Sonnet XIII … A New Way of Being

Spring hath sprung and with it cometh a new lease on life.

“Springeth me from my box of winter blues, that I might fulfill the measure of my creation!”

Perchance a tad dramatic, yet tis time to embrace a new and more complete way of being in the world.

Anything else is so yesterday.


Sonnet XIII … A New Way of Being

To break out of one’s box, if truth be told,

Is not for faint of heart consumed with fear.

One must desire change; one must be bold

For new and wondrous blessings to appear.

And to this end one day did I aspire,

Embarking on a journey from my slump.

And from my ember rose into a fire

Where I didst gladly test myself, and jump.

With wings of Pegasus o’er course I flew

As heart didst bound with each and every stride.

And burning fire from timid ember grew

Til I no longer could my spirit hide.

Hence when into my box for rest I leapt

My heart no longer faint thus soundly slept.


See you anon in Poet’s Paddock!

Shakespeare “The Equine”

Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2012

Sonnet XII … Blue Bucket Blues

... A happier moment with my blue bucket ...

Consider — I asketh for so little … love, carrots, a roof over my head, carrots, a paddock in which to muse and play, carrots, hay at my feet, carrots, a little exercise every day, carrots, good friends and, yes, carrots.

So why, pray tell, hath my blue bucket been devoid of my favourite orange root vegetable for two long days?

The Scribe hath declared the Carrot Man — who usually delivereth the orange delicacy in giant sacks every Wednesday — is delinquent in his duty this week, and absolveth herself of all blame.

... How my blue bucket should look. I leaveth the alternative to your imagination ...

But, of a certain, yesterday she hath prior knowledge of my carrot deprivation and didst nothing, forthwith, to ensureth my appetite for said delights would be sated shouldst the Carrot Man, indeed, be delinquent in his duty today.

Alas disappointed, am I, in the Scribe’s lack of fore sight in this regard and, miserable with longing for my favourite treat, am thus inspired to share with you the …

Blue Bucket Blues

This is a day that I won’t soon forget

Tis forged upon my mind as on a stone.

For ‘pon this day a moment of regret

As stood I here and sulked all on my own.

For there beyond the tack room’s open door

A void as large as any hole so black,

Where once a pile of orange did grace the floor

Now lies a torn and empty carrot sack.


... If my blue bucket is empty, shall I not give thee the hairy eyeball? ...

Woe unto me for sad it is I am

My bucket blue sits idle on the shelf.

Commiserate I with my buddy, Sam,

At least in friendship I can count my wealth.

And while I brood dip I my nose to hay,

Tomorrow is, perchance, another day.


See you anon in Poet’s Paddock!

Shakespeare “The Equine”

Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2012

My Day Off

While I muse upon my next sonnet, please enjoy…

My Day Off

Musing early morning’s light
I yawn and stretch away the night.
It’s my day off to be a horse,
And do what horses do, of course.

So, first light throws a flake of hay,
A tasty way to start the day,
Soon followed by a scoop of grain —
My stomach’s happy once again.

Then to the paddock I am bound
Where Sam is always to be found.
We re-acquaint and squeal and snort,
Our pecking order we must sort.

I usually win as he concedes,
Prefers to fill his stomach’s needs.
So after tag and gleeful fun
We’ll graze and snooze under the sun.

That is unless it rains, of course,
That’s when we get to play “Sea Horse:”
See horse splashing watery spray;
See horse roll in mud all day.

When day is done, into the barn
We go to share a yawn and yarn.
The day of rest goes oh, so fast.
Why do the good things never last?


See you anon in Poet’s Paddock!

Shakespeare “The Equine”

Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2012

Horse Couture

Another flight of fancy …

Spring hath arrived early in Poet’s Paddock and with it many changes, among them the unveiling of my new spring coat.

Herewith my whimsical thoughts on the matter …

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.
People stare.

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

A little help I
Need, tis true,
As horse hair coat
Seems stuck like glue.

So, patiently I
Stand a while
As Groom unveils
Spring’s new style:

A shining coat
Of black and tan —
I feel quite

And of this look
We can be sure,
My new spring coat
Is Horse Couture!


See you anon in Poet’s Paddock …

Shakespeare “The Equine”

Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2012

Sonnet XI … The Wind We Chase

Perchance my thoughts tend too much toward the weather. However, since my days are spent much in contact with volatile meteorological patterns whilst musing in Poet’s Paddock, they doth influence and inspire, and so I must follow my muse.

Herewith some thoughts on wind …

Sonnett XI

The blues of winter colour weary mind

Reflecting all that’s grey amid the snow.

The weather, thus, hath not been very kind;

No wonder birds to warmer climates go.

And yet, today, a moment of respite

As gusty winds across the paddock roar,

And blast and blow and burst Ma Nature’s might

Awakening my soul that wants to soar.

With leap and bound and buck the wind we chase

Ol’ Sam and I awhirl in raucous flight.

And mud erupts, our storming legs to trace,

So in the end we are a mucky sight.

Forsooth, to me this is a happy sign —

The blues of winter purged feel I, now, fine.


See you anon in Poet’s Paddock!

Shakespeare “The Equine”

Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2012

Ice Cap

Another muse upon winter for, alas, it sits frozen upon my door step. Spring is but twenty-one days away. I await it, and the promise of warmer days, with my buddy, Sam. 🙂

Ice Cap

The water in mine trough plays hard to get

Beneath the sheet of ice that floats there, yet

I cannot be dissuaded from my goal

Of slurping up the nectar from that giant beckoning bowl.


My lips upon the ice cap gently press

And soon feel water’s cold and sweet caress.

The bobbing flow of ice with me doth play —

A cool pastime upon this balmy, wintry day.


And soon I’ve had my fill, the game is done.

I’ve tasted Adam’s Ale, the victory won.

Now off to join ol’ Sam I’m wont to do,

Where I shall settle down and chat, and chew.


See you anon in Poet’s Paddock …

Shakespeare “The Equine”

Copyright Aimwell Enterprise 2012

Sonnet X — A Winter Muse

Musings on winter because it amuseth me not at all. The ice that falleth from the rooftop; the hardened ground slippery beneath my feet; the northerly winds bearing their chilling message that spring is yet a flight of fancy.  … And yet I can fancy it … 😉

Sonnet X 

Old Winter hath his frozen tune declared

With blast of snow ‘pon wind that gusteth fierce.

But, perchance, I’m not so unprepared

My body warm with blankets winds can’t pierce.

Though sleet and snow and icy pellets fall

Upon the ground and mire e’er I go

My repast take I warmly in my stall

No need to stay outside in ten below.

But all is not as bleak as it might seem

As longer grow the days t’ward Lady Spring,

And of the warmer hours do I dream —

Imagination is a wondrous thing.

So, let old Winter wail his icy song

For as the days unfold he’ll thaw e’er long.


See you anon in Poet’s Paddock!

Shakespeare “The Equine”

Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2012

Sonnet IX … Blessed be the friend

My valentine to the one I call “Mother,” “Love” and “Scribe.”

Without her pen you’d never know what’s in my heart … or hers.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Sonnet IX 

Oh, blessed be the friend I see in thee,

Thy spectral luminescence ‘pon me shine.

Thou dost, forsooth, bring out the best in me

And gladly do I give to thee what’s mine.

The greatest of these gifts is that of trust,

For ‘pon my back do I not let thee ride?

Together fly we free o’er sand; through dust

And share a truth none other may abide.

Tis friendship won o’er lo these many years.

A journey o’er both smooth and rocky ground.

While sharing joy and overcoming fears

In heart and mind and and spirit been we bound.

I tell you this as one friend to another,

For me, dear one, there simply is no other.


See you anon in Poet’s Paddock!

Shakespeare “The Equine”

Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2012

Sonnet VIII — Apple Bobbing

Herewith one of my favourite summer memories. The photo hardly does it justice, but you get the idea. Alas, no apple bobbing at present as the frigid temperatures hath turned the trough into a giant ice cube tray.

Sonnet VIII

In recent times my Love hath taught me new

The secret art of apple bobbing bliss.

It is a joy scarce few are wont to do

And sad am I, dear fiend, to hear of this.

For nothing can bear fruit of fun more fair

Than water play when apples plop and bob.

To dip my nose in fits I do and dare

And miss so many times I’m wont to sob.

But all ends well as lips procure a piece

Of apple as it drifts as on a sail.

And chomping on it then find I release;

It is my Holy Royal Gala Grail.

Of summer, then, is this a special part

Securing for my Love space in my heart.


See you anon in Poet’s Paddock!

Shakespeare “The Equine”

Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2012

The Horse As Therapist

Another flight of fancy. I’m allowed.

Come fly with me …

The Horse As Therapist

When you look at me, of course
You think I’m just a big, brown horse.
But listen, now, I’ve got some news,
I’m the go-to guy when you’ve got the blues.

Feeling lonely? Feeling blue?
I’ll tell you what you need to do …
Just spend a little time with me
And you’ll feel better soon, you’ll see.

Grab a brush and go to town;
Groom my body up and down.
Use some elbow grease and find
You’ll rub the blues out of your mind.

In the saddle with me move
Together we will find our groove.
Forget all troubles, and all grief,
Just flow with me and find relief.

Then, take me for a gentle graze
Release the last of your malaise.
And to my stable gently lead
To find, at last, your soul is freed.

But best of all you need to know
About the little seed you sow.
When spending time with me, t’is true,
You help me to feel better too.


Find a horse to love today!

See you anon in Poet’s Paddock …

Shakespeare “The Equine”

Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2012