Life At The Races Poem by Sean Furlong

All those horses raced for you
thoroughly bred to compete
so you'll know which one to choose
Before the race you got to meet
each horse and then each jockey
They live to race, and race they shall
It's an honor even if to lose

You hear the trumpet blare a tune
an hommage you know so well
It lets you know the race starts soon
All the anticipation it cannot quell
The horses know the time to attune
All doubts in their minds they do dispel

The sound of the bell commences
a rapid ringing ignights their fire
Four legs propel between fences
hooves thumping and thudding
a kind of horse chamber choir

The whip thrashes about and falls
just upon the right hindquarter
the pain incites speed to pass them all
makes the race that much shorter

Around the last bend the steeds thrust
closing in on the tenth furlong
win, cross the line first you just must
stick your neck out for her
or be looked upon with disgust

Although all were fit beyond many a measure
the camera would surely determine the pleasure
Horses laid strewn in the pattern of a line
A line she had painted in her spare time
to settle, put to rest all the horses except
the absolute best who lived up to her test.