Wild
Published by GHC • Jul 3rd, 2009 • Category: Poetry, by Peanutby Peanut, age 9
They live in the fields, open blue skies
Not thinking ’bout life, or how they want to die
The trees surround them, their forest, their home
A fence now surrounding the lot they used to roam.
The sound of yelling men, sound across the plain,
Cowboys on their horses, equipped with rope and rein,
Their instincts tell them it’s time to leave and run,
The grass tore up behind them, the hot, scorching sun.
The ropes land round their necks, they buck and rear, nowhere do they get.
As their strangled cries of fear ring across the field, the sun sets.
They now know what to do, the cowboys thought they gave up,
They ate no food from the bowls, water from the cups.
If they can’t be free, they would rather die,
So by the early morning, they’re gone without a cry.
Champion Peanut! Beautiful just beautiful. Your poem poetically describes the freedom that the wild horses yearn for that they are willing to die for it. Sort of reminds of of the horse animation movie “Spirit”
~HF
Wow, Peanut! I love this. I can see the whole thing as I read it, every detail. Great job, you are an amazing writer.
Peanut you are such an awesome writer! Beautiful poem! =)
Speachless! Just speachless! Awesome job!! You beautifuly discribed the freedom that wild horses have. Great poem!
I saw the horses rearing in my mind. I saw the ropes flying through the air. I saw the mustangs wheeling in the pens. Wow. All this from such a young rider.
Wow! That’s a great poem. You are such a great writer. My story for the contest is about a wild horse also.
Wow!I love your poem Peanut!It reminds me of a saying on a phantom stallion book: How can you capture a free spirit? Beautiful!!!
Awesome poem :] You write really well
This poem is extraordinary! I’m constantly amazed at how you can so amazingly write about topics usually unexplored by someone your age. In this case, you’ve captured the noble spirits of wild horses perfectly. I can see their beauty, their strengths, their persistence. You’ll no doubt be a famous poet someday. It’s an absolute privilege to read your work.