Friday, February 24, 2012

A Race

A poem I wrote:

The excitement building, we watch and wait
As the starter ascends unto his chair,
A stallion shuffles, behind the gate
The rider steadies him with care.

The noise subsides, the silence is heard
The riders stare between their horses ears
Perked and tense waiting for the word
Suddenly it comes and the air is rent with cheers.

From now till the end its one long cheer,
As the riders rush on down the track,
The beating of hooves, the thrill and fear
But the trumpet is blow, there is no turning back.

Bent bodies crouching, shouting voices
The stallion passes to the lead,
Past all the lashing whips and noises,
That characterizes this mass of steeds.

The stallion and bay the lead do take
The crowds loud roar rings up to the air
From the heights of the bleachers at the Stakes,
“On,” they cry, “win the race, if you dare!”

They’re neck and neck as they run down the course
 The onlookers whistling and applauding them fine
The stallion surges to the front by his pure force
And leaps across the finish line.