Makeup Off, Spurs On

Sometimes I’m struck with something to write and I must stop what I’m doing and get it down in the moment, otherwise I’ll lose the thought altogether. That is how this poem came to be. I was cleaning Gangster’s stall, thinking about my messy hair shoved under a hat, my warm scarf slightly choking me, and my puffy red jacket pulling the whole outfit together in something that looked more like “Got dressed in the dark,” than “Moderately talented horsewoman.” How come you never see those crazy barn looks on Instagram? I only ever see piles of turquoise on crisp-collared shirts without a speck of hay. So it is with these thoughts in mind that I give you the below poem.

Makeup Off Spurs On Cowgirl Horseback Poetry

Makeup Off, Spurs On

I’m a little leery of anyone who looks too good while riding

Lipstick smear-free

Hair perfectly coifed

Clothes styled straight out of a magazine.

Because that’s rarely how I look.

And I’d like to believe I didn’t spend much time on my face

Because I’m spending the time on my riding.

Makeup off.

Spurs on.

Ready to work.

No trendy vest and wild rag,

But I’m warm enough in this old coat.

And I can get warmer at a posting trot.

No long luscious hair flying behind me,

I’d hate to untangle all those knots later.

But my circles look good.

Big and fast.

Small and slow.

If you compliment my riding

Over how I look

I’d like that better anyway.

 

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Makeup Off Spurs On A Poem For Horsewomen Horse lovers Cowgirls Horseback Riders

Horses As a Memory: Saying Good bye

Some dear friends of mine recently had to put down their 26 year old Arabian horse who had 11 national championships, 8 reserve national championships and was truly part of their family. One of the original horses of their herd, a special horse who elevated the riding skills of all of his riders and remained wild at heart into his 26th year. Losing a horse is hard enough, but saying good bye to the ones who become family is downright depressing.

I wrote the below poem in honor of all of the horses who touch our lives and then leave this world. Really it seems, for the truly special ones, any departure would always be too soon. They add so much to our lives that can’t be quantified, can’t be explained, can only be hinted at with words. Tonight when I say my prayers, I’ll be praying for plenty more time with my own horse.

Saying Goodbye To A Champion Arabian Horse
A quiet moment to say goodbye. Photo courtesy of Kristi Defoe-Stewart

Horses As a Memory

Horses aren’t just animals

They are memories

A memory of your youth

A memory of the person you used to be

A memory of family now gone

 

So when the twilight of life

Reflects in your old friend’s eyes

And you know the time has come

To say good bye

 

Know the tears on your cheek

And the sadness in your heart

Are proof of the wonder you shared

And a magic you still seek

 

The sun will deliver a newborn foal

And despite your own protests

That new horse will capture your soul

So you’ll sign on

For one more ride

Of great memories while still on this side

 

Feel free to share with anyone who might cry a little and laugh at the truth of it and feel a little better for remembering the equine friend they had to say good bye to.

Horses As A Memory Poem Saying Goodbye To A Horse

Ode to The Horse Widower

You’ve heard of the horse whisperer, but have you heard of a “horse widower?” Urban Dictionary defines it as horse owners, usually women, who give their horses the best of everything and inevitably neglect their spouses. Ha ha, sounds about right.

The below poem was my very first blog post ever, but I thought sharing it before Valentine’s Day seemed fitting. You can send it to your sweetie and tell him even though you didn’t write it, it was written with him in mind. I hope you enjoy it and have a happy Valentine’s Day!

An Ode To The Horse Widower

If he wanted a cleaner house

A wife without hay in her hair and bra

If he didn’t want his truck used for moving hay

If he wouldn’t help move 1000’s of pounds of hay for me every few months

If he wanted a wife with a hot meal on the dinner table at 6pm and not at the barn until twilight

If these were the desires of my husband’s heart

He wouldn’t be with me.

Because my house is rarely clean.

You can always find hay in my hair, bra and other places

Sometimes it’s even sprinkled throughout our house

He got his truck so we could move hay

And someday haul horses

Moving hay is never fun, but he smiles his wry smile, gives me a wink and pretends to hate me for it

Thank God for crock pots and a husband who supports my independent nature

Supports his wife who regularly spends hours at the barn instead of at home

The desires of my husband’s heart are a happy and passionate wife

God bless my husband.

 

Horse Husband Horse Widower
This photo captures our relationship perfectly: me, hands-on-hips, ready to get something done, and my adoring husband kicked back ready to relax with our dogs. Photo courtesy of Mike McCracken

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Ode To The Horse Widower Poem

Ode To My Husband

If he wanted a cleaner house

A wife without hay in her hair and her bra

If he didn’t want his truck used for moving hay

If he wouldn’t help move 1000’s of pounds of hay for me every few months

If he wanted a wife with a hot meal on the dinner table at 6pm and not at the barn until twilight

If these were the desires of my husband’s heart

He wouldn’t be with me.

Because my house is rarely clean.

You can always find hay in my hair, bra and other places

Sometimes it’s even sprinkled through our house

He got his truck so we could move hay

And some day haul horses

Moving hay is never fun, but he smiles his wry smile, gives me a wink and pretends to hate me for it

Thank God for crock pots and a husband who supports my independent nature

Supports his wife who regularly spends hours at the barn instead of at home.

The desires of my husband’s heart are a happy and passionate wife

And a shared love of the magic of horses.

God bless my husband.