All the Pretty Horses

Tame not love, nor tempt it...

Quiet, tamed horses after the tempest
Are huddled in stables of steel.
Equestrians menacingly sip their
Foreign coffee from a virtuous Grail.
Strewn here and there are tools
To brand the wildest of mares
Whose heart sorrows over a language 
Burnt in the fire, an act to subdue
Stampeding spirits born to the wild.
 

Reviews

[Nihad Dweidary]

To feel that total rest, (zen) also with horses, (or after a storm in general) in weather or emotion, is bliss my friend, you are the beauty capturer. for I did so enjoy the equality I see here to what you have said.

Your poetic quill is stunning :)

- Elisa

[Nihad Dweidary]

So happy to see that you came by to read this one. Thank you for your compliments. I am more than just flattered. -Nido

This was so nice, thank you for letting me know... :) great piece, - Eli

[Emily Rose]

Once again, your use of language is masterful. You manage to say so much in so few words, to capture attitude and posture and even the very inner desires of the horses in only a few lines. I like your little opening comment, too, that leads the reader to compare the "wild mares" and the tamer ones to love it its course - it's a very evocative poem that can be read in a multitude of interesting ways; I think it's got the perfect amount of ambiguity. Well done!