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  1. #1
    Join Date
    Aug. 31, 2011
    southeast Georgia

    Default Poetry about Horses

    I thought a thread to share and maybe discuss favorite horse poems might be appreciated. I'll start with my favorite.

    Names of Horses

    All winter your brute shoulders strained against collars, padding
    and steerhide over the ash hames, to haul
    sledges of cordwood for drying through spring and summer,
    for the Glenwood stove next winter, and for the simmering range.

    In April you pulled cartloads of manure to spread on the fields,
    dark manure of Holsteins, and knobs of your own clustered with oats.
    All summer you mowed the grass in meadow and hayfield, the mowing machine
    clacketing beside you, while the sun walked high in the morning;

    and after noon’s heat, you pulled a clawed rake through the same acres,
    gathering stacks, and dragged the wagon from stack to stack,
    and the built hayrack back, uphill to the chaffy barn,
    three loads of hay a day from standing grass in the morning.

    Sundays you trotted the two miles to church with the light load
    a leather quartertop buggy, and grazed in the sound of hymns.
    Generation on generation, your neck rubbed the windowsill
    of the stall, smoothing the wood as the sea smooths glass.

    When you were old and lame, when your shoulders hurt bending to graze,
    one October the man, who fed you and kept you, and harnessed you every morning,
    led you through corn stubble to sandy ground above Eagle Pond,
    and dug a hole beside you where you stood shuddering in your skin,

    and lay the shotgun’s muzzle in the boneless hollow behind your ear,
    and fired the slug into your brain, and felled you into your grave,
    shoveling sand to cover you, setting goldenrod upright above you,
    where by next summer a dent in the ground made your monument.

    For a hundred and fifty years, in the pasture of dead horses,
    roots of pine trees pushed through the pale curves of your ribs,
    yellow blossoms flourished above you in autumn, and in winter
    frost heaved your bones in the ground – old toilers, soil makers:

    O Roger, Mackerel, Riley, Ned, Nellie, Chester, Lady Ghost.

    --Donald Hall from Kicking the Leaves (1978)
    I heard a neigh. Oh, such a brisk and melodious neigh as that was! My very heart leaped with delight at the sound. --Nathaniel Hawthorne

  2. #2
    Join Date
    Jan. 10, 2008
    Western NY


    Love that... I like Donald Hall but haven't read that before.

    Mine is James Wright, "A Blessing":

    Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
    Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
    And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
    Darken with kindness.
    They have come gladly out of the willows
    To welcome my friend and me.
    We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
    Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
    They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
    That we have come.
    They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
    There is no loneliness like theirs.
    At home once more,
    They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
    I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
    For she has walked over to me
    And nuzzled my left hand.
    She is black and white,
    Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
    And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
    That is delicate as the skin over a girl's wrist.
    Suddenly I realize
    That if I stepped out of my body I would break
    Into blossom.

  3. #3
    Join Date
    Aug. 26, 1999
    Concord, California, USA

    Default I must have a morbid streak.....

    because two of my favorites are either sad/tragic or, well, definitely not upbeat (but the first I find quite powerful):

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