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.