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Blazing Mustang T he mustang mustered prickly prairie dry, in high rebellion m ‘gainst the twilight nigh, before the oon disposed coyote howl; O, mighty c mustang with your formless owl! Since foalish days (beneath such cloudless skies that vultures hovered with their raptured eyes), the mustang learned the nature of the plains, it’s grace unlocked in evolutions’s pains, where windswept whirlwinds whirled their fairy dust below the mountaintops beyond, in crust, while most, of many. dared not venture far. But, not the foal, in frisky, frolicked jar, as jittered flexions masked his youthful glee and terror of survival tested free the instincts deep within that foal would need in much of life...the bread requiring earthly, plastered knead. One minor scar upon this stallion’s neck, testimony to harsh cougars’s wreck that punched a bleeder near jugular’s vein before the colt could gallop, after feign, beneath the pine coned branch’s mantled pine along the prairie’s bordered, sanctioned line. Survive, he strived, amidst the dust and brown, with passion’s heart adorned as blazing crown atop this stallion’s soul; eternal rest, beneath the midday sun, but dreamer’s quest, and mustangs dream not dreams within the nest. But, nightmares, too, are dreamer’s dreams denied – such tranquil peace this mustang knew, belying myth that beastly lives determine, not, serenity’s sweet sorrow, deftly wrought. Across the plains, this mighty steed was prince, his courtly presence truly honored, since, he reigned supreme within the prairie’s cove, his sinewed shoulders, he so boldly hove. Majestic eyes, ablaze with fire’s light, above flared nostrils thirsting for a fight, with honed hooves sculptured by the anvil’s stones – the mustang crushed, on crucible, all bones. Withholding judgement, cruel, the mustang stepped around the rattler coiled so not inept and thought, not once, about that vermin, cold, until such time, again, that reptile old. Such sculptured beauty, Master artists, vain, attempted mimic onto canvas pane but nothing born can capture mustang’s hue, save brushes handset in eternal pew. No filly, pure, deserted by his side, his harem chosen by his sense’ guide, the yearning, strong, from nature’s calling hum for vigor’s vital strain, survivor’s sum, expunged in vibrant climax - rapture’s peak ; no sadness shed for lesser of the weak. Without an auditory note, the steed dismounted mare and, so, returned to feed upon the grasses, green from showers sprung from springtime schooner’s sails aloft and hung to dry below the solar sentry’s guard. Ah, splendor, thou is wonder to the bard! In driven passions poised postpartum, I behold the wonders to behold and cry tears wilted by a timeless, tangled thought, through mimed motives on tiptoed tightrope, taught. Beyond the missive, dire, beyond myself; within the living being known as self, lies light, compassion’s bright and brilliant rays, on tiny tot that He, above, conveys. Copyright © February 2003 Robert L Tremblay |
Additional Notes:
Blazing Mustang (unformatted)
The mustang mustered prickly prairie dry,
In high rebellion ‘gainst the twilight nigh,
Before the moon disposed coyote howl;
O, mighty mustang with your formless cowl!
Since foalish days (beneath such cloudless skies
That vultures hovered with their raptured eyes),
The mustang learned the nature of the plains,
It’s grace unlocked in evolutions’s pains,
Where windswept whirlwinds whirl their fairy dust
Below the mountaintops beyond, in crust,
While most, of many, dare not venture far.
But, not the foal in frisky, frolicked jar,
As jittered flexions masked his youthful glee
And terror of survival tested free
The instincts deep within that foal would need
In much of life…the bread requiring earthly, plastered knead.
One minor scar upon this stallion’s neck,
Testimony to harsh cougars’s wreck
That punched a bleeder near jugular’s vein
Before the colt could gallop, after feign,
Beneath the pine coned branch’s mantled pine
Along the prairie’s bordered, sanctioned line.
Survive, he did, amidst the dust and brown
With passion’s heart adorned as blazing crown
Atop this stallion’s soul – eternal rest,
Beneath the midday sun, but dreamer’s quest,
And mustangs dream not dreams within the nest.
But, nightmares, too, are dreamer’s dreams denied –
Such tranquil peace this mustang knew, belied
Myth that beastly lives determine, not,
Serenity’s sweet sorrow, deftly wrought.
Across the plains, this mighty steed was prince,
His courtly presence truly honored, since,
He reigned supreme within the prairie’s cove,
His sinewed shoulders, he so boldly hove.
Majestic eyes, ablaze with fire’s light,
Above flared nostrils thirsting for a fight,
With honed hooves sculptured by the anvil’s stones –
The mustang crushed, on crucible, all bones.
Withholding judgement, cruel, the mustang stepped
Around the rattler coiled so not inept,
And thought, not once, about that vermin, cold,
Until such time, again, that reptile old.
Such sculptured beauty, Master artists, vain,
Attempted mimic onto canvas pane
But nothing born can capture mustang’s hue,
Save brushes handset in eternal pew.
No filly, pure, deserted by his side,
His harem chosen by his sense’s guide,
The yearning, strong, from nature’s calling hum
For vigor’s vital strain, survivor’s sum,
Expunged in vibrant climax - rapture’s peak ;
No sadness shed for lesser of the weak.
Without an auditory note, the steed
Dismounted mare and, so, returned to feed
Upon the grasses, green from showers sprung
From springtime schooner’s sails aloft and hung
To dry below the solar sentry’s guard.
Ah, splendor, thy is wonder to the bard
In heat! In driven passions poised postpartum, I
Behold the wonders to behold and cry
Tears wilted by a timeless, tangled thought, through
Mimed motives on tiptoed tightrope, taught.
Beyond the missive, dire, beyond myself;
Within the living being known as self,
Lies light, compassion’s bright and brilliant rays,
On tiny tot that He, above, conveys.
Copyright © February 2003 Robert L Tremblay
This Poem was Critiqued By: Regis L Chapman On Date: 2004-01-20 17:09:42
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 8.70000
I know that on the surface, this piece is about a horse, but then I thought of the car, the Mustang by Ford and thought more of it. It seems like something like America and the Industrial Revolution and the car and so on as an analogue. Anyway, my idea of it, but it seems to make sense. Another really exceptionally written piece. This style really works for you, man. I have seen nothing but great reviews and it's hard to pick any of your works apart at all, other than the graphic part, which is mainly a personal prejudice on my part.
Thanks,
REEG!