a drunkard, out of mind,
But suddenly he looks behind,
Then stops, his sight is dim.
Gazes the money from the sale,
Then falters and his face turns pale,
Looks at the horse, into his eyes;
And walking slowly, deeply sighs,
Comes back along the trail.
He grabs his neck, he's crying, too,
Caresses him, feeling so blue,
And tells him: O, my lion dear,
I know for you it's very clear
That I am selling you.
My children will not play again
By putting leaves on your thick mane,
And will not lead you to the spring
And figs from now to you won't bring,
They'll wait for you in vain!
They won't come out day after day
To reach out from the place they stay,
To lift them on the horse's back!
I will not see them on the track
How laugh and keep my way!
How shall I still my children's yell,
To my sweet wife what shall I tell
When El-Zorab she will not see,
The Arabs all will mock at me,
My life will be like hell!
My wife, Raira, it is true
Now, El-Zorab won't come to you
To walk together, feel the breeze,
He will not fall down on his knees
The way he used to do!
And Ben-Ardun, your husband dear,
Won't fly again, having no fear,
To chase a hawk in its swift fly
And shoot it down from the blue sky,
You will not laugh and cheer!
You will not stare with happy face
His clothes, which flutter in the race,
And on the ground won't put your ear
To hear the trot so loud and clear
When comes back to his place!
O, my dear horse! You are my core,
But I'll not see you anymore,
How with your nose you sniff the ground
How your thick tail you move around
And in the sky you soar!
How every time you chew your foam,
How jumps your mane when we two roam.
How when you gallop people scream
And how you rush like a big stream
When we're away from home!
The desert knew us, I maintain,
And the horizon was in pain –
From now on who'll take care of you?
Who will protect you, as I do,
From winds and heavy rain?
They won't speak gently to you, dear,
They'll curse you often around here
And they will beat you with the whip
And you'll endure their brutal grip;
And you will starve in fear!
They'll treat you badly on the track
And you will die like a poor hack!...
O, pasha, I don't need your pay
Without my horse I'll go astray
I want to have him back.
The pasha frowns: "Are you insane?"
My janissaries, it is plain,
Can throw you to the dogs by force
Because right now he is my horse,
So stop pleading in vain!
– Your horse? Come on, then tell me who
Has raised him, pasha: I or you?
Whose arm obeys, when he's a ram,
To turn him into a good lamb?
Not yours, but mine, it's true!
He is my horse! And on a whim,
I would fight God, for I'm not slim,
Be nice, that's all I do request,
Because your horses are the best,
But I have only him!
Therefore, I ask you to be fair!
Allah is just and from up there
He'll judge and see how you behave
And how you treat me like a slave,
But you don't really care!
The world will curse you, you will see,
With what you do, they disagree!
I'll go to beg from other guys
But from your coins I turn my eyes
What good can give to me?
Then pasha orders, once, not twice,
"Strip him and beat him as a price!"
The eunucks jump from their place –
The Arab turns with pallid face
His sight is cold as ice...
Pulls out a dagger, looks ahead,
And blood is flowing, thick and red,
When cuts the throat wearing a mane
And in a blink, without much pain,
The noble horse falls dead.
Pasha is looking, feels a chill,
The Spachies shudder at the kill,
The Arab falls onto his knees
Kisses the blood that seems to freeze
On those eyes, which are still.
Then turns around, he groans and sobs
He drops the dagger, his throat clogs,
– My kids will take revenge on you,
Now if you want, cut me in two
And throw me to your dogs!
poem by George Coşbuc, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
Vote! | Copy!
About a horse
from the village older boys
chased and caught a horse
an old horse and tied it to a tree
put oil on its hooves and lit it
away went that old horse
busting through fences and gates
trying to escape the fire
but the fire went with it
poem by Marton Dezso
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Just a Horse
A friend died recently
Our hearts filled with remorse
Some may not understand
They’ll say, “He was just a horse”
Broke his heart to sell Apache
But when Dad died he was forced
Three hundred and fifty dollars
“If you want just a horse”
For my daughter, a new chapter
In her growing up course
Her heart and eyes burned bright
Yet, “he was just a horse”
In the arena, through the poles
Riding natures own source
Mounted on her lithe steed
“Yes, he was just a horse”
A queen in the parade
With a crown and sash, of course
Riding regally through the cheering crowd
Noble and proud, “but just a horse”
In the corral or just around the pasture
Listening to her gentle discourse
Love applied with a curry brush
For an animal “who was just a horse”
God created all the animals
Before he created man in due course
Gave humanity all his best
God’s own plan, but “never just a horse”
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
Vote! | Copy!
Between My Horse's Wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
The wind rushing forcefully
Through my long dark hair
The feel of the cool air
Beneath the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy
The muscles work powerfully
To drive us into the night
The stars wink like little lights
Above the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
As I ride over the ocean and sea
My muscles tense as I hold
My skin red from the windy cold
Flowing past the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
I revel in this dangerous ecstasy
A silvery mane blows in my face
Blown back, by the wind we race
Born on by the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
As we fly through the air swiftly
My face is lifted toward the sky
Arms outstretched, wind rushing by
The beating of the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
Faster and faster, we seem to fly
The wind tugging at my body
As I look to the heavenly bodies
Shining on the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
My horse flies gracefully
Over the fields and streams
Are these things only my dreams?
Sitting between the horse’s wings
poem by Horse Poet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dagger Through The Heart
(Dolly Parton)
Oh, you're out there tonight with another
And my pain is so dreadfully sharp.
I picture you with her and shudder,
It's like a dagger through the heart
Do you think that my feelings don't matter,
Or your cheatin' or hurtful remarks
When you leave me all broken and shattered
It's like a dagger through the heart
Oh, I know I'm a fool to keep stayin'
When you've made hurtin' me such an art,
Tossed around like a used box of crayons,
It's like a dagger through the heart
Oh, you cut me to pieces so often
Like a knife or a poisonous dart
I would be better off in my coffin,
It's like a dagger through the heart
Oh, I know I'm a fool to keep stayin'
When you've made hurtin' me such an art,
Tossed around like a used box of crayons,
It's like a dagger through the heart
Like a dagger through the heart, through the heart
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Saddled On the Back of a Steed
Saddled on the back of a steed she is.
Moistered from a heated sweat.
She wishes to tease as she rides.
Butt naked on hilltops.
And loving the fast ride to the bottom,
Where she is dropped.
And she lays next to her muscled steed.
Fantasizing the next throb she gets,
When thrusted with a hustle nonstop.
To gaze and show an afterglow.
That satisfies her peacefully.
As she watches her steed thighs,
Pass her swiftly.
With a mighty galloped gale.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Oh Yes I Love My Horse
Oh yes I love my horse,
and my horse she doth love me.
Riding o'er the countryside,
beneath me my trusty steed.
We ride fast through sunny days,
for my little mare always enjoys to play.
She may buck and she may rear,
but never has anything been so dear;
As the horse I cherish,
and know oneday shall perish.
I enjoy each moment that we get,
always pulling gently on her bit.
For my horse is my kin,
not to be purchased by any bid.
For as a young girl I slept by her side,
willing to battle any that would cut our tie.
So for now we frolick merrily,
each day together a special rarity.
Until the day the good Lord calls her up,
and I must find solace in her son.
poem by Kayla Lonkard
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Casualty
The old man sits
On top of a brown
Battered suitcase
This now contains
All his belongings
I remember him
He was the toymaker
In our village
He was always a happy man
Now I see him
As we flee
The light has gone
From his eyes
There is fear there
That stops me cold
What does he know?
What has he seen?
He sits there
Waiting for his family
People pass by
Asking him
If he needs help
He says no
He is waiting for
His daughter to come
She went into the fields
To pick some sugar canes
That's when the soldiers
Set the fields on fire
Burning sugar
Caramel
Now pungent
But the first whiff was sweet
That's when the village
Began to burn
The old man sits
And waits for her
I wonder how long
He's been sitting there?
He looks to every face
And says her name
Every girl he stops
And examines to see
If it might be her
The old man sits
All alone.
poem by Rabia Minhas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sheridan At Cedar Creek
(October, 1864)
Shoe the steed with silver
That bore him to the fray,
When he heard the guns at dawning-
Miles away;
When he heard them calling, calling-
Mount! nor stay:
Quick, or all is lost;
They've surprised and stormed the post.
They push your routed host-
Gallop! retrieve the day.
House the horse in ermine-
For the foam-flake blew
White through red October;
He thundered into view;
They cheered him in the looming,
Horseman and horse they knew.
The turn of the tide began,
The rally of bugles ran,
He swung his hat in the van;
The electric hoof-spark flew.
Wreathe the steed and lead him-
For the charge he led
Touched and turned the cypress
Into amaranths for the head
Of Philip, king of riders,
Who raised them from the dead
The camp (at dawning lost),
By eve, recovered-forced,
Rang with the laughter of the host
At belated Early fled.
Shroud the horse in sable-
For the mounds they heap!
There is firing in the Valley,
And yet no strife they keep;
It is the parting volley,
It is the pathos deep.
There is glory for the brave
Who lead, and nobly save,
But no knowledge in the grave
Where the nameless followers sleep.
poem by Herman Melville
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Galloping Horse
Watching, in sarrow as you gallop away
in your mighty white horse to the endless shimmering sea
I can only watch so long, before breaking down to face away-
mourning the day i went wrong.
In hoping and knowing that youll return
i leave without saying a word
But i turn too soon and forever lost-you become-
in human and in thought
Now i carry such a burden as to have you-
gone from my life, my soul, and my mind
but still in hoping, and knowing that you will not return,
i wait by the sea-searching for a galloping horse
And in dreams i imagine your smile once more,
by the galloping horse
And in visions i see you, returning-
by the galloping horse.
poem by Afrodita Alkline
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Between My Horse's Wings (Expanded)
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
The wind rushing forcefully
Through my long dark hair
The feel of the cool air
Beneath the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy
The muscles work powerfully
To drive us into the night
The stars wink like little lights
Above the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
As I ride over the ocean and sea
My muscles tense as I hold
My skin red from the windy cold
Flowing past the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
I revel in this dangerous ecstasy
A silvery mane blows in my face
Blown back, by the wind we race
Born on by the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
As we fly through the air swiftly
My face is lifted toward the sky
Arms outstretched, wind rushing by
The beating of the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
Faster and faster, we seem to fly
The wind tugging at my body
As I look to the heavenly bodies
Shining on the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
My horse flies gracefully
Over the fields and streams
Are these things only my dreams?
Sitting between the horse’s wings
The Allegories Of That Early Morning
one can
after a
time see
the dichotomy
of the body
& mind
the mind
has its own
territory
it grows its
own garden
plants its
own towers
of ivory
the body
constructs
its rivers
destroys the
fences
and demolishes
walls
in the mirror
you see a
face
and you are
carried
with so much
sympathy
the carriage
with a black horse
begins
to take the body
the mind is the
white horse
galloping in
a different
direction
the peace of your
world
depends on the
power of your hands
to whip and
caress
meanwhile the flowers
in your garden
bloom and wilt
the tower of ivory
begins to
shoot its light
against that
vast dark landscape
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Rio Grande
Now this was what Macpherson told
While waiting in the stand;
A reckless rider, over-bold,
The only man with hands to hold
The rushing Rio Grande.
He said, “This day I bid good-bye
To bit and bridle rein,
To ditches deep and fences high,
For I have dreamed a dream, and I
Shall never ride again.
“I dreamt last night I rode this race
That I today must ride,
And cantering down to take my place
I saw full many an old friend’s face
Come stealing to my side.
“Dead men on horses long since dead,
They clustered on the track;
The champions of the days long fled,
They moved around with noiseless tread—
Bay, chestnut, brown, and black.
“And one man on a big grey steed
Rode up and waved his hand;
Said he, ‘We help a friend in need,
And we have come to give a lead
To you and Rio Grande.
“‘For you must give the field the slip;
So never draw the rein,
But keep him moving with the whip,
And, if he falter, set your lip
And rouse him up again.
“‘But when you reach the big stone wall
Put down your bridle-hand
And let him sail-he cannot fall,
But don’t you interfere at all;
You trust old Rio Grande.’
“We started, and in front we showed,
The big horse running free:
Right fearlessly and game he strode,
And by my side those dead men rode
Whom no one else could see.
“As silently as flies a bird,
They rode on either hand;
At every fence I plainly heard
The phantom leader give the word,
‘Make room for Rio Grande!’
“I spurred him on to get the lead,
n I chanced full many a fall;
But swifter still each phantom steed
Kept with me, and at racing speed
We reached the big stone wall.
“And there the phantoms on each side
Drew in and blocked his leap;
‘Make room! make room!’ I loudly cried,
But right in front they seemed to ride—
I cursed them in my sleep.
“He never flinched, he faced it game,
He struck it with his chest,
And every stone burst out in flame—
And Rio Grande and I became
Phantoms among the rest.
“And then I woke, and for a space
All nerveless did I seem;
For I have ridden many a race
But never one at such a pace
As in that fearful dream.
“And I am sure as man can be
That out upon the track
Those phantoms that men cannot see
Are waiting now to ride with me;
And I shall not come back.
“For I must ride the dead men’s race,
And follow their command;
’Twere worse than death, the foul disgrace
If I should fear to take my place
Today on Rio Grande.”
He mounted, and a jest he threw,
With never sign of gloom;
But all who heard the story knew
That Jack Macpherson, brave and true,
Was going to his doom.
They started, and the big black steed
Came flashing past the stand;
All single-handed in the lead
He strode along at racing speed,
The mighty Rio Grande.
But on his ribs the whalebone stung—
A madness, sure, it seemed—
And soon it rose on every tongue
That Jack Macpherson rode among
The creatures he had dreamed.
He looked to left, and looked to right,
As though men rode beside;
And Rio Grande, with foam-flecks white,
Raced at his jumps in headlong flight
And cleared them in his stride.
But when they reached the big stone wall,
Down went the bridle-hand,
And loud we heard Macpherson call
“Make room, or half the field will fall!
Make room for Rio Grande!”
“He’s down! he’s down!” And horse and man
Lay quiet side by side!
No need the pallid face to scan,
We knew with Rio Grande he ran
The race the dead men ride.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!