"Somewhere, 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.
BLESSED ARE THE
Blessed are the broodmares in the
Patiently carrying their heavy load
Without complaint waiting for the big day,
When they, without a sound, lay down in the straw
And then the most amazing thing happens,
The miracle of a brand new life.
Now the everlasting circle is complete,
The amazing wonder of a living thing.
The foundation stock of every breed,
How fast we all happen to forget,
Where all our champions came from.
How fast we are to discard the blessed ones.
When they get too old or unproductive,
The most tolerant members of every breed,
Raising their young without ever a mumble,
Loyal beyond everyone’s compare.
Till they go on to raise the next one,
When will we finally wake up and see
How enormously grateful we should be
For the blessed ones we so easily forget?
The Prayer of a Horse
To Thee, Master, I offer
Feed me, water and care
for me, and when the day’s work is done provide me with shelter, a clean dry
bed and a stall wide enough for me to lie down in comfort.
Talk to me. Your voice
often means as much to me as the reins. Pet me sometimes, that I my serve you
more gladly and learn to love you.
Do not jerk the reins and
do not whip me. Never strike, beat or kick me when I do not understand what you
mean but give me a chance to understand you. Do not over jump me and do not
over force me at fences which I cannot jump.
Watch me and if I fail to
do your bidding see if something is wrong with my harness or my feet.
Provide me with proper,
well fitting harness or saddlery and a comfortable bit, so that I may work well
for you and in comfort.
Examine my teeth when I do
not eat. I may have an ulcerated tooth and that can be very painful. Do not tie
me up in an unnatural position, see that I am properly shod by a careful
blacksmith, groom me often and keep me clean. Remember that I too, get tired
after travelling in a horse box for long distances.
And finally, Oh my Master,
when my useful strength is gone, do not turn me out to starve or freeze, or
sell me to be slowly tortured on a long journey to meet my end, but do thou my
master, take my life in the kindest way, and thy God will reward thee here and
hereafter. Do not consider me irreverent if I ask this in the name of he who
was born in a stable.
To thee, my master, I offer my prayer.
Feed me, water and care for me, and, when the day's work is done, provide me
with shelter, a clean, dry bed and stall wide enough for me to lie down in
comfort. Always be kind to me. Your voice often means as much to me as the
reins. Pet me sometimes, that I may serve you the more gladly and learn to love
you. Do not jerk the reins, and do not whip me when going uphill. Never strike,
beat, or kick me when I do not understand what you want, but give me a chance
to understand you. Watch me, and if I fail to do your bidding, see if something
is wrong with my harness or feet. Do not check me so that I cannot have
free use of my head. If you insist that I wear blinders, so that I cannot see
behind me as it was intended I should, I pray you be careful that the blinders
stand well out of my eyes. Do not overload me, or hitch me where water will
drip on me. Keep me well shod. Examine my teeth when I do not eat; I may have
an ulcerated tooth, and that, you know, is very painful. Do not tie my head in
an unnatural position, or take away my best defense against flies and
mosquitoes by cutting off my tail. I cannot tell you when I am thirsty, so give
me clean, cool water often. Save me, by all means in your power from that fatal
disease - the glanders. I cannot tell you in words when I am sick, so watch me,
that by signs you may know my condition. Give me all possible shelter from the
hot sun, and put a blanket on me, not when I am working, but when I am standing
in the cold. Never put a frosty bit in my mouth; first warm it by holding it a
moment in your hands. I try to carry you and your burden without a murmur, and
wait patiently for you long hours of the day or night. Without the power to
choose my shoes or path, I sometimes fall on hard pavement which I have often
prayed might not be of wood but of such a nature as to give me safe and sure
footing. Remember that I must be ready at any moment to lose my life in your
service. And finally, OH MY MASTER, when my useful strength is gone, do not
turn me out to starve or freeze, or sell me to some cruel owner, to be slowly
tortured and starved to death; but do thou, My Master, take my life in the
kindest way, and your God will reward you here and hereafter. You will not
consider me irreverent if I ask this in the name of Him who was born in a
Running, Playing, Eating, Sleeping
Work, Obedience, Concentration, reward
Life, death, sickness, health
The Story of the Horse
A horse was born,
From ocean foam.
By a mythical god,
where he called home.
running wild and free.
Could not be tamed,
Just wanted to be.
Aiding in farming.
Never one to complain,
I Love The Horse
I love the horse from hoof to head,
From head to hoof and tail to main;
I love the horse, as I have said,
From head to hoof and back again.
John Whitcomb Riley
I ride a horse,
a tad bit small.
Though the way he is,
makes him seem so tall.
He holds his head up to the sky.
He can see through my every lie.
His hooves are black,
as black as night.
He'd surely put on a pretty good fight.
Allthough I know he'd never harm a fly,
as he nickers to me,
a soft goodbey.