I'm Looking Through My Pony's Eyes
Posted: Sat Jan 22, 2011 12:02 pm
Hey everyone (who isn't away at Tamworth). I need advice again. A lady asked me to write a poem to go with her painting of a horse and its eye seemed to really draw my attention. Do you think the extra repetitive words at the end are too monotonous, or does it enhance the "senses" theme?
I’m Looking Through My Pony’s Eyes
by Kym Eitel
Upon my palomino, I am riding. Riding.
Across the grassy paddock, we are gliding. Riding.
On wings, we’re flying, fluid motion,
rocking boat upon the ocean.
On winging hooves, escape to freedom. Riding.
I hear a willy wagtail chirping. Listen. Listen.
So clear and sweet, each song note seems to glisten. Listen.
Hooves are crunching, dogs are baying,
children laughing, horses neighing.
My leather saddle’s softly creaking. Listen.
I smell the trees and flowers as I’m breathing. Breathing.
The bitumen is hot, I smell it seething. Breathing.
Smell yellow sunshine in the air,
smell musky scent of horses’ hair.
I hear the horses sniffing, snorting, breathing.
My horse’s coat feels smooth and warm. I’m touching. Touching.
The firm but supple leather reins I’m clutching. Touching.
A sunny breeze is burning, prickling,
hairs across my face are tickling.
I bump another rider’s leg, we’re touching.
I’m happy, lucky, proud - that’s how I’m feeling. Feeling.
With joy my heart is bursting, soaring, reeling. Feeling.
My senses tingle through my fingers,
magic fills my heart and lingers.
Kaleidoscope of energy I’m feeling.
I feel the pony’s neck move as she’s looking. Looking.
The hills are green, the sky is blue. I’m looking. Looking.
I see them but I cannot see,
and so my pony looks for me.
I’m looking through my pony’s eyes. I’m looking.
Soft melody of hoof beats sounding.
I feel alive, my heart is pounding.
I’m looking through my pony’s eyes. I’m looking.
See ya's ... I'm off to write another one about a horse in the war based on a true story, "Taffy's Waiting"..
Kym.
I’m Looking Through My Pony’s Eyes
by Kym Eitel
Upon my palomino, I am riding. Riding.
Across the grassy paddock, we are gliding. Riding.
On wings, we’re flying, fluid motion,
rocking boat upon the ocean.
On winging hooves, escape to freedom. Riding.
I hear a willy wagtail chirping. Listen. Listen.
So clear and sweet, each song note seems to glisten. Listen.
Hooves are crunching, dogs are baying,
children laughing, horses neighing.
My leather saddle’s softly creaking. Listen.
I smell the trees and flowers as I’m breathing. Breathing.
The bitumen is hot, I smell it seething. Breathing.
Smell yellow sunshine in the air,
smell musky scent of horses’ hair.
I hear the horses sniffing, snorting, breathing.
My horse’s coat feels smooth and warm. I’m touching. Touching.
The firm but supple leather reins I’m clutching. Touching.
A sunny breeze is burning, prickling,
hairs across my face are tickling.
I bump another rider’s leg, we’re touching.
I’m happy, lucky, proud - that’s how I’m feeling. Feeling.
With joy my heart is bursting, soaring, reeling. Feeling.
My senses tingle through my fingers,
magic fills my heart and lingers.
Kaleidoscope of energy I’m feeling.
I feel the pony’s neck move as she’s looking. Looking.
The hills are green, the sky is blue. I’m looking. Looking.
I see them but I cannot see,
and so my pony looks for me.
I’m looking through my pony’s eyes. I’m looking.
Soft melody of hoof beats sounding.
I feel alive, my heart is pounding.
I’m looking through my pony’s eyes. I’m looking.
See ya's ... I'm off to write another one about a horse in the war based on a true story, "Taffy's Waiting"..
Kym.