A Horse’s Thoughts in the Derby

I broke from gate 13,
Jerry Bailey on my back,
I rushed up with the leaders,
None would give me any slack.
Trying to remember,
What I had done before,
How I had gained the inside turn,
Went through the open door.
I felt a tug inside my mouth,
Was I not to go this fast?
The leaders were sure to get away,
Why, I'd end up in last!
I tried to fight the bit,
But the pulling powered on,
I finally slowed- just a bit,
Light shone down on me like dawn.
I saw a turn before me,
Now maybe I could run,
But no rein was given up,
Where was al lthe fun?
That was when I found,
That this turn was not the last,
When would the end of this race come,
With a half mile past?
The pace was slow and easy,
With me at the back of the field,
Waiting just waiting for anything,
My momentum was starting to build.
Finally I saw another turn,
And prepped myself to run,
Gracefully lengthening out my stride,
This race was still not done.
I sped around the final turn,
Then I down the homestretch flew,
My colors aglow gallantly,
Green and white and blue.
Gaining on the leaders,
My heart beating aloud,
Only just a little more,
I now could hear the crowd.
My jockey and I worked as one,
And steadily still we gained,
Right now I was well off,
But still behind the leader's reign.
The gap between me and one other,
Was closing rapidly now,
My legs were tired and rubbery,
But I knew I'd get there somehow.
I could see the wire up ahead,
And the eye of my rival,
Neck and neck we grudged it out,
Like a fight for our survival.
Just a few more strides now,
From the thrill of victory,
I surged forward with excessive power,
And dug deep from within me.
I then saw the flash of a camera,
My jockey stood up in bliss,
He pumped his whip into the air,
And showed the crowd his fist.
I pricked my ears forward,
I knew what I had done,
This wasn't just any race,
It was the Derby that I had won.


By Layla Marefat

A Charismatic Derby


I had it in my bloodlines,
Summer Squall as my sire,
My fate was to win the Derby,
Me, the royal color of fire.
I sprang from an outside post,
Sixteen to be exact,
Piloting me through traffic,
Was Chris Antley on my back.
As we neared the first turn,
I was kept somewhat outside,
Not yet would I release my powers,
But my charm I could not hide.
Stalking wide the leaders,
Resting in seventh place,
Ignorant to the trouble,
Caused by the leisurely slow pace.
I stormed down the backstretch,
The sun beating the golden track,
My eyes set on the leaders,
No talent did they lack.
But then I did shift my gaze,
For up ahead I saw,
The turn to immortality,
I could hear the winner's call.
I lengthened out my stride,
And to the front I flew,
All eyes set on my colors,
Brilliant green, and yellow too.
As I reached and seized the lead,
Then charged to the spotlight,
I could feel the millions of eyes,
Watching my fate turn right.
I repelled one last charge,
Then soared gallantly to glory,
I had won the Kentucky Derby,
An ever such enchanting story.


By Layla Marefat





Flight Without Wings


Shadows lurked on the dreary isle,
Little movement was made,
Nothing was heard except a soft beating- like drums,
Closer and closer it came.
Then from the dense fog,
Something radiant appeared,
Head held high- eyes wide open and clear,
Nothing stood in his way.
His tall frame- sleek, shiny, and gray,
Could be seen in morning's first light,
Then sustaining from the pull of gravity,
He was off and soon out of sight.
I crept out from my hiding,
From behind some bushes, three,
However the noise alerted the stallion,
Who then turned and faced toward me.
His ears were pricked forward and in no state of caution,
As he carelessly trotted over to me,
Obviously he was familiar to the human touch,
But no saddle or bridle would he ever see.
A cool breeze swept over as I reached out my hand,
And threaded my fingers through his mane,
The majestic gray stallion then let out a wild clarion call,
But I stayed with him all the same.
He flinched as I reached for his long slender neck,
But he thought of no plan to escape,
And I knew that before I would leave this isle,
On him a ride I would take.
Lightly I laid my hands on his back,
Then slowly I mounted this king,
Expecting to be taken off at a near run,
I clung to his mane as the queen.
But when there was no rush,
When no dash was made,
I nudged my heels into his flanks,
And started my parade.
I felt a surge beneath me,
Like a gallant eagle soaring,
Wind whipped across my face,
I could tell this ride would not be boring.
Heaving muscles surged beneath me,
As we tore across the land,
Faster after every step,
Of the stallion I took command.
Guiding him through forlorn woods,
He showed no signs of slowing,
We continued to fly at uncontrollable speeds,
Though through the thick trees light was showing.
In less than a second we broke through,
To what appeared to be a beach,
Over and across the sandy shore we went,
Although tall boulders made the ocean hard to reach.
I now felt a light ocean spray mist,
As my steed galloped along the coast,
Secure in his passion for he loved to run,
I did slow him to a canter- almost.
Easily now we moved along,
At a slight loping like pace,
It was hard to believe that I was on the same isle,
After experiencing the dazzling race.
Little by little we slowed down to a walk,
As I reached out to rub his lathered neck,
Then slowly I slid off of his back,
And I began home my arduous trek.
But I would be back tomorrow…


By Layla Marefat

Unlucky

He broke from an inside post,
And from the start was left behind,
Bumped around the most,
A steady stride he could not find.
Struggling,without a doubt,
Running hard back in last,
Swerving in and out,
To find a horse that he could pass.
Rounding the first turn,
Nothing was there to hide,
The poor, unlucky horse,
Was now trapped down the inside.
He sweat with heaving muscles,
Breathed heavily in the air,
Took a glance behind him,
To see if anything was there.
His legs flying out of sync,
Roughly pounding across the dirt,
Hoping in the slightest,
That he’d leave this track unhurt.
When nearing the second turn,
He was forced out seven wide,
And when he made his move,
The other horses strongly replied.
But little did he know,
That this race was not yet ending,
That another stretch was yet to run,
On which the outcome was depending.
But still his luck continued,
If you'd call it luck at all,
Rammed by one horse,
Into another "twice" as tall.
His jockey urged him on,
But to no avail,
For once he started going,
Off would be cut his trail.
But then something happened,
And one horse he passed,
It gave him newborn energy,
To not be stuck in last.
He surged forward with this spirit,
That left him eager to run,
And passed yet two more horses,
This race was not yet done.
He now was determined,
Even with the nightmare of a race,
That he could overcome the odds,
That left him stranded without a trace.
He pinned back his ears,
And set his jockey in his seat,
His eyes fixed on the leading horse,
That he knew soon would retreat.
So he kept on running,
Eating up the ground,
Quickly decreasing the gap,
Under the crowd's deafening sound.
The wire was just off,
And he was still three lengths back,
But he kicked into another gear,
To win at this historic track.
And with this racing through his head,
He powered on some more,
Surged on toward the finish,
And behind him closed the door.
All were struck dumfounded,
"From where did he come?"
How did he soar by the others,
Like a bullet from a gun?
With just a few strides left now,
He could feel it coming fast,
The feel of sheer glory,
Superiority long at last.
He raised his head up just a bit,
Overflowing with pride,
Galloping first under the finish,
After the awful ride.
What's so great about this you say?
The horse just won a race,
Not any, but the Travers Stakes,
Forever locked in Saratoga's grace.

By Layla Marefat

He is of the Triple Crown

The wind blows softly now,
For he is here.
The king, our sovereign,
Ruler of all.

The river runs dry now,
For the words of wisdom disappeared.
But one true,
One worthy of wearing a crown,
Still Remains.

The silent night goes slowly now,
For thoughts filter through the air.
The one stands alone,
Stars shine solely upon thee.

Galloping along the fence now,
Silhouetted by the moon’s glare,
For he is the one of the Triple Crown,
Let him burn in your memory.


Forever…


By Layla Marefat