Those lumbering horses in the steady plough,
On the bare field-I wonder why, just now,
They seem terrible, so wild and strange,
Like magic power on the stony grange.
Perhaps some childish hour has come again,
When I watched fearful, through the blackening rain,
Their hooves like pistons in an ancient mill
Move up and down, yet seem as standing still.
Their conquering hooves which trod the stubble down
Were ritual that turned the field to brown,
And their great hulks were seraphim of gold,
Or mute ecstatic monsters on the mould.
And oh the rapture, when, one furrow done,
They marched broad-breasted to the sinking sun!
The light flowed off their bossy sides in flakes;
The furrows rolled behind like struggling snakes.
But when at dusk with streaming nostrils home
They came, they seemed gigantic in the gloam
And warm and glowing with mysterious fire
That lit their smouldering bodies in the mire.
Their eyes as brilliant and as wide as the night
Gleamed with a cruel apocalyptic light.
Their manes the leaping ire of the wind
Lifted with rage invisible and blind.
Ah, now it fades! It fades! And I must pine
Again for that dread country crystalline,
Where the black field and the still-standing tree
Were bright and fearful presences to me.
A big truck’s a work horse
Four wheelers are flies
and there’s one thing for sure
that a horse will despise
They buzz up to quickly
and get in your face
seems like the Damn things
are all over the place.
From behind you they’ll pass
then in front they’ll slow down
The whole freeway’s a circus
and the small car’s a clown.
You turn on the blinker
the signa stat (mechanical switch for turn signals in trucks) set
one pulls up beside you
you’re trapped in their net
She wont let you over
to let one get on
cause she thinks she’s a Queen
and you’re just a pawn.
The one that’s behind you
impatient and mad
calls in your truck
and says “you’ve been bad
Then suddenly it happens
You burst into rage
accellerator down
all horses engage!
The big truck breaks free
as it flies through the night
but then you see Disco’s (Red and blue police lights)
atop black and white!
It takes you a long time
to slow down and stop
you should have known better
but here comes the cop
You beg and you plea
and you try to explain
but he just hands you the ticket
and thinks you’re insane.
Then back at the yard
the job finally done
the moral of this story….
Relax and have fun.
Written by Greg Davis 🙂
if you had an idea whereabouts i could find the analysis for this poem i would appreciate it. thankyou
I really need to get this cos i dont understand how the horese relates to his childhood memories and his father.
i dont get the poem “horses”
brighta, Pearl and Karen try the teachers’ notes for some help