Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Battle Weary Stallions - Part 2

Poem by Emily Marton
Their Hoofbeats hit the dirt,
With Soft clouds of air puffing from their nostrils,
Grace exceeding their Beauty,
their strides long yet powerful,
With long tangled manes and wiry dense tails flowing,
they have their minds set on the day to come,
to survive the harsh plains,
so beautiful,
yet so cruel.
The young stay close,
minds buzzing
with fluffy tails and high pitched whinnies,
their short strides quicken to keep up with the rush
of yet another move,
never knowing what the day may bring.
but in the soft beating of their hooves,
their Wild spirit will always be pure.
because They are Wild horses................

As Dawn Approaches
by Mistie Michelle Freeman

As dawn approaches, he is born;
As noon comes, he walks beside his dam.
As the sun sets, he is led back to the herd.
As the moon rises, he beds down beneath her.
At the dawn, he meets his sire.
At the noon, he is at her side to feed.
At the setting of the sun, he lies at rest.
At the rising of the moon, he finds his bed.
At the dawn, he is at morning feed.
At the noon, he races with the wind.
At the setting of the sun, he tires from play.
At the rising of the moon, he says his nightly prayers.
As dawn approaches, he looks toward the rising sun.
At the noon, he leads his band to water.
As the sun sets, he watches as his mares bed down.
At the rising of the moon, he keeps close watch over the band.
As dawn approaches, he gets older.
As noon comes, he gets weary.
As the sun sets, he leaves his band to the worthy colt, now a stallion.
As the moon rises, he beds down one final time....................
Wild Heart
By Lacy Priest
Her pounding hooves barely touched the ground,
If she escapes, she'll never be found.
The men's ropes are twirling, now flying throuth the air,
Waiting to tighten 'round the neck of the mare.
She sees it and cuts to the right,
While the riders draw empty ropes back up tight.
The men's horses are tiring, but she's fresh as a breeze.
"She's drawing away," whispers the wind in the trees.
Through the canyon, up the hill,
"The men are beaten; she's safe"; the cardinals thrill!
She'll never know bridle, blanket, nor saddle,
And she won't ever help cowboys round up the cattle.
'Cause she's a wild one by name and by mark,
The cowboys all round here call her The Wild Heart.
Now that's the tale of the sorrel mare that never got roped,
Because she evaded all the cowboys with her powerful 'lope..............
 Running Free
by Lindsey L Porubovich

The wind whips through my mane like cold fire.
I gallop across the earth with nothing in my mind but freedom.
I am free and I am wild.
I cannot be tamed.
My breath is beginning to get shallow
I’ve been running for so long.
My pace is still the same
The solid rhythm turns to hollow thuds.
I leap over the brush to escape
The beast is after me.
I was born here and I know the land well
I can out run any predator without misplacing a step,
But this time is different and change makes my heart skip a beat.
This beast is mounted on a brother and is coming fast.
I slowly start to here an echoing to my foot steps.
My muscles strain and my lungs gasp for breath.
I make one last attempt.
Suddenly I have new found strength and I surge ahead.
I turn and weave and follow secret paths,
Until I am out of breath, out of site.
A shudder racks my body as I walk towards a pool of water
I drink deeply and when I’m satisfied, I face my fears.
That was close.
I have known life this way all along.
I cannot bear to think of what my life would be like
Without running free..................
Wild Mustangs by Lydia Bekkala
Mustangs roam wild and free
Necks arched, and tails held high
These spirited creatures always show their pride
Bucking and biting they play and fight
Gorgeous to our eyes these horses roam the night
Silent and strong they run like the wind
Calling their names......................
by Hailey Casati
This is the story
of the firstborn stud
who was a gift of the gods
and his mother's blood
The time had come
spring arrived
snow drifts melted
Christmas aside.
A golden mare
with creamy mane
waited for just that miracle
to come again.
She lay down soft
the just-green grass
with purple flowers
and dew-made glass
The others waited
breath-taken awe
a sea of color
in wisps of straw.
Finally the golden mare
lifted her head
and gasped for air.
Moments later she rose upright
and reached down
in pure delight.
There was a child
as plain as could be
just like his mother
but black at the knees
his head was small
his eyes spaced wide
he lurched to his feet
with ever-gaining stride.
The rest of the herd
neighed in greeting
as his first steps
were ever fleeting.
This is the tale
of the first-born stud
who was a gift of the gods
and his mother's blood.......................
 Poem by Lacie Marie Wiese
If you follow the river around the bend
Where the rainbow ends and life begins
You'll find a mighty stallion
The sire of a heavenly band
He's red like the fire
That burns within
And white like the pure soul
Confined in him
He belongs to no one
Nor ever will
But you can hear the thunder of his hooves
Then all is still
Does this wonderous horse
Live only in dreams?
Or maybe in the bright sun
As it beams
Or maybe just maybe
He lives in our hearts
Forever and ever
Never to part
Unless we can release him
And set him free
Then this stallion of dreams
Will always be.........................
 There is something about the outside of a horse that is good for the inside of a man........Winston Churchill
 The essential joy of being with horses is that it brings us in contact with the rare elements of grace, beauty, spirit, and fire..........Sharon Ralls Lemon

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