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Luke Nov 2017
I once lived on a beautiful farm, sparkling with green life,
With family I dwelt, growing crops, and never was there strife,
But even with the gorgeous wildlife, lined with perfect flowers,
I sometimes thought beyond the borders there were secret powers,

So one fine day I left our home, travelling through unknown lands,
Through jungles bustling with new creatures, spectacular desert sands,
After walking many miles I came across a gnome,
Who promised me an astonishing gift that I could take back home,
I asked him what I could give in return; he asked me for my clothes,
And pointed out the quickest way back, a dark and desolate road,

The gift was packed inside a crate and loaded on a cart,
But there were no horses to pull it and it looked to be falling apart,
So I tied the ropes around my chest and pulled my gift with all my might,
Naked on the dark road I began to feel the fright,
I was sure the gift would be worth the many leagues that I had travelled,
But sweating, sunburnt, exhausted, I could feel myself unravel,

I got home to my family at last but their faces were concerned,
Naked, tired and hungry I revealed what I had earned,
The crate burst open with a BANG! The gift charged out with menaced eyes,
A horse as black as a the back of a cave, screaming strangled cries,

It’s eyes were dead,
It screamed and fled,
It trampled everything in sight,
Blocking out the sun’s own light,
My family’s house was trodden down,
And I stood watching like a clown,
All the crops were battered,
My precious flowers lay in tatters,
And it charged our homeland endlessly,
As powerful and stubborn as the sea,

And then it came straight for me so I turned around and fled,
But within a second I lay on the ground, hooves stamping on my head,
I often tried to hide by digging holes with hands and nails,
But it sought me out through day and night, leaving ghostly awful trails,
My family built a tunnel whilst I held my wounded head,
And I lived down there in terror seeing no bright lights ahead,

One day in despair as I lay underneath the Earth,
I watched a flower bloom as if the dirt was giving birth,
And somehow that simple, beautiful thing filled me with relief,
Because I remembered what I had forgotten; the power of belief,
And so I worked my mind out with imaginary weights,
Pulling together all my decent personality traits,

When I emerged from the tunnel which had been my home for years,
The Black Horse turned towards me but I pushed away my fears,
I vaulted out the ground, erupting, full of determination,
And when my enemy charged at me it’s red eyes were damnation,
I stood my ground surrounded by the power I had built,
It was almost upon me, head down, stampeding at full tilt,

I grabbed it’s mane and pulled myself upon it’s black behind,
I straddled it, it bucked around, but I paid it no mind,
Riding that Black Horse day and night I could feel my power growing,
And I thought of the crops for the first time in years and planned to get them sowing,

Tenaciously I stayed glued to that rampaging Beast,
And after a while I found that all of it’s stampeding had ceased,
The Horse’s coat was changing to a lighter shade of black,
My family filled in the tunnel with Earth and I knew I’d never go back,

The barren trees were growing again with glorious green leaves,
I owe that to my faith and to the power of belief,

Flash forward and I sit perched on a marvellous white Stallion,
And around my neck I wear a sparkling Jaguar medallion,
The crops are growing wonderfully - better than before,
My Horse is tremendous and proud; red-eyed and dangerous no more,

My family is still hungry although the crops are sprouting well,
And we do not have the money to replace our farmhouse which had fell,
In the chaos caused by my decision to try and get more than I had,
My curiosity had led to greed and had drove my psyche mad,

So I ride out on the road again and promise I’ll be back,
Owning this great beast I’ve tamed I drive her down the track,
We get to town, and I climb down and lead her to the stables,
Nostalgia running through me I’m not sure if I’m quite able,

‘She is a magnificent beast! I’ve never seen anything like her!’,
The stable-keeper says, his voice an awestruck little whisper,
I walk back home in golden light, not worried for the miles,
Find myself surrounded by a wolf-pack, their pointed teeth turned up in snarls,
My faith is strong, my mind is steel and I am going to win,
The wolves appear to sense this and they treat me like their kin,

I get back home; my loved ones say, ‘Hey, where is your beast?!’,
I smile at them and say, ‘It’s gone, now who fancies a feast?’
The gold I got for the Stallion is enough to fix the farm,
Looking at it now you’d never guess it had come to harm,

I lie in the field and feel the grass brushing gently against my arm,
Watching the birds cruise above me with their everlasting charm,
And now I never fear the dark, or creatures of the night,
As long as I stay in this lovely place, the Horses will always be white.
BE Twain Nov 2017
I was thrown from a boat like a prophet,
washed ashore on an Island of Baalbek-sized structures.
In the Atlantic, under the ‘i’ and ‘c’,
thirty-three north, thirty-three west, degrees.

Ancient mariners must have missed it,
concentric waterways and land bridges, cut by a channel to the sea.
Occasional women gathering and cutting cane,
dirges being sung by a certain, Sarah.

Farther up around the outer ring,
a Bay horse, trapped in a tidal pit.
Just enough seaweed at high tide,
eyes white from living in the dark.

A strange place,
I find myself the only man,
another Adams or Crusoe.
I will free the Bay tomorrow, and head inland.
Steve Page Nov 2017
It was a long long way
through dark days
and dank nights
taking dark sides
against the other
against the distant
against the odds.
Trusting the relay of work horses
to drag our destruction
to haul our backsides
to dredge our pain
to our hollow -
to some kind of victory
that I'll never speak of again
outside of my nightmare prayers
for some kind of forgiveness.

-----------------

Blessed are you, who are conscripted ,  when you are dragged into wars not of your choosing -
For you will be remembered.
For my grandfather Ernest Page.   A boy from Brockley in South East London who fought in WW1 in the royal field artillery as a Gunnery Sgt.  Picture the movie War Horse and you'll get the idea.
mark john junor Oct 2017
the horse racing to greet dawn
coated in sweat cold winter night
chases his riders desperation into the pathless night
chases his kindred's dream
to fly across the trackless predawn light
to be swifter than the wind
to be as effortless as the burning sun
to be as fast as dreams

pushing himself
he knows his rider must flee
knows the men with knives give chase
know he will perish with this rider
if he does not reach the dawn before them
if he does not ****** destiny from them that chase
pushing harder and harder
mile and another mile, another mile

his thoughts are for the lazy pasture
that he calls home
for the dance of sun and hooves
the cool cool water on a hot day
the sweet taste of fresh oat and meal
his mare beside him
the colt they had borne
his warm home so many miles behind

now he races along the
breaking edge of dawn
each stride his weariness ties to master him
yet his riders desperation pushes him onward
now he races against his mortal endurance
now he races against his dying breath

the men with knives seem immortal
they draw ever closer
the danger of them grasps at his every stride
the horror of them breaths on his tail
now he races against his mortal endurance

beyond any thought but to flee
as the dawn breaks, he slips into darkness
stumbling he fights his way forward
fighting to take another stride
rider and fear forgotten now
as he falls to the cold earth
but his spirit runs faster than wind
but his spirt swifter than dreams
his spirit free now
to a forever pasture of peace and sun
a horse will run itself to death for the love of its rider
My array once glowed in the sky that this horizon
cried for winds that she boor in the afternoon
if I absorbingly flew into her midst
and like a rabbit in my throat that fed till she ware in that middle

this certain bloom that tired at my linchpin
she found with much regard
that I saw her tomorrow a swirling zest in my caper.
Bexly Sep 2017
Fears Tears regrets and gloom,
The fog rolls in under
The two horse moon.

I've two ways to go, with a choice of three,
The fourth swallows everything as she whispers "follow me.

Laughter through the lies now fill the room,
All now shines bright under the two horse moon.

Hold me back, two is now one
Hold me steady until the wild one comes.
What lies beneath you can not see,
For I will take your everything and whisper" follow me.

Laid apon my soulful side,
Empty transparent and consumed.
"Stand me up, refill this life!
screams the man on the two horse moon.
G Rog Rogers Aug 2017
-Lyrix

-Rock 'a Billy
Country Rock 'n Roll

I wanna' real fast woman
and a beautiful horse to ride
I wanna' real fast woman
and a beautiful horse to ride
I wanna' real fast woman
who always makes it home
ahead of time

The Texas summer simmers
but the cold long winters
hotter still
The Texas summer simmers
but the cold long winters
hotter still
Those long winter nights
give those fast women
time to chase a thrill

Big D and Cowtown's brimmin'
with those fast
hard-hearted
women
Big D and Cowtown's brimmin'
with those fast
hard-hearted
women
It's disaster that their after
It's just heartache on
the wild side of liven'

I wanna' real fast woman
and a beautiful horse to ride
I wanna' real fast woman
and a beautiful horse to ride
I wanna' real fast woman
who always makes it
home ahead of time

She's driven'
90 miles an hour
lookin' for another
*****-tonk
She's driven'
90 miles an hour
tryin' to make another  
*****-tonk
She's gonna'
find her a cowboy
and She's gonna' show him
what it's all about

I wanna' real fast woman
I wanna' real fast woman
I wanna' real fast woman
who rides her pony home
......in overdrive.

-R.

(96)
-D

*Big D and Cowtown---Dallas and Fort Worth (D/FW)
©2017
Allyssa Jun 2017
It is the pain in my heart that has saddled onto my chest like a stallion ready to ride into battle.
Except this horse is no more and the reins are rotten and the animal itself is in pain.
It's crying.
What do you do to a beautiful animal when it's in pain?
You put it out of its misery.
Is that what I am to be?
An animal, worked so hard and rugged that the pain is so much that I cannot ride into the war of life that is yet waiting for me to vanquish,
Am I not ready for the medal I am to win for the life I have conquered and it's enemies I had slain?
Am I not ready for the news that my soldiers in battle have lost their way beside me onto a path of their own so that their bravery was no more than the shield I have given them to hide behind?
My stallion, my heart, my pain, my chest, it is rotten.
For the years I have come head first into battle, it does not matter anymore.
For the pain that resides in my chest,
My beautiful stallion, you're done.
Thank you for being the courage I needed, the strength you had offered me,
The love I needed,
And the friend I relied upon when I had none.
My soldiers,
My fleet,
My friends.
They have perished
And so has their captain.
I'm on the verge of losing this battle.
AllyRose Jun 2017
What have I done?
To be treated like dirt in your eyes.
Always under the gun.
Constantly being vandalized.
Forever on the run.

Run Race Horse Run
The shows only just begun.
What goods a race horse that's not any fun?
Show me your teeth like a good one.

You want to tame me,
But I was born to be wild and free.
Not in a dudgeon.
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