So thinks the horse: don’t like; can’t look. Blind Horse. Own horse were horse enough but if you could put the flogging horse off…its hobby is to eat of me. Horses stalking a Trojan make sense: horses pack lead in your town; eat beggars. I’m hungry…Horse it! wild horse wishes. Ride a horse; choke a horse; drag a horse to Dead Horse Mouth. Wouldn’t a doctor as a gift get high as a horse? I would spare a good horse to cart a horse. You can colour the heaviest horse. Horses wink the dark drink away. One horse don’t water the horse. Nod before every different horse.
This poem is rather dark for a lighthearted poetry blog, but it was an accident, I swear!
Cut-out poetry is a really easy way to create poems: take any text, print it out, then cut out the words you want to use. In this instance, I took twenty-two of the twenty-five horse clichés I found here, and played around with them until I had used all the words. (I ignored three unfamiliar idioms, and changed ‘beat’ to ‘flogging’, as that’s how I know it.)
The words you have in front of you will direct your poem to a certain extent – hence the dark tone of mine – and that’s really helpful if you’re struggling to write.
You are allowed to use your own punctuation. Subtle changes can help e.g. I capitalised ‘dead/horse/mouth’ to make them a name/place.
If you have a go, using my suggested or your own found text, do please share in the comments. I’d love to see them!
To compensate for today’s miserable offering, I will post another horse poem tomorrow, much lighter in tone. It was written about ten years ago, when I was in a better mood 😉
You know I hate to complain but you ruined June again. Now you’re trying to kill July. Why? Must we yank out our passports and fly away to fairer lands, impairing the planet along the way? The solution is in your hands: move over for the sun so we can have some homespun fun. Be a sport!
Love, the Damp Populace of Stockport.
Fact: it rains a lot here. I’m scheduling this poem so I can’t guarantee it’ll appear on a rainy day; but chances are it will, because it rains a lot here. Did I mention that it rains a lot here?
(Mallory on the Mountain, Book, Music & Lyrics by Oliver Mills)
One wife. Three kids. Author. Teacher. But most of all, a hill besieger. Climbed Mount Everest because it was there; Broke his leg when he fell through the air. A man who never knew when to stop, Could he have been the first to reach the top? We’ll never know because he died alone. Took 75 years to find his bones. Though he’s a footnote in history, His legend’s one of great mystery.
If you don’t know this story, it’s fascinating: Mallory died on Everest in 1924, twenty-nine years before Norgay and Hillary made it to the summit. He promised to leave a photo of his wife at the top when he got there. His body was found in 1999 and most of his possessions were in good condition. The only belonging missing was a picture of his wife…did he make it to the top and leave it there? We’ll never know.