Author has written 9 stories for Twilight.
My name is holly i am seventeen years old and i absolutely love twilight and writting stories on it. I have just recently discovered how to really post stories and i hope that you enjoy the ones i post. I also enjoy riding my three horses and hanging out with my BFFL's. Please give my your honest opinion on things cause i would love comments because it helps me know if you guys want more chapters. And i will admit that i don't think i am that good. But please enjoy! :)
By Lacy Priest
Her pounding hooves barely touched the ground,
If she escapes, she'll never be found.
The men's ropes are twirling, now flying throuth the air,
Waiting to tighten 'round the neck of the mare.
She sees it and cuts to the right,
While the riders draw empty ropes back up tight.
The men's horses are tiring, but she's fresh as a breeze.
"She's drawing away," whispers the wind in the trees.
Through the canyon, up the hill,
"The men are beaten; she's safe"; the cardinals thrill!
She'll never know bridle, blanket, nor saddle,
And she won't ever help cowboys round up the cattle.
'Cause she's a wild one by name and by mark,
The cowboys all round here call her The Wild Heart.
Now that's the tale of the sorrel mare that never got roped,
Because she evaded all the cowboys with her powerful 'lope.
Wild Mustangs by Lydia Bekkala
Mustangs roam wild and free
Necks arched, and tails held high
These spirited creatures always show their pride
Bucking and biting they play and fight
Gorgeous to our eyes these horses roam the night
Silent and strong they run like the wind
Calling their names
Poem by Tiffany Moss
His nostrils flare,
With noble delight,
His wide white eyes,
Full of fight.
He is a King,
With blood-red coat,
Upon wind he floats.
The breeze of heaven,
Flows through his mane,
He gallops through my heart,
And back again.
Poem by Emily Marton
Their Hoofbeats hit the dirt,
With Soft clouds of air puffing from their nostrils,
Grace exceeding their Beauty,
their strides long yet powerful,
With long tangled manes and wiry dense tails flowing,
they have their minds set on the day to come,
to survive the harsh plains,
yet so cruel.
The young stay close,
with fluffy tails and high pitched whinnies,
their short strides quicken to keep up with the rush
of yet another move,
never knowing what the day may bring.
but in the soft beating of their hooves,
their Wild spirit will always be pure.
because They are Wild horses.
~What happens now~
All the girls outfits: