Hazel Durham

As Dawn Breaks

I remember it had been a warm day,
With a vast, crowd of clouds,
Spanning overhead with streaks of red.
I had dicovered here a sense of feeling proud.

In the far-reaching, stretch of the Curragh plains,
Fertile, shimmering, emerald,
Caressing each glade of trees, as they trembled,
In the breeze, as my spirit hovers, over ancient stable yards,

With the roaming ghosts of characters, long dead,
Tales of early morning raids, in pubs by stern guards,
In the deep, black, early morning, startled by stars,
Bending on one knee, as dawn breaks free,

My heart dwells in haunting timelessness,
With the strength and beauty of thoroughbred horses,
Galloping along with the wind and rain
Blowing gleefully, stinging our young faces,

A sense of freedom in these unique, open spaces,
Seeking to win my own inner races,
Leaving behind my luggage, with it's unbearable weight,
So much angst, riddled with disease,

My love of horses was never on lease,
Their free, individual nature
Settling my erratic mind to find peace,
With the sweat of great, physical demands,

My leather reins holding the power,
Of smooth, gliding enrapture's,
Horses so sleek, muscular, as their stamina captures.
My imagination fed from ingrained history,

Hovering over ancient, stable yards,
Immersed in daily, poker games,
Holding a royal flush of cards,
Winning is like finding a nugget of gold,

Dazzling from my weary soul,
A nugget of gold wrapped,
Never to be carelessly sold,
Just an inner light to unfold.

I was driving my red, Ferrai car so fast, it spun out of control,
Tumbling over six times and then began to roll,
Stopping with terrible damage and my ruptured heart,
All over instantly, my spirit found a leading part.

Making my presence felt in the eerie silence,
As dawn breaks,
With my young comrades slowly beginning to wake,
I dwell with my love adorned, as I watch over them,

Praying they will have stable minds
And won't make my mistakes.
As the whispering breeze calls out my name,
Over the Curragh plains as dawn breaks.

Submitted: Sunday, July 20, 2014
Edited: Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Topic of this poem: death

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Comments about this poem (As Dawn Breaks by Hazel Durham )

  • Gold Star - 22,384 Points Akhtar Jawad (1/3/2015 2:17:00 PM)

    Praying they will have stable minds
    And won't make my mistakes.
    As the whispering breeze calls out my name,
    Over the Curragh plains as dawn breaks.
    A beautiful description. (Report) Reply

  • Freshman - 619 Points Mary Forrester (1/1/2015 12:22:00 PM)

    Such a beautiful poem Hazel.
    . Dazzling from my weary soul,
    A nugget of gold to be wrapped,
    Never to be carelessly sold,
    Just an inner light to unfold.
    Your such a talented lady. (Report) Reply

  • Silver Star - 9,695 Points Heather Wilkins (12/3/2014 7:31:00 PM)

    as the whispering wind callas out my name nice write Hazel (Report) Reply

  • Gold Star - 6,639 Points Amitava Sur (7/30/2014 7:13:00 AM)

    Enjoyed the poem with the lovely detailing during the trip to Curragh plain. Thans for sharing such a lovely write. (Report) Reply

  • Bronze Star - 6,465 Points Lyn Paul (7/28/2014 5:13:00 AM)

    A captivating write Hazel, as always. Thank you (Report) Reply

  • Silver Star - 3,051 Points Valerie Dohren (7/23/2014 2:10:00 PM)

    A.wistful poem of times long past. Lovely Hazel, so many inspired lines. (Report) Reply

  • Freshman - 1,479 Points Howard 'the motivational poet' Simon (7/23/2014 7:27:00 AM)

    Bursting with a beauty that is bucolic! (Report) Reply

  • Gold Star - 17,104 Points Valsa George (7/20/2014 11:56:00 PM)

    With you, my mind also has flown into the vast open emerald stretches of Currah plains.... Here we can forget our inner races, lower our heavy baggage and gallop on thorough bred horses.... race through joy's bumpless highways! Altogether a refreshing feel your poem imparts! Beautiful! ! Top marks! (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 33 Points Mark Dillon (7/20/2014 5:16:00 PM)

    A sense of freedom yet belonging, great thought in this. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 33 Points Mark Dillon (7/20/2014 5:08:00 PM)

    Nice work Hazel, The Curragh means so much to the people who worked and lived there, and there's a great sense of freedom and yet belonging, and your poem delivers that. (Report) Reply

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