"horsing" poems
a grandchild
for her 9th birthday
very happy
to be away from her older
as well as her younger sister
for a while
spent a long weekend
with her grands
they picked her up
schoolbag and bathing suit
and guitar & everything else
she had already mentioned
that French Toast for breakfast
would be REALLY nice
and that’s what she got
together with chocolate milk
1 minute in the microwave,
according to her wish
patiently reading her book
while the oldies got their act together
in their slow morning routine
they all went birthday shopping
& out for lunch
she read her book again while the oldies
were snoring their nap
& then they all had great fun
swimming and horsing around in the public pool
watching some TV
& improving her ping-pong game
happy & tired
after dinner some goodnight reading
doughnuts and hot chocolate for breakfast
next morning
and then
with grandma’s help
printing out a card for Mom on Mother’s day
AND baking real brownies as a gift….
a happy & proud 9-year old
was delivered to her parents
& presented her mother with the card
& the brownies & the new dress
& the homework all done
somehow
the guitar practice had gotten lost
yet she was the envy of her siblings
for the day
* * *
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 10:03 AM UTC
O Prince Charming - O so young
There with lyre, just horsing around,
Maidens sought and maidens fair,
(Or prance along stable boys, I don't care)
Glowing sunlit golden hair, kept well,
Yet have at me an Alexander though,
great conqueror and builder hold,
Prince be ****** give me a king
Give me an emperor to so tempt,
Not an inexperienced boy on slights
but a battle-hardened man, a ruler instead.
Dec 4, 2018
Dec 4, 2018 at 8:29 PM UTC
Her Horse didn’t canter in Canterbury
Her braided hair was long and Brown.
She galloped uncovered in Coventry
so that taxes would drop like her gown.
Hot to trot without makeup or Jewelry
Hair undone, long tresses hang down.
A ****** named Tom was observing her
riding through town sans a gown.
A woman of substance and Charity-
Not given to horsing around.-
Her legend comes down from antiquity
That’s how seldom those taxes go down.
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 9:45 PM UTC
Stagecoach trundled, rutting, wheels
Soily grasp, grabbing at the earthy recipe
Cart....horsing around the outdoorsiness
Ferris wheel spun, gathering passengers
To overlook the show ground, smattered
Four legged races, saddled with encumbents
Bobbing in display formation. Far above
I caught sight of circular ribbons emblazoned
Lapels holding onto prize winners, suffering
The pin ***** jabbing at willing winners
Left foot first, hopscotch to the flap of tarpaulin
Billowing their precious overgrown greatness
Of perfect vegetalia, proud, excessive....of the
Dinner plate variety. Don't touch their polished
Surface, they deliberately await photographic
Validation; future growers, challenging champion
Chompers, terrorising super-veggie heros
I wonder what becomes of former ground growers
Do they take a back stage bow? Uprooted with
Those of a lesser kind, jostling for saucepan space
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 2:11 PM UTC
April 24 2010 there was a Boy Scout display in the parking lot North of Mickey Ds and by the Imagination Station. Tony was fascinated by many of the displays. The Sheriff’s Office was well represented with several displays. Tony got to climb up on the rescue boat, the one we see going by our house frequently in the summer to fish someone out of the river. The two Sheriff’s Office Deputies in charge of the boat were really good with the kids. About 15 minutes later Tony bent over the bow of the boat, I was on the good ole solid ground, and said to me, “These guys are really COOL grandpa.” I said, “yup, they are.” and looked over at one of guys. I ask, “Did you hear that?” With a big grin he said, “I sure did.” He had a big grin on his face for a while. Tony debarked and headed to new territory. I have to have speedy shoes on to keep up some days. I wish I could find a pair of those.
Later we were at a different car on display. The people there were young intern or trainee types wearing the Sheriff’’s Office shirt and hardware. Tony had bailed out of the armored car where he had been playing for 20 minutes and was standing next to me watching the young group yucking it up. They were loud and horsing around some… with out the horse. All of a sudden he got a scowl on his face and said in a rather loud voice, “Grandpa, those are NOT real cops. Why are they wearing uniforms? They should not do that.” Well that was hard to explain and I was hoping “they” did not hear what he said. We left rapidly.
I guess he thought they were not acting the way officers should act. At least not like the COOL guys at the boat. I suppose that comes from trying to instill respect in the uniform of peace officers. The lesson is one each of us needs to remember. If we say we are (fill in the blank) then we had better act the part or we can lead an impressionable young mind astray. So lets be COOL.
That’s my story and I am sticking to it.
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 8:22 PM UTC
You light up your cigar
like a smooth jaguar on the hunt.
As if you were savoring
every moment of it to a tee.
Down to business with no
horsing around. A better
***** cannot do a better job
like you are right now,
even on a good day. Yes, sir.
I knew when I saw them lips
that you would light my cigar
on extreme fire. Oh yeah,
and that right there is a good
thing. You give the best ********
in town. The best that I ever
had in a while. Just keep it
the same when you come back
next week to smoke my cigar
again. I am glad you swallow
all that good milk when you smoke.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 10:44 PM UTC
I didn’t pay heaven’s worth for one hell of a ride— for all the
Valentine cards, I’m just calling their bluff. What’s carved into
stone is too heavy to skip across the rivers of my chest; love
sinks deeper than it pretends to float. A carousel of emotions
spins; all its horses in place— some only love _horsing around._
Round and round it goes; the painted smile, waiting for
the cycle to end, for the spell of tomorrow to break.
So I write letters to the future, hopes tangled in snares of my
doubts. The tongue—sharp as steel, soft as silk—knows how
to give life, and how to **** We cover scars with scars, as the
extending arm, just to say we’re armed, clutching too many
guns inside our ribs. But how can blessings hold on when
your hands stay hidden, when you wear a balaclava over
your smile?
Harvest comes only from what you’ve planted—patience,
honesty, or silence. Soil on the tongue buries every word
that could have fed us.
So tell me—was heaven’s worth ever meant for one
hell of a ride?
Sep 11, 2025
Sep 11, 2025 at 4:08 PM UTC
Pony Tails belong on Ponies,
And yet she still insists,
To have one on her head
Swept back in utility bliss.
From there she can study
And run her errands
Paint paper, not her hair
And hide away split ends
In truth it is beautiful,
Even if it is just function,
For finding ways to live a dream,
Really takes some gumption.
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 9:02 AM UTC
Robin eggs,
smashed in the ground.
Another gulp,
I let my eggs drown.
Swallows
look more desperate
when they're dying for company.
I found my confidence,
in always laughing too loud
not remembering where I went
I don't want to spend more money.
I don't want to read a good book.
If I have to pick something,
I'll keep deliberating on that question.
Fears block the way I climbed up
-jump
the plunge is far too deep for breathe .
Please don't call
my heart will bear another pure lie
I'd have to tell you I'm doing fine.
Catchy conversations
held in shield of questions.
Old women tell me they're not fine,
never do I turn to my side.
Horsing blinders
I walk to the end of the aisle.
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 9:11 PM UTC
~
*This forbidden city
walks on water,
keeps all the undesirables at bay,
it's always a balancing act.
Oh, blighted court
of Catherine the Great,
thy friends are having a hard time,
but horsing around, no less.
Enlightened by summer drugs,
and busting out of
their tops and castles,
thongs on thy feet,
and thongs on thy bottoms,
this zenith and this nadir
come in colorful collages,
everything else is a flash of flesh.
Sped along by
frequent bloodletting,
there's a revolution in
thy teenage mind,
a looking for the hidden
and interested motives,
but no one can live
their life on the skis.
Rulership of heart is far
from recreation,
but you raised
a smile to sin,
until all we could do was
shake our heads and laugh.*
~
Mar 29, 2025
Mar 29, 2025 at 2:30 PM UTC
Oh, Shadowmare,
I ride on your back,
please charge forward for god's sake.
Hopping over squares like a maniac,
oh please,
you're making me giddy alright.
Only at the outpost,
will you be satisfied,
horsing around playing mind games.
On the hill,
the enemy in fear, asking,
what's the stallion doing up here.
Soon the enemy king choked,
and died of a heart attack,
We won the war,
after all.
Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 4:04 PM UTC
Come near and share your joy
Come near and share your passions
Come near here, my house
Horsing around the house
I know you like to be a little wild
So this is the place for you
This is the place for me too
Oh darling, look at what your doing
Oh girl looking backwards and feeling weird afterwards, just know I'll help you
Come near and share your joy
Come near and share your passions
Come here and play some games
It's a shame you've never did this before
Don't be like the others, don't ignore
Explore your thoughts to see the night through like never before
I don't wanna force anything on you
But wear it like an uniform
Transform your performance on the floor
Look forward to seeing you in the fourth fort
Come near and share your joy
Come near and share your passions
Come near here, my fort
Horsing around the fort
I know you like to be a little wild
So this is the place for you
This is the place for me too
We can sort this out in our minds
Compromise
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 9:38 PM UTC
Here lies Alex Rex
Who lost his life from unsafe ***
While attending the Preakness
Roving eyes showed his weakness
Till the filly and he met His ex.
- J. Sandy
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 10:09 AM UTC
Razors, did you know they show a kind act of love?
Picture me at 18, not taking life or myself seriously enough.
Well not as seriously as some would take razors and love.
See, I discovered one day just horsing around on a carousel ride
of trauma, that we can all chase dreams, but few of us will catch them. I discovered I needed to be careful where I was dreams to.
Careful like I was in love, careful like I was using razors to chisel through the ground until I reach the earth's bones. I also
discovered, rubbing razors and love the wrong was can feel as if you had a brush with death.
See, God got it wrong, love should barricaded by stonewalls instead of hearts and songs. Love is messy, and poetic, and it carries a ratchet razors that I often use.
Understand cuts are messengers too, and they tattletale and dry snitch every change they get, about my anger, my fear, and my secret stash of razors to a world that couldn't possibly understand.
What the hell didn't they get the memo?
That I am looking for someone to feed on and stay full off of.
because I can't love normal, just insane and misunderstood. Someone to understand, this is why I stay quiet barely hear.
I got voice as loud as silence, and in the bedroom I make as much noise as a butterfly. Ironic they call me Navah the Butterfly, because when I speak it's poetic and no safe words.
Just someone else's slit wrist pouring out of me, O Negative premeditated blood drops to what is really wrong with me.
And I confess, I sick and creative. I am something you can't just simply sleep off, so sweet dreams.
and it is going to take more than razor shape words and music that sings to what's between my legs to fix me it's going to take God!
Running from every direction at once just to come and hold me.
And I will tell them, I don't know how to stop using razors or a world around as a mirror a world that is someone else's heaven and someone else's hell. So Sometimes I play the hero and the villain as I try to pick up the pieces of myself 5 at a time to put me back together again.
but Cant so I hurt with razors for now but one day I will hurt with kindness and I will be amazing! And I will teach my how not to use razors
Sep 26, 2019
Sep 26, 2019 at 11:25 AM UTC
I’m your pretty little flower especially after our rain showers
I know your mine
From the kind words you tell me all the time
Which, mean nothing after you’ve had a glass of red wine
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 2:47 AM UTC
We had a mission, but
We didn’t know.
It was like the dialogue
Wasn’t there, or
We skipped it.
After leaving the
Second floor as
Stallions
I threw the core
Into disarray as he
Became a lizard.
While I was monkeying
Around I found
The cure
To then hear
A cry for help.
The objective made
Itself known
As I followed the
Neighs to outside the
Armory wall my horse
Friend found himself in.
The elevator doesn’t like horses.
The objective asked
What we were doing.
“Just horsing around!”
He said.
“Gross.”
Nov 20, 2024
Nov 20, 2024 at 3:44 PM UTC
Rough, sandy
Malodors of Brandy
Unlimited space
Yet strangling
Dark, hollow
Look again
Fell deep in the hole
Cannot breathe in this loophole
Wind wafting through its cardboard
The more I think about it
The cooler it gets
I had one similar
When I was just a mere familiar
Horsing around it as if it was my home
What made it comfortable
It was always locked
It was always not a liar
It was better than anyone
I do not know what kind of sorcery it used
But it always eased my fuse
When I am confused, in a ruse
I can breathe after all
You can imagine anything there
Flap its sides as if you are in a plane
You can paint animals, forests anytime
Unlike reality
Turn it into castle
Or a storage of treasure
A hideout
Military base
Safe and sound
Quiet, does not shout
Does not turn angry
Cut, it will not yell
Not misunderstanding
Attachment syndrome with a non-living thing
So are these ghosts surrounding
My philosopher's brain is no match for society
Add that with my dash of absolutism
I played along with the appropriatey
But why, did it betray me now?
The more I stayed
The more I get scared
Tsunami of bad dreams slapped me
Cannot get out
But nowhere to shelter to
Feeling I do not need aid
It is better to sabotage my faith
On my own
Than admitting that I am terrified
Sensitive like the morning flower
Than to be hurt by the outside
Than involving anyone
Since everybody around me are dunces
So stay
Once more
Get this occupied
Even if it is already roaring to break free
Where no one will see me
See me be myself
Abnormal self
Weeping, childish self
And come back again and again
Feb 10, 2019
Feb 10, 2019 at 6:15 AM UTC
Blind truth ****** knuckles the last smile I though was just is horsing around.
Why dose things seem to end with a fight at the end of the day.
Not enough pain killers of booz will change the feeling of insanity in. The room .
Why don't we just play nice.
But knowing me the false leading became my fist hearing the deal out of all your bill **** fake lies.
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 8:28 PM UTC