I Know Great Horses Live Again

I Know Great Horses Live Again

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.

5 Comments on “I Know Great Horses Live Again

  1. Susan Himelright

    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!

  2. christina posey

    Horses need to be wanted.. They WANT to be NEEDED. Our past digressions they forgive.. But we MUST begin to forgive ourselves first…

  3. Archie

    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

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