Image from Stuck in Customs
Today’s horse poem is a short but incredibly powerful one written by Stanley Harrison. He was a racehorse trainer and poet born in 1902 (not sure his year of death).
I Know Great Horses Live Again
Somewhere in time’s own space
There must be some sweet pastured place
Where creeks sing on and tall trees grow
Some paradise where horses go,
For by the love that guides my pen
I know great horses live again.
Gives Me Chills
Partly because I know great horses live again too. This is a sweet little poem, but if you are looking for something heavier you may enjoy the Arab’s Farewell to His Steed.
Thank you so very much. I love and look forward to reading your blog every evening!!
What a great poem! I enjoyed it! Thanks for sharing.
Mac was a Great Horse! We had many great rides in the 21 years I we spent together. He was 31 when I had to put him down because he was lame. He will never be forgotten by me, my grandchildren, and by the special needs children who rode him in Freedom Riders. Truly a Great Horse!
Horses need to be wanted.. They WANT to be NEEDED. Our past digressions they forgive.. But we MUST begin to forgive ourselves first…
Tequila’s Sunset
We stripped her shoes and led her to the field out from the pen
She seemed bemused when I whispered “go and be a horse again”
She’d run the fence and whinnie to the riders as they passed
She seemed to sense, the lope along the hill had been our last
There’s not a near or far horizon left for us to cross
For twenty years we roamed the heather moor and Border moss
To sit astride the graceful power and beauty of the mare
Filled me with pride and drove away life’s weariness and care
She could be wilful, horsemen say they have their mareish days
She taught me skilful, calm and quiet patience with her ways
A kindly eye, dark chestnut with a Western pedigree
She seemed to try to find and bring the cowboy out in me
There’s some would say, ‘a horse is just a servant or a slave’
But to this day I’m humbled by the privilege she gave
No more I’ll climb and mount the Bighorn Saddle on her back
To feel sublime, and turn her bonnie head towards the track
As cruel time unfolds the fates that have to be revealed
The hill I climb and view with saddened eyes the empty field
If there are plains where man and horse may once again unite
I’ll take the reins and ride into the dying of the light