Date Submitted: 23rd Jan

I wrote this poem in dedication to my beloved champion Zeb late last year
after he recoved from a savage attack prior to a major competition in the
North West. It mostly reflects on our friendship, our dreams of pursuing
endurance success and our partnership long after death. He means the world
to, my more a brother to me than best friend, and I pray this reflects
through my writing of this poem...

'My Horse Zeb'

They say you only get one good horse in your lifetime,
And if this happens to be true, then I’ve already had mine.
A sturdy loyal gelding, nigh to 15 hands,
A snow white coat all over, ever reddened by Pilbara sands.
He’s never been a fancy hack, for his looks don’t usually compare,
To that of plaited thoroughbreds, with clipped and glistening hair.
He’s never been a jumper, sixty centimetres at the most,
And I recall on a few occasions where he’s made me hit the post.
For galloping through the bushland, and down to the tidal creek,
Where together we watch the morning sun, on shallow waters beat.
‘Tis a much more enjoyable experience, loose rein and ocean breeze,
Than riding dainty circles, for a judge we’re yet to please.
Sometimes to the top of the hills we journey, and together observe beyond,
The peninsular and Nickol Bay, images of freedom we both are fond.

He was sired by an Arab, or perhaps it was his dam?
I don’t know much about his past, and his papers I do not have.
He bears no brand or microchip, nor bloodline highly prized,
And in comparison to most horses, he is quite stout in size.
But like the wind he loves to chase, he is quick upon his feet,
And at the local gymkhanas, he is the one to beat.
For beneath me I feel him gather, then without wings he flies,
Maybe first through those finish flags, beneath Pilbara sun in sapphire sky.
And he is always listening attentively, one ear turned back to me,
As we canter down the access road, over sand dunes to the sea.

My horse is not a beast of burden, nor a humble slave,
I am not a forceful master, with cruel spurs and whip quite grave.
We are one spirit in two bodies, and a friendship strong and true,
And through his eyes reflects his soul, as pure as ocean blue.
By each others side we’ve experienced all, the good, the bad, the pain,
And in my life’s darkest moments, his presence has kept me sane.
He’s been the target of shear hatred, from a few who dislike me so,
His agony and suffering, they shall never know.
But my Zebby is a fighter, and his heart so full of strength,
And we will journey on together, not stopping at any length.

My horse is aging slowly, but not yet does his strength wane,
And in my heart I would greatly like, to pursue the endurance game.
Most people keep persisting, “You need another horse!”
“A younger, fitter pure bred that’ll last a 50 mile course.”
They say Zeb will die beneath me, that I’ll have no success,
That Zeb’s frame is far too heavy, I’ll never be up there with the best.
But in endurance winning, is to simply complete the course,
And who better to do it on, than my sturdy little horse.
We still have a few years left, it give it one last go,
Until the day that Zeb retires, in pastures where the greenest grasses grow.

Perhaps my Zeb will pass away, before I ever do,
And he will live in heaven’s sanctuary, in sky heights of velvet blue.
So from this day forth I shall pray to God, when I am lying on my bed,
That he may save me a place in heaven, beside my champion Zeb.
And once again we shall gallop, in places which we once dreamed,
Beneath mighty snow-capped mountains, and through old forests’ endless
green.
And never again shall death do us part, or cause a too longer wait,
For heaven will immortalise our spirits, I pray this be our fate.
I shall not want a cremation, and my ashes cast to sea,
Nor thrown from mountain face, to be carried by the southerly.
For just before I take my final breath, and near the end of my life’s
course,
I shall ask my loved ones, to burry me beside my horse.
- Lauren Walsh