horses - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
She is my pride and joy. With soft eyes that you could stare into forever, falling, but at the same time so still, they reflected promise. A heart made of love, slender profile, and a gorgeous chestnut coat, Juliette was always there for me in the darkest days, when it felt like my life was a hurricane in an endless sea. I will never forget the days I spent with her, cantering in a field full of daisies, under a clear blue sky.
My horse was not above medium size, but he was alert, slender-limbed, muscled with watch springs, and just a grey-hound to go. He was a beauty, glossy as silk, and naked as the day when he was born, except for a bridle and a ranger saddle.
Sleek beauties, muscles that roll underneath the supple coat that hangs majestically on the frame. A flowing mane that unfurls and whips as the wind calls it, feet that pound the ground, a natural canter, gait. The quivering of the haunches as they rocked forward, a toss of the head and the eyes rolling backward - big, genuine eyes that saw through and with you.
So is the horse - who founded exploration on his burly shoulders.
In his sleep he could hear the horses stepping among the rocks and he could hear them drink from the shallow pools in the dark where the rocks lay smooth and rectilinear as the stones of ancient ruins.
Found in All the Pretty Horses, authored by .
Dark brown and shiny as a conker.
Neck, withers, back, forelegs, hind legs, fetlock, main, tail, hooves, horse shoes, farrier, tack, tack room, polishing tack, saddle, bridle, bit, field blanket, water trough, halter, lead rope, muck out the stable, pitch fork, wheel barrow, sweep the yard, fresh straw bedding, saw dust bedding.
Majestic, fluid movement, trot, canter, gallop, muscle ripples, arched neck, flowing mane and tail, prance, skittish, shy away, refuse to jump, leap, jumped clear of the fence, jumped cleanly, bucked, kicked, bit, snatched mouthfuls of grass, rolled in the mud, whinny, neigh, snort, flick flies away with tail, groom, pick mud out of hooves, molting, frolicking, playful, gentle.
Unlike the natural herds of the forest these horses were every colour, shape and size. The only thing each had in common was the halter it wore on its head for easy catching. A dumb mistake, Jake mused, it makes them all the easier to steal. He walked casually across the tussocked field, leading ropes dangling at his side and a slick smile on his face. He didn't see horses at all, just money. Like these fools had left their wallets running around in the open with easy-grab-handles.
The horses broke out from the tree line. At the head was the stallion, his chestnut coat as fluid as water, stocky limbs moving faster than Maisy would have thought possible. The soft spring soil was no match for their hooves and in their wake sods were flying in a arcing spray. Their heads were extended forwards but their ears flat back, puffs of moisture escaping from their nostrils. None of them were especially tall, fifteen hands at the most; but they were an impressive sight, streaming past in the post-dawn light. Maisy set off toward the trees, curious to know what had them so rattled.