The Thoroughbreds

by Regina

As the arthritic railbird spits out his chew,
the strong exercise rider slows the four  
year old stallion to a trot,
his muscular, mahogany body sweats,
prominent veins, flaring nostrils,
puffing out mist,
a toss of his head,
his hot walker awaits,
farrier's craft of light shoes on his hooves.

Don't have the Thoroughbreds parade to
the races anymore,
the pastures of buttercups so beckoning
in the April morning chill,
His dam still whinnies for him -
please, no more horses broken down,
no more jockeys falling to the earth,
Ruffian's shadow on the track,
she became immortal
that long and painful day,
July 7, 1975,
her groom leaned his head
on the doorway of her empty stall,
and, as usual,
the horse racing world went on.


Comments

MyNAh_27's picture
Hi Regina, Congratulations on another Member Poem award. I’m referring to your “She shyly brings light lantern” entry. Back to this week’s magnificent piece. A master class in vibrant imagery and story telling from your original pen. A haunting backdrop underpins each line. The very best of luck, MyNAh_27

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MaryPP's picture
I don't know too much about horses, but you surely do Regina. I love how you have written this story...the power and strength and the loss...you have great talent Regina. Best of luck to you. Mary

Mary PP

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