This is another of my emblem poems, written over the last couple of years. The full imaged emblem poem cannot be displayed properly on this stie. If you wish to view it, please go to
Blazing Mustang
Blazing Mustang
The mustang mustered prickly prairie dry,
In high rebellion `gainst the twilight nigh,
Before the moon disposed coyote howl;
O, mighty mustang with your formless cowl!
Since foalish days (beneath such cloudless skies
That vultures hovered with their raptured eyes),
The mustang learned the nature of the plains,
It's grace unlocked in evolutions's pains,
Where windswept whirlwinds whirl their fairy dust
Below the mountaintops beyond, in crust,
While most, of many, dare not venture far.
But, not the foal in frisky, frolicked jar,
As jittered flexions masked his youthful glee
And terror of survival tested free
The instincts deep within that foal would need
In much of life...the bread requiring earthly, plastered knead.
One minor scar upon this stallion's neck,
Testimony to harsh cougars's wreck
That punched a bleeder near jugular's vein
Before the colt could gallop, after feign,
Beneath the pine coned branch's mantled pine
Along the prairie's bordered, sanctioned line.
Survive, he did, amidst the dust and brown
With passion's heart adorned as blazing crown
Atop this stallion's soul - eternal rest,
Beneath the midday sun, but dreamer's quest,
And mustangs dream not dreams within the nest.
But, nightmares, too, are dreamer's dreams denied -
Such tranquil peace this mustang knew, belied
Myth that beastly lives determine, not,
Serenity's sweet sorrow, deftly wrought.
Across the plains, this mighty steed was prince,
His courtly presence truly honored, since,
He reigned supreme within the prairie's cove,
His sinewed shoulders, he so boldly hove.
Majestic eyes, ablaze with fire's light,
Above flared nostrils thirsting for a fight,
With honed hooves sculptured by the anvil's stones -
The mustang crushed, on crucible, all bones.
Withholding judgement, cruel, the mustang stepped
Around the rattler coiled so not inept,
And thought, not once, about that vermin, cold,
Until such time, again, that reptile old.
Such sculptured beauty, Master artists, vain,
Attempted mimic onto canvas pane
But nothing born can capture mustang's hue,
Save brushes handset in eternal pew.
No filly, pure, deserted by his side,
His harem chosen by his sense's guide,
The yearning, strong, from nature's calling hum
For vigor's vital strain, survivor's sum,
Expunged in vibrant climax - rapture's peak ;
No sadness shed for lesser of the weak.
Without an auditory note, the steed
Dismounted mare and, so, returned to feed
Upon the grasses, green from showers sprung
From springtime schooner's sails aloft and hung
To dry below the solar sentry's guard.
Ah, splendor, thy is wonder to the bard
In heat! In driven passions poised postpartum, I
Behold the wonders to behold and cry
Tears wilted by a timeless, tangled thought, through
Mimed motives on tiptoed tightrope, taught.
Beyond the missive, dire, beyond myself;
Within the living being known as self,
Lies light, compassion's bright and brilliant rays,
On tiny tot that He, above, conveys.
Copyright © 2003 Robert L Tremblay