Leather

Leather

Dampened jeans and hot leather combined

Sweet horse sweat and human salt beads

Sticky sun in a dusty earth patch

Two dry throats and sore muscles

Hearts thudding with heavy motion

Work and play are all the same

This is my day…

by HorseFeathers, age 17

Fuego's Freedom

Fuego’s Freedom

If you could’ve sworn you’d seen a horse
Charging out of a flame
Or forming out of an autumn leaf
Maybe you’ve seen Fuego’s spirit
For he is a whinny into the moon at night
And a fiery, restless creature
Starved of freedom
His mortal self
Couldn’t live off fenced pasture
He is now a wild thing
Every October he scours the scape
For a place as remote and wild as his spirit
Fuego may pay you a visit
During his journey
For a loco sort of liberty
Will Fuego, a whinny into the moon at night
A restless spirit, an autumn leaf, a stray flame…
Find his long lost freedom…
In you?

by HorsesForever, age 10

THE RED BEAUTY

THE RED BEAUTY

The swift, red beauty,
the glowing red coat,
the beautiful eyes,
and those ears.

He is fast as lightning,
with those powerful legs,
he seems to prance
when he trots!

The red coat shines,
golden in the sun,
he looks like fire,
from where I watch.

Those beautiful eyes,
stare adoring at me.
His eyes filled with trust and love,
as he protects me.

Ears upright,
as straight as the ruler.
He stands there alert,
to hear for any danger.

The red beauty stands there,
guarding me day and night.
No one can separate our bond,
that is deep down our hearts.

Apoorva Rao

Dark Horse

 

Dark Horse

Dark Horse!

Immortal guidon of restless nomads,

Sages weeping to grasp Thy wisdom,

Garnered truly through such lucid eyes.

Dark Horse!

Captured fleetingly by the Artist’s brush,

Stabled lovingly in Man’s treasured tomes,

Forever living and never dying.

Dark Horse!

Pounding down through time;

Solitary witness to the pursuits of men,

And privy to the realms of Angels.

© by Barbara Dunn Reeves

Painted Pony

Painted Pony

Song For The Horses: Native American Chant Style

If we forget our way, we have forgotten

the horse is not bridled by the rainbow anymore.

Running on the ancient paths, we remember who we are.

We are strangers in our own land

but we live in the Land’s ways

and make it our own again.

Oh beautiful horse, I see you and say:

rustle the grasses with your presence,

cloud the sky with your eyes,

cloak the mountain with your hair,

beat the rainbeat with your hooves,

take the rainbow in trade for us,

for we, your children

are left behind.

excerpts from poem by Sheri Rene Watson