"horsy" poems
Little dolly on her horse,
how she rocks back and forth,
chaos upon the others as she pulls strings
through the room disruptions she brings.
A permeant stitch upon her face
hiding the reality of mistrust in place,
of what she did to others feelings
thinking of her own fun instead.
Little toys, patch work dolls
afraid to lose a stitch or worse.
This nightmare on a wooden horse
ruining the bedroom of toy and child.
She smiles with glee as the horse says nay
but she doesn't listen to anyone today
forth and back she doesn't care of who is scared
then what was not even a thought goes wrong.
But rocking and frolicking has its woes
as poor little horsy snapped a rocker
and doll fell with quite a tumble
Mummy came and saw the mess.
Poor little horsy got put in the trash,
in the corner she does now stay.
As not forgiven for her wayward ways,
and for rocker that got thrown away.
Remember that what we do has repercussions
be it toy or child, we must think first.
For if we are selfish and not thinking of others,
then it will inevitably be us that is in trouble
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 6:34 PM UTC
Once more this year I lure my little horse
to step the trailer's high unstable place:
a squishy, soft and noisy, tingling force
on hooves, accustomed to a solid base.
Off sand and dirt and even welcome grass,
step up he surely will, since I can bring
remembrance in his horsy mind to pass:
the snack before, and on his haunch a sting.
So up he flies to ride the road with me
to set a hoof into the jamboree.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 11:20 AM UTC