You are getting closer.
I can hear the crunch of  soft sand
and the skitter of stones beneath your
The scent of tanned leather stings
my nostrils while fingers of steel butterflies inflict fresh flesh wounds.
Your feathered crop gently brushes shivering shoulders, floats over proud bones luring me to the killing fields.
Nothing can save me, there is no where to hide.
You have always known how to break wild horses.





95 thoughts on “Breaking Horses

    1. This is a restoration Diana. Sometimes I look back at poetry I wrote in the past and find either small or major tweaks that suit me better, at times additional verse makes sense. You will find these tagged or catagorizrd as “ poetry redux” or revisited. Thank you for the lovely compliment. ♥️

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      1. That is nice. Horses are so intelligent. My only experiences this way were in the childhood, and as it was told to me i cried heartmelting. 😉 Maybe i can get a possibility in future. Have a beautiful week.


  1. Holly, I am now humming “Wild Horses” by the Stones. Nicely done. Also, I am thinking of Kirsten Scott Thomas in “The Horse Whisperer.” Of course, my wife is thinking of Robert Redford. Keith

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  2. There is a profound lesson of life in these lines. The killing fields and nothing left to do speak of a fate many are led to and others choose. Life is consumed by those who come for us with purposes of their own. Once again, I am left in a thousand visions with your poetry.

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      1. I used to ride when I was a kid. I don’t anymore. I love to go to the pasture and watch them a lot! I don’t know if I could ride with my back the way it is now! But I sure want to with all my heart! ❤

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