The Field — A Sonnet

Through yonder window look I to the field
And all the lovely grass it there doth yield,
And realize, too, the bounty of my life:
More of joyful mirth; less of toil and strife.
And to the Scribe do I attribute this
As on my nose each day she plants a kiss,
And lavishes on me such carrots sweet —
And apples too are such a tempting treat.

My life the verdant field doth reflect
Full flush with love in one or more aspect.
For with each day such blessings ‘pon me pour
There is no doubt the beauty of life’s store.
And glad am I for each day fate has sealed
As I look through the window to the field.

*

Shakespeare in the field -- Photo: Dorothy McDonall

I’ve been on a brief writing hiatus. Sometimes the muse (and Scribe, go figure) just needs a break. One cannot rush, nor force, creativity.

While enjoying this break from the rigors of creative industry the Scribe became re-acquainted with the sonnets of my namesake. And thus, while meandering the verdant field in search of tender grassy morsels, I began to muse in 14-line formal rhyme schemes with 10 syllables per line.

Herewith my first attempt at sonnet writing. Read and enjoy and perhaps, when the mood strikes, I shall dream up another.

See you anon in Poet’s Paddock!

Shakespeare “The Equine”

Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2011. All rights reserved.

Advertisements

Away

The Scribe’s away.
I’m on my own.
She is so far
Away from home.
But not for long
She’ll be back soon
And then I’ll jump
Over the moon.

*

I know, a weak attempt, but the Scribe is away and I’m left here figuring this out all on my own. It’s a challenge. The only apple I’m familiar with is the one you eat!

See you next time in Poet’s Paddock … with Scribe in tow.

Shakespeare “The Equine”

Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2011

The Call

Shakespeare -- Photo: Dorothy McDonall

I heard a cry
Upon the breeze,
It leapt and glanced
O’er grass; through trees.
It was a song
Unto my ears,
Meant very little
To my peers.
It mattered not
To them, you see
This clarion call
That came for me.
A voice as sweet
As any heard,
One might of thought
It was a bird.
The sweetest bird
That ever sang
Whose tune for me
Alone it rang.
Its lyrical notes
Upon the air,
My darling Scribe
Entreating “Bear!”

*

It’s a moment of magic when the Scribe calls my name.

It doesn’t matter if I’ve been turned out five minutes or five hours, when I hear her call me I cannot resist. Her voice is the Siren — I must follow it to the warm pat and tempting carrot that awaits.

Sam, my paddock mate, is jealous. He always wants to hone in on my girl. She brings him a treat as well so he doesn’t feel left out, and this makes him reasonably content. However, occasionally he’ll crowd the gate as I’m leaving and give me a playful nip on the bum as if to say, “Way to go, buddy!” He’s such a kidder …

Yes, it’s hard to resist the call … except when I just want to be left alone with my muzzle buried in a patch of fresh spring grass. But that’s another story …

See you next time in Poet’s Paddock!

Shakespeare “The Equine”

All rights reserved. Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2011

Wash ‘n’ Wear

Shakespeare sports wash 'n' wear everywhere.

A bright spring day
It’s very warm,
Flies buzz around me
In a swarm.

The Scribe and I
Spend training time
In outdoor ring
With dust and grime.

When done are we
Sweaty am I,
My horse couture
Must bathe and dry.

So to the wash stall
Lumber we,
Anticipate
Relief, you see,

With water splashing
‘Pon my skin,
A wet and wild
State we’re in.

I feel refreshed
So too the Scribe;
Together then
We go outside.

Stand in the sun
Ourselves to dry,
And grass I eat
While Scribe stands by.

And muse, do we,
Without a care,
It’s easy when you
Wash ‘n’ wear.

*

I love the warmer weather, but it does have at least one drawback. Okay two … the annoying swirl of flies around my tummy (save me, mummy!) and humidity-driven sweaty workouts.

Last week we had a particularly hot and humid day for mid May. Flies buzzed busily around me while I was being groomed, which invariably lead me to kick at the little buzzers, which in turn inspired the Scribe to apply copious amounts of fly spray all over me. This was somewhat helpful.

We then trained for about 40 minutes, however that was enough to leave me slathered in sticky sweat. Like any good steward, the Scribe hosed me down in the wash stall to take care of my sweaty woes. The advantage of horse couture, of course, is its wash and wear-ability. Just ten minutes of watery bliss and brace and presto! — the icky stickiness was washed from my body, leaving me fresh as a daisy, delightfully damp and deliciously dapper.

As is our usual practice following a frolic in the wash stall, we ventured outdoors to bask in the sunshine — my nose buried in a mass of bright green spring grass and the Scribe running her free hand up and down my neck reminding me of her adoring presence.

I love these moments. A serenity of space and time; feeling good after a workout and in the presence of the one who knows and loves me best.

I’m one lucky horse.

See you next time in Poet’s Paddock!

Shakespeare “The Equine”


Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2011. All rights reserved.

Horse Couture

Shakespeare models Horse Couture

Spring has arrived
My coat’s a state.
No way to be
A fashion plate.

Hair’s falling here;
It’s falling there;
My coat’s in tatters.
Horses stare.

Cold season gone
And with it snow;
Last season’s coat
Has got to go!

A little help it
Needs, tis true,
As it feels stuck
To me like glue.

So, patiently I
Stand and smile
As Groom releases
Spring’s new style:

A shining coat
Of black and tan,
I feel quite
Cosmopolitan!

And of one thing
You can be sure,
My new Spring coat
Is Horse Couture!

*

No doubt about it, I’m feeling extraordinarily hip in my new Spring duds.

The blankets are done for the season, and the last of my thick Winter coat is being curried away in stages by the Scribe (aka Groom). Those pesky little hairs get everywhere, of course. I hear moderate complaints about hair up the nose and all over clothes, etc., but there’s nothing I can do about that. If you want me to look my dapper best then “Deal with it!” is all I have to say.

But really, is there anything more satisfying than stepping out into the world in your fancy new Spring finery to the admiring glances of those who can only dream of looking so handsome? (Yes, as a matter of fact, there is … a bucket full of carrots or grain; a mound of fresh hay; apple bobbing in the paddock trough; stud muffins; Timmie’s Cranberry & Blueberry Bran muffins … I could go on but I don’t want to change the subject … 😉 ).

Certainly I am feeling rather fine in my Horse Couture.

See you next time in Poet’s Paddock!

Shakespeare “The Equine”

Note: Fab photograph taken by Cary Andrew Penny, CAP Photographic Solutions, Spring 2010.

All rights reserved. Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2011

Spring

Shakespeare waits for spring

Spring is here;
Brings with it change.
My life and habits
Rearrange.

With paddocks closed
Alas, to dry,
Amuse myself in
Stall, must I

With dreams of fresh
Green grass to eat.
I count the days with
Stomping feet.

On warmer days
Bid rugs farewell
And feel sun on
My back a spell.

With joy I revel
In its beams,
As through the window
Pane it streams

Upon my shiny
New spring coat.
Handsome and dark,
But I won’t gloat.

And birds, they sing
Their song so sweet.
“Tweet! Tweet! Tweet! Chirp!
Tweet! Chirp! Tweet! Tweet!”

While buds appear
And set to bloom,
Adorning our great
Garden room.

Yes, I love spring
A time of joy.
Reminds me I’m
A lucky boy.

*

I do love the spring, although I must say this one is taking a long time to settle in. Such changeable and erratic weather patterns — rugs on one day; off the next. And we’re in that part of the season where the larger paddocks are closed and recovering from the perils of winter, so turnout is shorter as we all take turns in the smaller paddocks.

But the inconvenience is so temporary. One of these ever-finer days we’ll be back on all-day turnout languishing in the warmth of the sun. I’ll be bobbing for apples in the water trough (the Scribe promised), and we’ll be working outside and then enjoying the occasional soapy bath followed by extended periods of grazing with the Scribe at the other end of the lead shank. (I need to keep track of her somehow.)

Yes, spring is a special time of year full of hopeful anticipation of warmer days to follow.

I do love the spring.

See you next time in Poet’s Paddock!

Shakespeare “The Equine”

All rights reserved. Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2011

The Horse as Therapist — Part II

How may I help you ... ?

I love my ‘mother,’
Really I do,
But I’ve had to teach her
A lesson or two.

Live in the moment
Be patient; endure.
Don’t make a decision
Until you are sure.

Don’t worry the future;
Don’t dwell in the past,
Do open the present
Like each moment’s the last.

Work hard when you need to;
Take time to have fun.
Be open; be friendly;
And bask in the sun.

Be pampered by someone;
Have boundaries too.
Be playful; be happy;
Be alone when you stew.

Give what you can,
Learn when to say no,
Keep some for yourself,
Know when to let go.

Be kind, be consistent;
Be joyful, be free.
In other words, mother,
Be perfect like me.

*

What more is there to say on this particular subject? If our companion humans would be self-aware 100% of the time when they spend time with us their lives would be so much easier … and so would ours.

So much to teach them … so little time … I need a carrot!

See you next time in Poet’s Paddock …

Shakespeare “The Equine”

Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2011