Thought of the day

Horses are not humans; a phrase most horse people have heard before. Meaning horses do not react at all like humans do, very true of course and obviously a very important lesson in horsemanship. Yet it does depend on what kind of human we refer to.



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Up here in northern Scandinavia daylight hours are scarce at this time of year, or rather substituted by an elongated dawn and dusk. The warm colors of sunrise and sunset blurs the edge of shadow and gives a gentle touch to all and everything.

Our red and blue roan Nokota horses display a wonderful luminous glow as the mixture of white and colored hairs in their coat fuses the sunlight.

It made this November day a little brighter.

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An entry for WPC “Shadowed”

Sonnet of a wild future


To know that life is now, not then nor when;
Is utterly unknown to human strife,
So obvious to every child of man
But I proclaim; there is no clock to life

Future’s absence proves no Boston cream pie,
Since clocks and globes both spherical appear,
Likewise the theory of space and time;
What was will be and then, soon leave us clear

Wild horses adds the beauty to our time
What man released the wild refined again
As true as sonnets need reclaim the rhyme;
If we preserve the free, our lives regain

Believe when nature feels what words repent;
The coldest season is a spring’s descent

© Mikael Werner

Writing 201
The tenth, and last day’s assignment was to write a “Sonnet” about “Future” and to use the device “Chiasmus”.

Ode to the Heart of my Rose

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O’ Wild Prairie Rose stretch out, what a glorious day
You, the sweetest enchantress of this northern land
Canter from hither to dither and far and away

The nest where your heart resides is carved by hand,
Crafted in Dalbergia Abbreviate; a rosewood chest
There’s nothing in this widely world it cannot withstand

While spring-like warmth upon the grass as you rest
Awakens a reluctant dweller in this work of art,
Your heart; it waits and breathers like an unwilling guest

My rose, my horse I feel your pounding heart
The chest is strong but will not take much more
When spring is here it strikes like Amors dart

Then your eager heart rips out the weakest drawer
And escapes with a powerful neigh of a ghastly roar!

Writing 201
The eighth day’s assignment was prompted “drawer” in the form of an “ode” and to use the device “apostrophe”.

The Fog

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The eerie beings sweeps over the pasture for dew,
And leaves the mares in hazy air concealed.

The naked hooves so gently caress the meadow anew,
Such a motionless awe lies o’er the field.

The oldest mare, a fair blue roan lifts up her head,
And in an airy voice she calls my name;

Come close my friend, step out of there and leave your shed.
The fog moved on as I approached the dame.

For hundreds of years you’ve engineered a darker truth;
The Spirit world is shy and shun from thee.

Again I challenge you to fix your wisdom tooth,
Reclaim your former nature, live by the lea.

The loss of light shone through the forest, so barren and cleft
The night embraced the land, just hope was left.


Writing 201
The fifth day’s assignment was prompted “fog” in the form of an “elegy” and to use the device “metaphor”.

A deeper trust

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Whilst convention implies, worthy horses will walk thru fire;

Indigenous equines is inclined to receive every beck and call.

Necessarily by need a pony blindly must follow its leader,

Dearly in deep opposition I declare; one-way trust is obedience,

For an obedient horse is an unsafe fellow, I frankly foretell.

Leisurely listen and lament; a horses’ senses is much sharper than yours,

Once overlooking a pony’s’ ominous senses, her soul will be lost;

Wisdom is to not throw away what we want not be without.

Every well-broke steed may break, but genuine trust bows by the breeze.

Rest calmly in Windflowers arms; sweet daughter and filly, bonded by trust.

Writing 201
The third day’s assignment was prompted “trust” in the “acrostic” form and device “internal rhyme”.