Poems

The Racehorse

Each morning he gets up

If it be cloudy or clear

He mounts his steed

And to the racetrack they speed

His steed is so white

White as the snow

And he who walks by

Will see him go

He floats over the earth

Like a lizard on dirt

And when he stops

He rumbles the Earth

She quivers

She shakes

And finally settles

Before the next race

When he spills all the kettles

They boil

And spew

And fall to the ground

Not ever seeing

What knocked them down

-Emily Krainski

Ode to the Wild Stallion

Within the limits all awry

There is a wind that fights the sky

It wraps itself into the brush

And forms a cold and lonesome hush

The weary wind still forms a figure

It wraps itself with solid vigor

And with a wild, savage shriek

It calls itself out from the meek

His strength and grace still make a sound

But in the wind it’s only drowned

He pounds the ground with pulsing hooves

And from the ground himself removes

He turns upon a solid heel

But seems to be a bit surreal

With no limits of tomorrow

He doesn’t show a bit of sorrow

Without the blinding of today

The future isn’t far away

And with his quick and agile power

In this new and coming hour

The leader of the land subsides

And waits to graze with heaving sides

He leads a herd that’s on the move

And with his mares he’s in the grove

The place they go has always been

So full of grass and green again

The stallion leads without a thought

Of all the horses he has fought

To get to where he is today

With his hooves upon the clay

-Emily Krainski