By: Nicole Buckner

The eyes that I trust are deep and full.
Never for a moment are they low and dull.
They’re big and brown with a sensitive touch.
They never make me feel like I’m not good enough.
The love that’s in them puts me back together.
The kindness in them is as gentle as a feather.
When everything goes wrong and it all falls apart,
They’ll be there to piece together my heart.

When no one will pay attention, or listen to me.
They will be there for me to confide in and see.
When phases and obsessions go out of style,
They will be there to bring out my smile.

By: Sharon Gibson

We ain’t no cowgirls, that’s for sure,
most our rides is planned as a leisurely tour.

Our horses ain’t broke, but they’re bent pretty good,
They’re not likely to dump us, though they might wish they could.

There’s three of us humans out on the trail,
With the twisted sisters and one lone male.

Cindy rides Promise, a game little steed,
When she’s feelin’ tough, she’ll take up the lead.

Clyda rides Gumby, who’s not quite so brave,
she watches her rear, like it’s something to save.

By: Jessica Barber

The show day begins as the red sun is rising;
The birds in mid-song and the grass wet with dew.
From the hush of the barn comes a bugle of greeting:
My presence he sensed and my footfalls he knew.
As we make our departure and take up the journey
The thick mist of sunrise has melted away.
I’m anxious with waiting – I can’t help but wondering
If luck will be smiling upon us today.

By: Lisa Dickens

Ode to Tornado.                                                 We could tell him our thoughts,
Where do I start?                                                Our dreams and our fears.
He is gone from the pasture,                             He would listen quietly
But not from my heart.                                      And help dry our tears.

By: Ashlie Brooks

My heart was pounding
The pressure was astounding
It’s a run for the money
And there’s riders a-plenty
The horses are big
The horses are fast
When their riders ask, they put on the gas
This isn’t for the weak of heart
The pace is fast from the start
There’s my name
I’m hoping for 16 seconds of fame
You ask for speed
The turns are sharp
You have it in the bag if your horse’s got heart
The race in on
FLASH
Your gone
Speed!

By: Tara Woodall

Driving in a Chevrolet
Going down the road.
I have to wonder about the prices you pay
In this game called rodeo.

The late night and little sleep
Do not hold a candle.
To the stress and loneliness
That your loved ones have to handle.

By: Elsa Smith

I squeeze my legs, hold on tight,
And grasp the reins with all my might.
So gracefully and silently we charge up the hill,
Leaves spinning like tornadoes or a thousand windmills.

Aspen’s strength changes when I switch leads in mid air;
It seems like we’re the opening act at the County Fair.

As he slows down to a trot, I feel relief;
I see the last leg to our journey peak.
In my head I think of the races, “On your mark, get set – go!”
I squeeze my legs, I think he knows.

By: Shannon Hooten

A few years back on a beautiful summer day I was on my grandmother’s farm up in Grants Pass, Oregon. Here in Arizona it’s anything but beautiful in the summer. But, that’s enough about that. Gamma’s farm, back then, had seven chickens, two Rottweilers, a Queensland Blue Healer, two sheep, five cats, and five horses. The horses are the main part of my story. There’s an Appaloosa named Harley, an Arabian called Justice, two Rocky Mountain horses named Bastian and Moonshine, and a mix of horse breeds named Dakota. To shorten it even more, this story is about Dakota & Moonshine.

By: Crystal Dawn

My parents always told my sister and I how much trouble and workhorses would be, but I loved horses way too much to listen . On a warm sunny day in June, we returned home from a weeklong visit with grandma and granddad to find our parents had been busily renovating the landscape around our home.

By: Linda Hren

“I am getting a pony for Christmas!” I screamed as I darted into the kitchen and back into our living room on the last day of school before Christmas vacation.

At our house, Santa often left some item early to remind us that he was checking on us and making sure we were on our best behavior.

My grinning parents and brothers and sisters followed me into the living room where I was dancing around the Christmas tree with a manure fork sporting a big red bow.