the word horses instantly reminds me of the stables near my house. somtimes the horses walk down my street and deficate along the pavement. near my house there is also a bar called the stables, in which one of my sisters friend’s who looked like a horse got a job, quite hilariously. once she came on holiday with us, and me and my friend spend the whole time shouting HAY hows it going and HAY man at her. she didnt get it.
christy malyan
It begin with horses. They did not gallop but stood still in their fancy clothes, too heavy to run. It was then that I begin to muse. It was then that I thought of her more than ever before, and an onslaught of thoughts flooded me.
Perhaps everything that I said and did with her did not count as even a speck of dust in the great spectrum of her future. Perhaps our words were just ornaments to our troubled lives, and now, the holiday season was over, and it was time to doff our fancy fantasies.
Horses. In the valley. Free. Roaming. Care-free. A family of horses, a congregation of horses. Liberated. Unlike you & me.
Synne
are stupid chicks like em never eaten one ive heard that they can be though.
matt
I love watching horses. They roam with a freedom that I shall never know
Edson
I dont have any horses but if i Did I would ride them alot i woiuld get myself an awesome cape and as I rode by people would say look there goes that girl with the horses
Tess
Equus. Majestic creatures they are.
The driver of mankind.
Beautiful yet strong.
Wherever we are, they are.
sprecker
HORSES
FREE
LOVE
STRENGTH
BELIEF
FRIENDSHIP
LOVE
PAUL
EUGENE
TOGETHER
FOREVER
KISS
Evgenia
The horses ran down the boardwalk, trampling the peanut shells beneath their hooves. People dove out of the way of the stampede thundering towards the beach, as the handler screamed, “Come back!”
Christina
Horses on the rise. Of all the horses on the rise, mine was the prize. Horse prizes.
Bob
the galloping thunderous thud, a stampede of concrete millipedes the size of horses’ dicks, trample and sample the flesh of these city streets, where the main course is sick.
horses r naturally brown in colour.dey r very helpfull 2 us.they carry lot of things from one lace to another.dey r also good for riding n dis is an amazing hobby 4 those who like to ride.it gives us relief while we ride .horses doesnt need much water than we everyday have
sravani
On horseback they came,
one horse after another,
a sea of horses,
men in costumes from afar,
bringing death and destruction from a far off land,
but from where and when did they come,
these sadist marauders,
on horses,
seeming so pretty,
but really,
not
they ride horses can canter there was a ppony named cassandra and she was very pretty. she had black hair and a mane with no white hairs in it she was also very fast and glitted loolol thats not really a word
skrye
“The horses ran free here at one time,” Laughing Bear spoke quietly but his words carried the weight of generations before him. “The clouds roamed by unhindered, the rains came and went with the seasons.” “And now?” Joanna asked as she looked out over the plains. “And now,” he sighed. “Now, everything walks in opposition. The clouds are stingy with their rain and the horses wear saddles and walk children around the paddock.”
Izolda
I have always feared horses. Their bulk, their brawn, their beauty. I never understood it, really. But something about their appearance strikes fear in my heart.
Skyina
why ride the cowboy when there is more than 4 legs involved? it is one of those things you do not think about but the song was interesting…..ride a cowboy not a horse so i thought it was funny to reverse that although kinda of sick right? i agree…
Looking4Purpose
like grey clouds
galopping thoughts
i try to find the well
there’s so many trees
where the wild horses hide
Horses ran across the field. They were brown and white. One looked pretty angry. I never liked horses. Horses are huge animals with hooves and attitude. Who would even give something like that to a kid?
RB
There were wild horses. It was the first time I’d seen them, running free, tails swishing in the wind. One of them stopped and looked at me and as we looked at each other I felt an apology coming to my lips
tkroache
‘Wild horses’, she thought, brushing the hair out of her eyes. It was a mantra, a saying, something to get her through the days in the cubicle. But lately it had become as dull as the office around her.
horses are fast creatures. they can be rode, for pleasure or for racing. they are transported around in boxes when it is too far for them to travel. they come in different colours.
James
The girl was crazy about horses, loved the smell of them, the feel of being high up in the saddle, carried away with the spirit of just beyond her control freedom.
gino
there went shooting down round the race track, his noble head high he leapt through the air I watched him. Pure Chance was his name, as He ran round again I saw that familiar gleam in his eye, like he knew he was a winner, like he knew he was the best.
Samantha
The sheer size of them, and the speed when they start to gallop can be terrifying when you don’t know what the hell you’re doing. But just the buzz of controlling another creature, until you realise that you really aren’t in control after all and it’s the horse that’s controlling you. I still don’t know whether I like them or not, but I certainly respect them.
Trace
a girl full of zeal and joy and adorable and impulsive and intelligent.
abhimanyu
All I can think of is some French song that says “horses” over and over on it. I found the song on a compilation compiled by David Byrne. Julien thought it was good and I was proud of myself for introducing a native to something from his own country. No wait, he liked a different song on that comp, not this one. Oh well.
Laurel
Horses. They have to be one of the most awe-inspiring animals out there. Not only is their strength mighty, but it seems as if every move is made in absolute elegance.
i did this already, but i didn’t talk about the wind.
i didn’t talk about riding up a mountain, under the trees that whispered and told me:
“it’s okay to make stories
about this creature you are riding.
it’s okay.
because they’re not true.
but they could be.”
that is my favorite sound in the world.
Kit
i’m riding again.
it’s been a really long time since i’ve had a regular ride, and i am so, so, so glad to be back on a horse –
so happy i’m failing to use capital letters, how weird is that?
once upon a time i would have hated to not use capital letters.
i’ve gotten weird.
i’m riding again, but i feel like every time i run into someone from equine sciences,
i don’t deserve to be.
they know more.
they know better.
i’m just a girl who loves horses, romanticizes them, knows nothing anymore.
i used to.
back when i used capital letters.
Kit
The black stallion is one of my first memories of horses. The visual of that black horse running across the sand of the beach, unforgettable. Or maybe that was black beauty, now I’m confused.
Marcus Chapman
Eine grüne Landschaft liegt im Morgentau und Morgendust und wird langsam von Sonnenstrahlen zum Leben erweckt. Ein Pferd steht auf der Weise und frisst das feuchte Gras.
They roamed free for as long as my family could remember. The paint horses on the far side of the mountain reach. Every so often we would see them. They would not be afraid, but rather look back defiantly; they knew we could not tame them and we knew they could not be broken.
you’re a horse you’re a horse little girl chewing on leaves and fine carrots, plump apricot orange like a sunset like a sunset. You gobble up with your horse mouth all my rumors and all your secrets I am sorry sorry
Kathryn
you’re a horse you’re a horse little girl chewing on leaves and fine carrots, plump apricot orange like a sunset like a sunset. You gobble up with your horse mouth all my rumors and all your secrets I am sorry sorry
Kathryn
the wild arabian pony trotted through the woods, mane flailing in the air and muscles flexing for each step.
In the parking lot, two horses trotted past us, trying to spot their own feet in the darkness. Their riders said things in walkie talkies and we just stared after them, rooted to our spots.
Jandean Deocampo
Emily loves them, but I’m not sure I understand. It’s an animal. What good is one animal? An animal capable of nothing more than a few temporary thoughts and a desire to live? I say cherish the humans. The ones who mean something.
the word horses instantly reminds me of the stables near my house. somtimes the horses walk down my street and deficate along the pavement. near my house there is also a bar called the stables, in which one of my sisters friend’s who looked like a horse got a job, quite hilariously. once she came on holiday with us, and me and my friend spend the whole time shouting HAY hows it going and HAY man at her. she didnt get it.
It begin with horses. They did not gallop but stood still in their fancy clothes, too heavy to run. It was then that I begin to muse. It was then that I thought of her more than ever before, and an onslaught of thoughts flooded me.
Perhaps everything that I said and did with her did not count as even a speck of dust in the great spectrum of her future. Perhaps our words were just ornaments to our troubled lives, and now, the holiday season was over, and it was time to doff our fancy fantasies.
Horses. In the valley. Free. Roaming. Care-free. A family of horses, a congregation of horses. Liberated. Unlike you & me.
are stupid chicks like em never eaten one ive heard that they can be though.
I love watching horses. They roam with a freedom that I shall never know
I dont have any horses but if i Did I would ride them alot i woiuld get myself an awesome cape and as I rode by people would say look there goes that girl with the horses
Equus. Majestic creatures they are.
The driver of mankind.
Beautiful yet strong.
Wherever we are, they are.
HORSES
FREE
LOVE
STRENGTH
BELIEF
FRIENDSHIP
LOVE
PAUL
EUGENE
TOGETHER
FOREVER
KISS
The horses ran down the boardwalk, trampling the peanut shells beneath their hooves. People dove out of the way of the stampede thundering towards the beach, as the handler screamed, “Come back!”
Horses on the rise. Of all the horses on the rise, mine was the prize. Horse prizes.
the galloping thunderous thud, a stampede of concrete millipedes the size of horses’ dicks, trample and sample the flesh of these city streets, where the main course is sick.
horses r naturally brown in colour.dey r very helpfull 2 us.they carry lot of things from one lace to another.dey r also good for riding n dis is an amazing hobby 4 those who like to ride.it gives us relief while we ride .horses doesnt need much water than we everyday have
On horseback they came,
one horse after another,
a sea of horses,
men in costumes from afar,
bringing death and destruction from a far off land,
but from where and when did they come,
these sadist marauders,
on horses,
seeming so pretty,
but really,
not
they ride horses can canter there was a ppony named cassandra and she was very pretty. she had black hair and a mane with no white hairs in it she was also very fast and glitted loolol thats not really a word
“The horses ran free here at one time,” Laughing Bear spoke quietly but his words carried the weight of generations before him. “The clouds roamed by unhindered, the rains came and went with the seasons.” “And now?” Joanna asked as she looked out over the plains. “And now,” he sighed. “Now, everything walks in opposition. The clouds are stingy with their rain and the horses wear saddles and walk children around the paddock.”
I have always feared horses. Their bulk, their brawn, their beauty. I never understood it, really. But something about their appearance strikes fear in my heart.
why ride the cowboy when there is more than 4 legs involved? it is one of those things you do not think about but the song was interesting…..ride a cowboy not a horse so i thought it was funny to reverse that although kinda of sick right? i agree…
like grey clouds
galopping thoughts
i try to find the well
there’s so many trees
where the wild horses hide
Horses ran across the field. They were brown and white. One looked pretty angry. I never liked horses. Horses are huge animals with hooves and attitude. Who would even give something like that to a kid?
There were wild horses. It was the first time I’d seen them, running free, tails swishing in the wind. One of them stopped and looked at me and as we looked at each other I felt an apology coming to my lips
‘Wild horses’, she thought, brushing the hair out of her eyes. It was a mantra, a saying, something to get her through the days in the cubicle. But lately it had become as dull as the office around her.
horses are fast creatures. they can be rode, for pleasure or for racing. they are transported around in boxes when it is too far for them to travel. they come in different colours.
The girl was crazy about horses, loved the smell of them, the feel of being high up in the saddle, carried away with the spirit of just beyond her control freedom.
there went shooting down round the race track, his noble head high he leapt through the air I watched him. Pure Chance was his name, as He ran round again I saw that familiar gleam in his eye, like he knew he was a winner, like he knew he was the best.
The sheer size of them, and the speed when they start to gallop can be terrifying when you don’t know what the hell you’re doing. But just the buzz of controlling another creature, until you realise that you really aren’t in control after all and it’s the horse that’s controlling you. I still don’t know whether I like them or not, but I certainly respect them.
a girl full of zeal and joy and adorable and impulsive and intelligent.
All I can think of is some French song that says “horses” over and over on it. I found the song on a compilation compiled by David Byrne. Julien thought it was good and I was proud of myself for introducing a native to something from his own country. No wait, he liked a different song on that comp, not this one. Oh well.
Horses. They have to be one of the most awe-inspiring animals out there. Not only is their strength mighty, but it seems as if every move is made in absolute elegance.
i did this already, but i didn’t talk about the wind.
i didn’t talk about riding up a mountain, under the trees that whispered and told me:
“it’s okay to make stories
about this creature you are riding.
it’s okay.
because they’re not true.
but they could be.”
that is my favorite sound in the world.
i’m riding again.
it’s been a really long time since i’ve had a regular ride, and i am so, so, so glad to be back on a horse –
so happy i’m failing to use capital letters, how weird is that?
once upon a time i would have hated to not use capital letters.
i’ve gotten weird.
i’m riding again, but i feel like every time i run into someone from equine sciences,
i don’t deserve to be.
they know more.
they know better.
i’m just a girl who loves horses, romanticizes them, knows nothing anymore.
i used to.
back when i used capital letters.
The black stallion is one of my first memories of horses. The visual of that black horse running across the sand of the beach, unforgettable. Or maybe that was black beauty, now I’m confused.
Eine grüne Landschaft liegt im Morgentau und Morgendust und wird langsam von Sonnenstrahlen zum Leben erweckt. Ein Pferd steht auf der Weise und frisst das feuchte Gras.
i haven’t ridden one in a long time but i will always remember the feeling i had when i would ride nothing in the world could top that feeling
They roamed free for as long as my family could remember. The paint horses on the far side of the mountain reach. Every so often we would see them. They would not be afraid, but rather look back defiantly; they knew we could not tame them and we knew they could not be broken.
you’re a horse you’re a horse little girl chewing on leaves and fine carrots, plump apricot orange like a sunset like a sunset. You gobble up with your horse mouth all my rumors and all your secrets I am sorry sorry
you’re a horse you’re a horse little girl chewing on leaves and fine carrots, plump apricot orange like a sunset like a sunset. You gobble up with your horse mouth all my rumors and all your secrets I am sorry sorry
the wild arabian pony trotted through the woods, mane flailing in the air and muscles flexing for each step.
In the parking lot, two horses trotted past us, trying to spot their own feet in the darkness. Their riders said things in walkie talkies and we just stared after them, rooted to our spots.
Emily loves them, but I’m not sure I understand. It’s an animal. What good is one animal? An animal capable of nothing more than a few temporary thoughts and a desire to live? I say cherish the humans. The ones who mean something.