Solid Liquid

Horse nuzzles and lips at the nozzle end as I hold it spraying water onto his muzzle. He plays in the water, loving every minute and I grin loving his joy. Nothing is much better then some one you love loving life. I let my hand slide down his neck to his shoulder feeling the muscle and wet hair. There is a certain texture to a horse’s wet hair. Its not quite like anything else in this world. Wet fur turned into liquid silk that’s more of a solid then a liquid. I try to spray his shoulder once more but he starts nuzzling the sprayer once more. This is my happy place...

Out Riding

Dogwoods protected for years almost grace the tree tops. White flowers in a world of green and brown. Butterflies that seem to be made from dogwood petals flutter past as we pass. Nevermind you, they're on a lazy mission for nectar. I sit back in mid jump barely keeping from knocking my horse off his course as one flies infront of my face. We come to a walk and I gaze at the grass as if I were a starving horse. Its that goregous, nutritious green of spring grass that only pops up in the best of land. This is haven. But its a shrunken haven because just ten feet away is an end to the woods. There area is developing and closing off. This slice of happiness is an island surrounded by sea water. Pretty on the top but choking and bad for life, other then itself.

Life & Strawberries

The round heart shape of the strawberry with green leaves gracing the sides makes me smile. A box of strawberries represents spring, which in turn represents life. And life to me is the happiest thing in this world. Life is my dog, my horse, and especially my pony. My dog lives life in innocences, my horse lives life in acceptances, and my pony lives life! No matter what it throws at him, he lives. My role models of life and happiness. They're strawberries.

Passion

Green and brown of life surrounds us on all sides. I hang half out of the saddle as I dodge and slip around the treacherous leaves reaching to slather their itching rash oil onto my skin. I slide back into my saddle never loosing balance as my horse carefully trots down the path slipping past twigs and branches as water flows around a rock in a stream. The end is not of thought, nor is the begining, because this is just about us. We are one and yet two. We are a team once again. THIS is my passion. There is no other word for it. My passion. To ride. Not the little steps and dances that competions ask of us. There is no agility to those. Cross country in the hrose world is nice manicured tracks with brush jumps and ramps. It is not true cross country. It is not the pony express. Its not a boy riding fast as the wind to get to his mother's side. It is not the tale of a knight riding his one true companion to be by his lady's side long hard war. I want to be put through real tests. I don't want to ride for endurance. I want to come upon obsticals and jump them as if I were jumping the moon. I want to push my talent to its limit! I want to show the world what a horse really can do.

Pain

The high of coming off pain
Its better then any other high
And can't be detected by
Any machines.

Because its relief.
It makes you giddy,
You feel happy as can be,
And invicible to the world!

No one can hurt you,
Because you've been through it already!

Make up for the other day...

First Meetings

Upon first meeting you,
I knew it was going to be
Something special.

I knew you would easily
Capture my every shard of attention,
And hold me entrapped in you.

I knew,
Oh I knew,
But I didn't turn away.

Cause who could turn away
From something so interesting as
A man who would do so much
Great annihilation.

Body Language

I don't notice eyes.
Not really, atleast.
People say they're
The window to your soul
And they can be,
But the body tells so much more.

Not to mention,
That short people
Have to really stare up hard
To get a glimpse of a tall person's.
And when you stand real close,
Like I love to do,
You can't ever really
Get that good stare going.

So I get annoyed with friends,
When they ask me,
What color are his eyes?!
Cause if I like the guy.
I'm snuggled up close,
Not moving an inch away.
No matter if I can't see into his soul.
Cause I've got my window,
In is body.

Punching

I'm lonely,
No one remembers me,
They loose me
And don't use me.

I am such a useful tool
I don't take up much room
I'm not even that heavy.

But no one loves me
No one even likes me.
And why?

Because there's a bigger,
heavier,
one out.

So it can do more work,
Its also bulky,
And you don't ever
See any one caring around one them.

Its all because
I am only one hole.
Its three.
The world is so prejudice.

So I didn't know what to write about so I asked my teacher what she was thinking about and her awnser was "Where to get a one hole hole puncher." So I did it. I made a poem in the eyes of a hole puncher. I'm proud of myself cause I don't usually write like this.

Were what?

Pages turn
And I see an aray of creatures.
Big,
Small,
Ugly,
Beautiful.

But none
Are me.
Er, well none fit me.
They have human,
But those who know me
Wonder.

I'm not even one creature
Some bizzare cross
Of dog,
Horse,
And human.

Most of the human comes across
In looks.
I compare so closely,
No one can choose one or
The other.

Samples of my blood
Show nothing but,
The same question.
The only thing that will tell,
Is the next full moon.

Full Out

Bouncing like a maniac,
Is not that much fun,
Especially,
When you have boobs.

It hurts.

I push a bit with my seat
And we're cantering off.
Its more freeing
Then anything in the world.

My body is completely and utterly
In rhythm with his.
We get to the over flow from the pound,
And I push him just the slightest,
My heart pounding,
I really didn't want to end up in it.

He crashes through
Like a movie poster.
Spray flies to hit every where
And drench his underbelly.

Now we're on the back stretch.
He knows it,
I know it,
He takes initiative.

That girl in Flicka
Didn't have a clue what she was doing.
Cause I'm galloping my horse in a dressage saddle
Not impeding him at all.

We hit the home stretch,
And there's nothing faster in the world.
He and I are one,
And I can't help but wonder,
Why wasn't he successful?