Sweat running from an arched neck
down unto your chest
my hands stroking from shoulder, to moving flank
wisking away the warm sweat
Lower your neck, hand me a tuff of mane...
than I can swing a leg, over your back
take us somewhere beyond the horizon,
maybe "CyberTrek". -by Marian Noe
-by Jodie Odell
jodell@panesu.esu14.K12.ne.us
-By The Kovan
Sent by Brandy's mommie
greer06@ibm.net
Delicate ears pricked
Intently
Listening
Smooth black coat
Shinning
Glistening
Long black tail
Hight and
Flowing
Small round hooves that look like new
That's my pony standing in the dew
The smell of hay and the stable hound,
The clatter of hooves on the tarmc ground.
The creak of leather supple in the lofe,
The neigh of contenement,
The whinning of fright,
The variety of weight, cob, heavy or light,
The colour of horses,
Chestnut , white, black, or bay,
The turning out of ponies after along hard day,
The munching of food, barely, bran, hay and oats,
The pricking ears and the shinning coats,
The sucking of water from the trough so cool,
All these things you find in a RIDING SCHOOL.
Goldern far and so shiny,
at first I thought you were a little tiny,
Huge brown eyes and a star so neat,
Long creamy mane and delicate feet,
Along smooth gallop and prancing walk,
Oh lord I wish you could talk!
A dream horses pace,
And a gorgeous face,
Oh you're the one for me,
You fill my hear with joy and glee,
And at the show you win for me,
Plus you jump so many obstacles so carefully,
Some people say you're only a toy
But i'm proud of you my goldern boy,
You fill many heart with desire,
With coat of gold and spirit of fire,
You're not just a horse,
Your my friend of course.
See the great stallions fight,
Testing, testing all their might,
One is lightning king of the mountain,
The other is the mighty, powerful fountain,
Lightning rears ready to kill,
But Fountain shows increadible skill,
Who will win? Who will stay?
Finally Lightning gives him a beating,
The defested Fountain is quickly retreating,
Still the king- his neigh can be heard,
Rining in triumph,
He returns to his herd.
I had a horse he was my pet,
When he got sick I called the vet,
It seemed he had some wierd diesease,
Perhaps it was from overseas,
And so my poor old horse was sold,
To a lady, also very old,
Who thougt he had a stomach ache,
And lots of medicine, she made him take,
Perhaps it was a bad migraine,
Or could it be he had a back pain,
It may have been a broken limb,
Alas. The sickness got to him,
Soon the poor horse up and died,
The lady was sad and cried,
Now if he'd had all of those things,
Boy would he be sick,
But what it was that made him die,
was a TICK.
He was a goldern Palomino,
And Johnny was his name,
He was careful with the little kids,
His nature was so tame,
His pasture so green,
A happy life he had,
But too green was his paddock,
Soon Johnny got jat and sad,
Goodbye Johnny,
His owner said with love,
They missed their dear old friend so much,
Now he'd gone to those stables above,
But Clover; their mare,
One day had a creamy foal,
So goldern- just like Johnny, Johnny's son,
Johnny's soul.
The is horse of presence as cool as ice,
This horse of beauty makes you look twice,
This horse of glory, so fleet on foot,
This horse of darkness, as black as soot,
This horse do free could never be mine,
This horse so strong who lived by the sea,
This horse untamed, this horse so free.
When the crouds are collected to cheer
You over the fences in front of the stand,
And when heven itself would seem near to you
And the ribbions are placed in your hand,
Your throne is not caesar's or Nero's,
The world is not at your feet,
You're really no gallanter heros than half
The othere guys you beat.
All the glory be pleased to remember was
never intended to last,
It will soon be no more than an ember
in the fadedout fire of the past.
There are lights that are brighter to borrow,
There flames that are finer to fan
When you wake in the morrow,
And grow to be a women or man.
Be courtly to those you have beaten
be kind to the fellows who fall,
Disappointments ill food to be eaten defet
can be as bitter as gall,
Don't allow all those ribbions to spoil you,
And behave as good breeding demands
and never let selfishness spoil you,
or greed; they have dirt on there hands.
Be sportsmen and carry your honours with pride,
but with honesty too,
And so be beloved by the honors who have handed
their trophies to you.
Be kind to the rest you're out ridden,
Be glade you're prevailed in the strife,
And let jealousy die and be hidden,
And you'll win the trophy of life.
There were two horses that live in a stable,
One was called Ginger and one was called Mable.
Ginger was old slow and quiet shaggy,
While Mable was young fast and not daggy.
The two were truly the best of friends,
Till one day Ginger's life came to an end.
Mable was sad Ginger had gone,
So sad she'd no longer eat her corn.
Said her master, patting her on the back,
We all loved Ginger she was a nice hack.
Cute little foal
Standing by his mother,
Next time you turn arond
He's playing with his brother.
Cute little foal, Isn't he so sweet?
Next time you look at him
He's playing with his feet.
To every type and breed of horse some man has lost his heart
The hunter and the percheron,
The pony in a cart,
The pure white arab with the wind tossing it's flowing mane,
The farm horse with a curled moustache drawing the heavy wain
The race horse, slender ankled, sleek
The shaggy little foal
The broad and buxom suffolk punch
The horse that brings in the coal
The roan, the chestnut and the black,
the piebals and the bay
The cowboy's bucking broncho and the tinkers achient grey.
By beauty, courage, patience, fir
By virtue or by art,
The horse has found safe pasturage beside the human heart.
Mum, it's raining can we go for a ride?
No you can't, you must stay inside.
We know , it's raining, but we won't get wet,
We'll even put it to a bet,
Rain won't touch us, you'll soon see.
Well alright. But be home for tea!
Hooray, we're riding in the rain
Let's do it some other day again.
It's getting heavy, i'm wet through,
How about you? Yep, Me to!
Mum it's raining , we're come back,
We're changed our minds, lets untack.
Mum are you there? its wet out here.
We don't want to ride in the rain! Oh dear..
Please let us in, Were soaked to the skin,
We'll stay inside, and won't make a din.
Mum it's raining, we've had enough,
Here she comes -boy does she look gruff!
How about that bet? mum said,
You said you'd not get wet! -I'm fed up with drying wet riding gear,
Now you're inside, you can stay here,
I've got a good idea for you to do.
Mum it's raining, we're reading away.
This is fun, wish it came everyday.
no wet ponies or tack to clean,
We're saved lots of work as you've seen.
Let's send in this entry, Straight away,
I need a stamp mum, please mum-hey!
At the crack of dawn the man awakes,
As the sun beams kiss the sky,
One glance tells him it won't rain
the clouds are to high.
He bridles up his favourite mount,
old saddle on his back
And grabs his make shift reins to mount
He owns no fancy tack
And on towars the mountain,
The man heads for his herd,
50 head of hereford cows,
the best four miles, my word.
He sight them up on stony ridge
But only counts 48
A cow and calf are missing
And may have met their fate.
A bellow from the mountain top
Confirms the man's worst fears
The cow and calf are to high up
they won't be found for years
But the man decides to take a chance
On his horses steady feet
He'll challenge any obstacle
That man and horse might meet
The two begin the mighty climb
To find the calf and cow
The trail begins to disappeaa
They cannot give up now
The horse has not once stumbled
As the beasts come in to sight
The calf caught chest deep in a bog
He's been in there all night.
The man lassoes the calfs thin neck
With a rope hand made from twine
And when the calf has struggled free,
they begin their homeward climb.
With his calf now safe the man beds down
In his old blanket faded red
And his horse direct a glance at him
And tosses his noble head.
She needs to be ridden,
She needs to be fed,
For that poor little pony,
Just stands and hangs her head.
She needs a bit of love,
She need a bit of care,
With just a bit of grooming,
She'd be a pretty little mare.
I wish that I could own her,
I'd put her into foal,
It would be just like it's mother,
With a coat as black as coal.
It's Spring again, the grass has grown
I've eaten too much, my stomach groans
Each of my hooves is tender and sore,
I just can't help it - I have to eat more!
The pain's so great, I cannot walk
My owner leads me, but I balk
She sees the promblem she must fix
Sighs, green grass and ponies - a terrible mix
So i'm locked up in a barren yard
The gate and it's lock are kept under guard
The vet comes to give me a shot
And tells my owner my bells too pot
The rest of the spring a diet i'm on
I can't eat the grass thats growing so long
but now I feel a whole lot better
And to you horselover, I write this letter.
Don't let us get fat, cause then we'll go lame,
A dreaded condition- Founder's its name.
Although we'll be hungry, for a short time
It's better than being sick in our prime.
There are the laws of the horseman
Observe them whenever you can
The horse is the noblest of creatures
The servent and good friend of man
The turn out of horse and of rider
Must never incline to be slack
Let smartness and pride be the motto
No prize will be won with poor tack
Don't stint your good horse in his feeding
Let his food er all the best
Do him well, and you'll never regret it,
he'll not frail when it comes to the test
Let your riding be full of enjoyment
And remember this sensible rule
Don't return from you ride in a hurry
But bring in your horse nice and cool
if when jumping you have a refusal
Take heed ere you go for your stick;
The fault often lies with the rider
Let jugement be sound and not quick
Whenever you meet provocation
Your temper must never be lost
Your horse may well not understand you
If you fail you will sure count the cost.
If you're stood down the line in the showring
Let resentment not show in your face
The judges decision is final
Accept the result with good grace.
When a long day you're spent in the saddle
And your horse has performed at his best
See everything right in the stable
Ere you seek your own comfort and rest
Now these are the laws of the horseman
Obey as a matter of course
And show you're a sensible rider
With respect and true love of your horse.
I'm the envy of my friends,
Because I look so smart,
But what good is all of that,
When your owner has no heart?
My feed bin's always full,
I'm fit and not in pain,
I'm always impeccably groomed,
So I guess I shouldn't complain.
But I'm really just for show,
For all her friends to see,
She really doesn't care,
A single bit for me.
I've all the lastest gear,
I'm always properly rugged,
I'm in no way neglegted,
I just wish that I were loved.
Lost in a world of despair,
began running in the midnight air.
Saw you standing in the dark awake,
looking as if you knew my awful fate.
Approaching slowly towards your stall,
walk in and fall against the cold wall.
With nothing left to do but cry,
you look to me with a soft and caring eye.
As if you knew something was wrong,
you slowly brought your head around.
With a gentle squeeze and a warm breath.
Could feel you muscles tense beneath
as the movement of your head wiped the tears running down my cheek.
At that moment I knew it was true,
my awful fate was stopped because of you.
The sofetness of your coat, the gentleness in you eye,
could feel your love while I cried.
Although there was nothing you could say,
you knew your hug could keep me around for future days.
Give me a chance by letting me see,
Letting me see the jump that's so scary.
Give me a chance by not leaning forward,
When we're in a bind by that large jump corner.
Give me a chance by giving me the most time,
So I can see the jump that's sublime.
Give me a chance by not tensing up,
In my dressage test when I get scared and jump.
Give me a chance by talking to me,
Instead of going right for the whip,
For I might have a good reason to flee.
Give me a chance by loving me,
On those bad days where you swear you'd kill me.
From: "Kristen" kdudgeon@nemonet.com
I liked the poems. Here are two of my own.
I've a horse named Why Not Andrew.
Sweet and gentle as could be.
Galloping through a field, wet with dew,
he's fast as the wind you see.
Long, flowing, silky, black mane.
Gorgeous, black, shiny tail.
He even looks good in the pouring rain,
racing up the white fence rail.
Bay coat with one white spot,
dainty, dark, black, colored feet.
Never a fight was ever fought,
between another horse he'd meet.
Racing around barrels and poles he loves,
trying so hard to please.
Flying through a pattern like doves.
For an apple or treat he'd tease.
Everything you'd ask he'd do,
without a fuss or fight.
That's my horse Why Not Andrew,
he'll always be my light.
You mount your gallant steed,
and walk him around.
You want a little speed,
you ask and he responds with a bound.
You feel his muscles under you,
the way he moves with grace.
You slow to a walk,
and he feels as smooth as lace.
Your name is being called,
and you go calmly to the gate.
He prances with excitement,
and you leave God with your fate.
His ears are perked up looking
at the arena late in May.
He dances and nods his head,
as if asking "Sometime today?"
You give him the cue,
and he takes off with a leap.
You are one together,
the record you must keep.
The rush of adrenaline
fills both horse and rider.
It feels as if your on air,
you couldn't be any lighter.
You turn the barrels with ease,
and your on your way home.
Asking for more speed,
he responds with legs starting to foam.
You pass the timer
and start to slow.
Your face holds a smile
with a radient glow.
Your time is announced
and you let out a shout.
For you've won the gold,
you knew without a doubt.
You reach down and pat him,
it seems as if he knows
he's done a magnificent job,
on feet shaped like a does.
You walk him to your trailer,
and give him a drink.
He gulps it all down,
like the drain in a sink.
You take off your tack,
and after he cools,
you give him a treat,
'cause he followed the rules.
When your all done there,
you load up and drive.
You hear him neigh hellos,
when at home you arrive.
You put him in his stall,
and give him his sweet grain,
as well as all your other horses.
Then suddenly it starts to rain.
From teamlog@xtra.co.nz Fri Sep 4 18:33:11 1998
Organization: Team Logistics
From: Cantrell, Meghan Meghan.Cantrell@greenpoint.com
June 07, 2007
This is a poem I wrote for my mother...About a horse she bought at an
auction an saved.
My Mother and I were getting ready
To get up and leave at dawn
Hoping to buy a couple of horses
To make a few dollars on.
We arrived at the sale, and looked around
But nothing caught our eye.
They only had about 100 head,
And the prices were going high.
We looked around one last time
Before we headed home.
That's when we saw her standing there
And she looked like nothing but bones.
From where we stood we could see the
Blisters,and sunburn on her face
She was a pitiful site, while we watched in dim light
As she struggled to stand in place
We ended up buying the horse and saddle
For just a $150 alone.
As we were loading her on the trailer
We began to wonder if she'd even make it home
Well my mother took that $150 horse
And worked with her day and night
And after months of dedication,
That horse became a sight!
She's so darn fat, she has a ripple down her back
And her mane and coat just glow
Now here's the part that's hard to believe
They're heading to their first show!
This story goes to show you folks,
That a little love goes a very long way
From the sale barn to the show ring
This horse is here to stay!
By: Meghan Cantrell
July 07, 2007