Found Objects Poetry Challenge: Day 20

Welcome to Day Twenty of Laura Shovan‘s  challenge consisting  of found objects.  I am thrilled to be hosting today and will check back in the early afternoon.

About my photo.  This was taken in a section of Portland, OR called Sellwood.  It’s in front of a favorite restaurant, Papa Haydn.  If you want a great dessert, this is the place.

 

So apparently, Portland being Portland, leaving these little horse statues is a thing. You have to look closely to see that the horse is tied to a horse ring.  In fact, one can find them throughout the city. It’s also know as the Portland Horse Project.  The horse rings also have quite the history.

tiny horse
keeps Portland weird
in the rain

© 2016 Jone Rush MacCulloch all rights reserved

Looking forward to what Saturday poems show up here.

Donna Smith shares her horse crazy love:
Horsepower

I breathe life into
My smokey gray
dappled steed.
He’s a prancer,
A dancer;
Hooves clack
and smack
the concrete.
I ride, my hand
On his back,
And we fly like
The wind
To the edge
Of the sidewalk
And back,
Until we reach the river.
He drinks the cool water;
I give him some oats.
I eat beans
From a tin plate
By the blazing campfire
Until the coyotes howl;
And I know it is time
To go inside.
I tuck my horse
into my pocket.

©2016, Donna JT Smith, all rights reserved

Margaret Simon said this photo inspired her to write a verse for her verse novel she’s writing. The MC collects these horses:

The Game of Horses

She names all her horses after food–
Butter, Cocoa, Muffin.
She says, I don’t know how
to tell you my pain.
I pick up the grey stallion
with the fluffy white mane,
the one she calls Cupcake,
dance him across the hills
of her legs, trying to hear
some lilt in her voice,
to deliver her away
from pain she knows well
to the children we both were
before cancer
when playing “Horses”
was a serious game.

–Margaret Simon

Linda Baie commented that they have cows all over Denver not little horses.  I love that each city has  something unique:

Time-ly Tale

First-a little help to ride
with Momma standing by her side.
Then it was an easy hop,
And rocking, rocking wouldn’t stop.
The next years found me by myself,
books replaced me on her shelf.
A room re-do, forced to the rear
of a closet corner, a lost career.
Today, I’m standing here forlorn,
Waiting, ready to be re-born.
Toddler twos will be my friend
to rock ‘n ride till another end.

Linda Baie ©All Rights Reserved

Over at Laura Shovan’s blog, Jessica Bigi left this story poem. I love the connection of the coin to the past and the carousel horses.:

Mysteries (Coin)-as in money
I can only imagine how it ended up on our sidewalk. Spokes of wagon wheels traveling from hundreds of years ago. A treasure chest from a ship that sailed an enchanted river. As the sun hit the round object A silvery shine caught my eyes. I ran over to where it lay, reached down and grabbed it with my fingers. Rusty from age it felt like sandpaper. Where did it come from? I thought as I ran to Granddad’s house with my found treasure like gold in my hand. Who could have dropped it? Some ancient Egyptian king? Or someone that studies dinosaurs? A queen of some royal city? All I know was it was mine now. “Granddad! Look what I found on our sidewalk.”
“This is very old,”he said as he opened up a big book of rare coins.
“Do you think it is worth a lot of money?” I asked.
“Son,” he said, “It is so rare that I can’t find it in my book.”
We both looked at it through his magnifying glass.
“Look at this!” granddad said. On one side of the coin it said free ride. And on the other side of the coin was a horse. Granddad just smiled. “Ah, I remembered these,” he said as he ran upstairs. “I’ll be back,” he said. When he got back he was holding a dusty box. “I still have a few of these coins,” he said. “Son get your coat.”
“Where are we going granddad?”
“It’s a surprise,” he said. We got into his car. It seemed like we drove forever. “Where’s this place has so many happy memories,” he said. We had driven to a park that I have never seen before.
“What does this park have to do with my coin?” I asked. Granddad told me that this is where he met my grandmother. His eyes teared up when before us should this beautiful old carousel. Granddad smiled. “I think it takes quarters now but when I was younger these tokens like the one you found would pay for the ride. When your grandmother and I were teenagers we spent many summer and fall day riding on the magical horses. I liked the one that looked like a lion.”
After that day Granddad brought me back to the carousel. Now that I am older I bring my own wife and others. And I have such a beautiful magical story that all starts with a coin with a hours on one side. What a wonderful treasure I found I think.

 

Here’s Charles Waters poem,

THE GALLOPING GHOST

Galloping on straw colored blades of tufted grass,

bone and sinew flexing their power,

horse hair swaying in staccato breeze,

racing toward the welcoming tangerine sun,

freer than Martin Luther King on the Mountaintop.

These images: “staccato breeze, tangerine sun, and freer than Martin Luther King on the Mountaintop.”

I was giddy with this poem from Carol

Giddy-up Delight

Tiny, old-fashioned ponies
tethered to a ring
grace the streets of Portland
as a usual thing.
Bemused by horsey antics
on the streets of town
I thought of childhood memories
and carousels renowned.
©CVarsalona, 2016

 

Here’s tomorrow’s prompt, contributed by Matt Forrest Esenwine:

I can’t believe that we’re heading into the final week.  Wow!

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