The smell of alfalfa rises in the dusty air, the scent of leather and horses to accompany. The taste of salt on my lips and the sun beating down on my back. I can hear my family outside underneath the sound of hooves thundering across the ground. Work is finished as I gather up the gear. Outside I am met with nickers and sounds of joy. As I put on our gear I feel a nose soft and warm against my head. I pet that nose as I finish tacking up. My family joins me with their companions and off we run. The wind whistles at us as we fly past, that sweet smell of horse wafting up on the breeze we make. The feel of pure muscle working beneath you, with you, makes the heart burst with joy. The feeling of being free consuming all of you. Stopping only to catch a breath and home again. Untack and relax sharing an orange soda with your horse as the sun sets on another amazing summer day. Work and play all year long but there is no feeling than sweet summer sweat.
A contest entry
- Summer Poem by Mortal.
900 points, ended October 9, 2008, 30 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Not to break up your pretty image, my friend, but this is not a poem. This is prose. A poem has line breaks and well-placed phrases. This is a paragraph. Also, being the co-judge of Foolish Mortal's contest, I'm just going to say on her behalf: this is a good piece of writing, but it's too literal. My friend the contest judge was looking for something that used summer as a metaphor or something abstract; she wasn't looking for entries like this, which painted a good picture but didn't have anything beyond that. As nice as it is, I'm not sure it's what we're looking for in this contest, but good luck anyways.
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