Wild horses in New Mexico — June 1, 1990 — photo by Mark Weber
I rode with the horses
……….into the ponderosas
I rode with the horses along a ridge
……….far back into time
a clear stream, sparkling
like a waking dream
—-Mark Weber
3&4sept13
Wild horses in New Mexico — June 1, 1990 — photo by Mark Weber
So nice to have a poem like this as I start off my day with my students,thanks Mark.
Sublime! Dig!!!
My new poem ——–
somewhere in a past life we all must have been with horses, I know I certainly was, and even in my youth up through my teenage years many horses, I’m always using horses in my poems so on my return trip from Los Angeles last month on a whim I stopped at a horse ranch in Williams, Arizona, and rode horses into the forest of the Kaibab Plateau . . .
I’m still thinking about it . . . .
My horse’s name was R.C.
Very beautiful. Thanks for sharing this with me. I am in Japan …
Came here right from the Detroit Jazz Fest. I will do the festival
here on Saturday nite and then go back to NYC for a much needed
rest.
Love Sheila
In my brief time here with horses I have made a few observations. I think we see the past through the mystery of the horse, through the undefinable gaze we see what we wish and that horse speaks to us in a way only our fathers and mothers could. It is a forgiving gaze, it is deep and mournful, but it is filled with a joy that makes us think we are special. That horse is accepting and makes no judgement and comes to us with a tenderness we can’t get from two legs. AND…when that horse takes off and strolls and saunters down the road it is with an incredible dignity that awes us and the sway of the backside is just plain sexy in a sort of prehistoric eroticism that arouses our innocence. AND….Then there are the wild horses, they have a special place they take us to…. jb
evocative poem/almost haiku.. evokes archetypal memories and lariats of everyone’s intrinsic aesthetic longing and love and respect for the magnificent Horse.. Mark, you’re going deep and deeper into Self and Soul.. love, joan
a handsome near-haiku evocative of the archetypal in all of us, conjuring
ancient memories and love and lariats for the magnificent, aesthetic Horse.
Mark, you’re tapping cavernous into your deep, deeper Self and Soul . . .
love and respect,
Joan Jobe Smith
this poem about riding a horse is beautiful.
i think i was a horse in much of childhood…
Horses seem to touch something universal and timeless. Thanks for this thoughtful poem!
Living in NYC, the only horses I see are on 59th Street, tasked with pulling carriages full of tourists around Central Park. They are stoic, it seems. In any case, I would not taunt them with thoughts of wildness.