White Horses
A Villanelle
The writing prompt I set this week for my writing group was a picture of horses galloping in surf. This poem, written as a demonstration of a simple villanelle, arose from it.
Walk with me where curlew cry,
Where waves run ceaseless to the sand
Below a clear and endless sky.
Retreat, advance: waves’ quiet sigh
Grows loud along the cliff-edged strand
Beside the shore where curlew cry.
White froth of waves curling high:
Poseidon’s horses come to land
Beneath a close and clouded sky.
Four white horses, heads held high;
The sea god lifts his ruling hand.
The curlew rise to wheel and cry.
Four stallions rear; the waves comply;
Poseidon thunders his command;
Lightning splits the roiling sky.
Like the seabirds, we must fly
To refuge on some higher land.
Or walk no more where curlew cry
Below a changing, fickle sky.
I love it, and doubly because I'm a horse person!