Hello Arthur,
             This one is not for me. There´s nothing wrong with the language, but the subject doesn´t appeal, which of course is a purely personal thing. Animal poems as such are not my favourites and I find the angle here a bit too sentimental. Others may well feel differently.


Best wishes,   Mike




--- Alkuperäinen viesti ---

  Survivor: Comanche

 

The battle sounds had ceased

the victorious ululations faded

the gelding Comanche 

waited patiently obedient

beside the still body of his master

the bullet and arrow wounds upon his flanks

crusted with flies

twitch of withers

the hoof drawn across the ground

the loving snicker

urged no response.

 

Two days later 

they came and found Comanche

saddle swung under his belly

still as a statue 

carved from anthracite

dead Keogh beside him.

 

Sole survivor of Little Big Horn

who knew all 

but could tell nothing.

 

Pied with scars

that bought

free pastures now

and free to go where he might

unsaddled and beloved

a bucket of beer on payday

or unbidden

as Lily Bolero rang 

quietly emerging 

from the shadows of the fort 

to take his place

on every big parade

and lead them all

with rolling eye and arching neck

and soft full flow of mane.