i want to hold the horse's string
cried the girl (three) stamping her foot
told by adults she was much too young
the black horse stood staring at the wall
it worries us you may get hurt
the adults whispered - meaning to offer
comfort to the little madam (not convinced)
the black horse stood staring at the wall
i'm stronger than any old black horse
the child shouted parading round the ring
thinking she was the star turn at the circus
the black horse stood staring at the wall
well i suppose.....take care ....ok
the adults muttered full of apprehension
the girl (three) poised - flexing her muscles
the black horse stood staring at the wall
now take the lead and grip it tight
they sighed fluttering hands like pigeons
she scoffed at the soft instructions
the black horse stood staring at the wall
it's easy-peasy lemon-cheesy
she triumphed (but doing as they asked)
the adults tried to swallow their fear
the black horse stood staring at the wall
so off to the man in the moon
the girl (three) laughed jerking the lead
swelling to the size of a goddess
the black horse reared like pegasus's colt
don't wait for me - i could be ages
the girl (three) sang to the shrinking adults
as the black horse leapt above the wall
the flowering cherries and the church spire
when i'm a grown-up - then i'll come
was the last the adults heard as the horse
and the girl (three) changed into pinpoints
and the world collapsed to its dull old self
cried the girl (three) stamping her foot
told by adults she was much too young
the black horse stood staring at the wall
it worries us you may get hurt
the adults whispered - meaning to offer
comfort to the little madam (not convinced)
the black horse stood staring at the wall
i'm stronger than any old black horse
the child shouted parading round the ring
thinking she was the star turn at the circus
the black horse stood staring at the wall
well i suppose.....take care ....ok
the adults muttered full of apprehension
the girl (three) poised - flexing her muscles
the black horse stood staring at the wall
now take the lead and grip it tight
they sighed fluttering hands like pigeons
she scoffed at the soft instructions
the black horse stood staring at the wall
it's easy-peasy lemon-cheesy
she triumphed (but doing as they asked)
the adults tried to swallow their fear
the black horse stood staring at the wall
so off to the man in the moon
the girl (three) laughed jerking the lead
swelling to the size of a goddess
the black horse reared like pegasus's colt
don't wait for me - i could be ages
the girl (three) sang to the shrinking adults
as the black horse leapt above the wall
the flowering cherries and the church spire
when i'm a grown-up - then i'll come
was the last the adults heard as the horse
and the girl (three) changed into pinpoints
and the world collapsed to its dull old self
--Rg Gregory
Elaine is hosting Poetry Friday today over at Wild Rose Reader. Gallop on over . . . quick now, before the world collapses into its dull old self!
Still . . . I think you have time for one more horsey post, which you can find below. Read it, and then git!
Still . . . I think you have time for one more horsey post, which you can find below. Read it, and then git!
4 comments:
I loved everything to do with horses as a kid. During my horsey phase I collected horse statues, read horse books, and had an actual horse named Moonshine. This poem makes me want to dig out and read "Spurs for Suzanna" one more time.
I fully expected to see a picture of a little girl on one of those bouncy horses at the end of the poem. I remember watching the sheer joy of a little face imagining herself jumping over a wall.
I wasn't all that happy with my original selection, because I also pictured this little girl the way you do.
Hope this is better.
This poem is so appealing to me, because when I was in elementary school -- at assemblies and other places -- I used to imagine a winged horse flying in the big windows and me hopping on to be spirited away.
J
Hi, Jet. Great post. Thank you for sharing this. The students I'm visiting were working on portrait poems -- responses to photos and magazine clippings -- this week. It's a lot for third graders to extend themselves and think "what might be happening here," but a great exercise in teaching compassion for others.
Post a Comment