The pony was tired and slept by the fence, but was then exited to see his owner, the little girl, show up to give him a carrot. Mary was thrilled with the reception she received from her pony.
she saddled her pony ready to ride
every time she rode her she felt free
the wind blew through her hair
and her hands let go
she felt free
like a bird soaring through the sky
Tired and worn it languished home. To the stable that offered scant rest from the wind that howled outside. The wind bit into ragged fur that showed the signs of a hard life.
One trick pony. That’s what they call a specialized person. That’s why I’ve always wanted to have a general set of skills that I’m above average at, instead of one skill I’m fantastic at. It might cost me a chance at fame or fortune and all that, but at least I’ll be more proud of what I can do. More satisfaction > more money.
The pony is cute and so ready for the race. The children are playing and waiting to ride.Black, white brown. Oh wait I see a different pony entering. She is beautiful. Violet and pink with a horn on top of her head. A unicorn has entered the race.
Rainbow Dash was a pony. She has wings and could fly because, duh, have you not seen Friendship is Magic? Anyway, she was a super fast pony and everyone loved her. Some people thought she was a lesbian but it really didn’t matter because things like that were never discussed in the show. It’s totally irrelevant and doesn’t change her as a pony.
“And he’s got the sweetest little whuffle when you do this and–babe, are you listening?”
“It’s a pony–a real pony.”
“I know. He’s a real sweetheart too. Now, would you please listen while I-”
“You bought me a real, live pony.”
“Babe?”
“I love you forever.”
The annoyed expression significantly dimmed as my darling digested that particular declaration. He chose to acknowledge it with a a kiss to the back my hand that had found its way into his.
My grand kids would just love it if their Nana got them a pony. They think I have an endless supply of money, where all I really have, is an endless supply of love.
I’ve always wanted a pony. Mommy always told me they were dangerous, but I never understood. Until now. The beast stared at me with gold eyes that shimmered in the light but more stunning were its fangs and spiked fur. It looked at me hungrily. Mommy clamped my shoulder, “Well honey, that’s what you wanted.”
I wanted a pony.
Didn’t we all want a pony?
But I now I want drugs
and I want blood
and now I don’t think of ponies
or of hope
or of hapiness
I only think about escape
I wanted a pony.
But now I guess I don’t think I will get it anymore.
Some people enjoy pony meat
Salty, sour, savory, sweet,
Tender flesh medium rare
The tail, the ear, the hoof to spare,
In some places even those are quite a treat.
Pony it up! That was the last thing he said to me before he threw me down and raped me. I didn’t think it was possible, didn’t believe it was happening.
I remember the taste of blood in my mouth from biting my tongue and thinking time could never be so slow.
I remember thinking I will never owe anyone anything ever again and then I was left in the cold.
The pony was damp with sweat from her morning run. I often liked to run with her but it was getting harder these days. The braces creaked and groaned as I walked and there was nothing left for me to do but watch the pony from the chair on the porch. It was entirely acceptable of course, no one expected anything more from me. But I wanted more. I wanted a lot more.
Max was the only little boy in school who wanted a pony. He wanted to brush it, groom it, even braid its mane with ribbons and flowers. Max’s father didn’t like the idea at all, and for Christmas he got him a BB gun and plenty of G.I. Joe action figures.
“I don’t want those,” Max had bawled, such a tiny boy amidst all the wrapping paper.
“You do want those,” his father had replied, nostrils flaring. “You do want those and you like them!”
We stood there watching the video, just adding numbers to the total views. I had my head tilted slightly to the side, and she was grinning at me, waiting for some sort of reaction.
So there was a future for us after all, huh?
I could write something like that. It’d be odd, it’d be weird, but if it paid for my rent then I guess I’d have to owe it to the Claymation Gods. If those exist. I don’t think they do.
Just taking five minutes to myself, to be myself .. it makes me the closest thing to happy I had been in a while.
The kids were more than excited. The witch was finally dead. Jason was the happiest. He had suffered her wrath for longer than any of the rest. When the pony broke loose and trampled the woman. The children stood in awe of the whole thing. David thought, “there is a god”. Jason stood silently, thanking the lord above for his sudden and unexpected deliverance. The girls weren’t as happy. They silently wondered who the household chores would fall to. They realized that they weren’t all that lucky after all.
She eagerly took his hand and he led her into the coral. He was like a God to her–so tall and strong, and he knew everything about everything, it seemed. Her pigtails bounced along as she skipped toward the pony, her cowboy boots kicking up dust. So far, this was the best day of her life.
Watson couldn’t help grinning behind a sleeve every time he shot a glance at Holmes, trotting away on his little black pony. He still failed to see the fundamental differebce between the diminutive equine and a real stallion, but whatever would get the stubborn detective moving… Watson supposed he didn’t need to add any insult to the injury to Holmes’ ego, what with the jeers from the gypsies already teasing him quite enough.
Shaking his head, Watson forged ahead up tge mountain. It was still a long ride to go, ecen with the smoother gait of his longer-legged steed.
Every little girl asks for a pony for their birthdays right? How often does that ever come true? For Madison it did. And she was ecstatic! It was a small brown mare but it was all hers.
Kucyki pony jawią się w mej głowie jako słodkie małe różowe koniki.
Tak słodkie, że aż rzygać się chce.
A co by było gdyby je ilistrować jako wyuzdane fauny pieprzące się na prawo i lewo.
Nie różowe a czarne z ogromnymi penisami oraz głębokimi waginami.
I have always, always wanted a pony. It doesn’t matter how old I am, I still want one. Logically, though, I know I know I’ll never have one and deep down, I’m actually OK with that. Sort of. I think I like the idea of the option of being able to have one. I like the option of being able to do anything whether I will or not.
the word would have always made me think of my little ponies, which make me think of a surfveit of pinkly dressed little girls squealing, if it hadn’t been for john steinbeck. What a man. writing young boy stories that arent full of weapons and piss and using little girl words so that they dont make you scoff.
It is something else to feel this kind of tenderness. I watch as she rocks, bounces and climbs around on the wooden pony. She is just turning one year old. I adore her. Her intrigue with the world is contagious. making my world new again.
She used to ride the trains at three in the afternoon to see the people. Sitting on cold, blue-tinged fingers, sipping the last possible drop of stale coffee from a styrophome cup, or practically-waiting to have their ipads stolen–she watched them in their little cubicles, bubbles really, of stranger air and midday journyes on a sort of pony express.
Isn’t it supposed to be every little girl’s dream, to have a pony for her very own? Hell, I don’t know, maybe it’s every little boy’s dream, too. Anyway, it was never mine. I didn’t even like the merry-go-round at the fair.
The pony was tired and slept by the fence, but was then exited to see his owner, the little girl, show up to give him a carrot. Mary was thrilled with the reception she received from her pony.
she saddled her pony ready to ride
every time she rode her she felt free
the wind blew through her hair
and her hands let go
she felt free
like a bird soaring through the sky
Tired and worn it languished home. To the stable that offered scant rest from the wind that howled outside. The wind bit into ragged fur that showed the signs of a hard life.
reminds me of “ponytail” or an actual pony. rhymes with sony.
Phony pony, don’t you phone me.
One trick pony. That’s what they call a specialized person. That’s why I’ve always wanted to have a general set of skills that I’m above average at, instead of one skill I’m fantastic at. It might cost me a chance at fame or fortune and all that, but at least I’ll be more proud of what I can do. More satisfaction > more money.
The pony is cute and so ready for the race. The children are playing and waiting to ride.Black, white brown. Oh wait I see a different pony entering. She is beautiful. Violet and pink with a horn on top of her head. A unicorn has entered the race.
“I can’t ride that!” he said “It’s just a pony, it’ll never make it across that desert, I’ll end up having to carry him most of the way”
Rainbow Dash was a pony. She has wings and could fly because, duh, have you not seen Friendship is Magic? Anyway, she was a super fast pony and everyone loved her. Some people thought she was a lesbian but it really didn’t matter because things like that were never discussed in the show. It’s totally irrelevant and doesn’t change her as a pony.
american movies. a symbol of welth, gone with the wind, pink, ponytale, rode one once when i was young-thats it
Pony up to the bar, boys!
Love the old westerns.
Black and whites and lots of randomness.
Beautiful horses
Vistas
Pony Express… you got it.
“It’s a pony.”
“Isn’t he beautiful?”
“It’s a pony.”
“Just look at that face–how adorable!”
“It’s a pony.”
“And he’s got the sweetest little whuffle when you do this and–babe, are you listening?”
“It’s a pony–a real pony.”
“I know. He’s a real sweetheart too. Now, would you please listen while I-”
“You bought me a real, live pony.”
“Babe?”
“I love you forever.”
The annoyed expression significantly dimmed as my darling digested that particular declaration. He chose to acknowledge it with a a kiss to the back my hand that had found its way into his.
“Right, now, I was saying, he’s a real-“
They say every girl wants a pony when they are little.
I never wanted one.
It probably should have occurred to me then that I would never be your average little girl.
My grand kids would just love it if their Nana got them a pony. They think I have an endless supply of money, where all I really have, is an endless supply of love.
Not so strong, not so fast, way more small, oh so beautifull. Not much to say about these stars except they live with all their might.
I’ve always wanted a pony. Mommy always told me they were dangerous, but I never understood. Until now. The beast stared at me with gold eyes that shimmered in the light but more stunning were its fangs and spiked fur. It looked at me hungrily. Mommy clamped my shoulder, “Well honey, that’s what you wanted.”
My friend Camille drew me as a pony. She also drew some of the characters in our role-play groups as ponies. It was very funny.
I wanted a pony.
Didn’t we all want a pony?
But I now I want drugs
and I want blood
and now I don’t think of ponies
or of hope
or of hapiness
I only think about escape
I wanted a pony.
But now I guess I don’t think I will get it anymore.
Some people enjoy pony meat
Salty, sour, savory, sweet,
Tender flesh medium rare
The tail, the ear, the hoof to spare,
In some places even those are quite a treat.
Pony it up! That was the last thing he said to me before he threw me down and raped me. I didn’t think it was possible, didn’t believe it was happening.
I remember the taste of blood in my mouth from biting my tongue and thinking time could never be so slow.
I remember thinking I will never owe anyone anything ever again and then I was left in the cold.
I want Vermin Supreme to be president now. The fact that I could be required to have a pony? OSSUMPOSSUM my friends OSSUMPOSSUM xD
The pony was damp with sweat from her morning run. I often liked to run with her but it was getting harder these days. The braces creaked and groaned as I walked and there was nothing left for me to do but watch the pony from the chair on the porch. It was entirely acceptable of course, no one expected anything more from me. But I wanted more. I wanted a lot more.
Max was the only little boy in school who wanted a pony. He wanted to brush it, groom it, even braid its mane with ribbons and flowers. Max’s father didn’t like the idea at all, and for Christmas he got him a BB gun and plenty of G.I. Joe action figures.
“I don’t want those,” Max had bawled, such a tiny boy amidst all the wrapping paper.
“You do want those,” his father had replied, nostrils flaring. “You do want those and you like them!”
so she ahs a virtual pony and plays with it daily . she is excited to feed, groom and clean it.
“APOCALYPSE PONY.”
We stood there watching the video, just adding numbers to the total views. I had my head tilted slightly to the side, and she was grinning at me, waiting for some sort of reaction.
So there was a future for us after all, huh?
I could write something like that. It’d be odd, it’d be weird, but if it paid for my rent then I guess I’d have to owe it to the Claymation Gods. If those exist. I don’t think they do.
Just taking five minutes to myself, to be myself .. it makes me the closest thing to happy I had been in a while.
And I just wanted a pony, anyways.
BADUMDUM.
The kids were more than excited. The witch was finally dead. Jason was the happiest. He had suffered her wrath for longer than any of the rest. When the pony broke loose and trampled the woman. The children stood in awe of the whole thing. David thought, “there is a god”. Jason stood silently, thanking the lord above for his sudden and unexpected deliverance. The girls weren’t as happy. They silently wondered who the household chores would fall to. They realized that they weren’t all that lucky after all.
She eagerly took his hand and he led her into the coral. He was like a God to her–so tall and strong, and he knew everything about everything, it seemed. Her pigtails bounced along as she skipped toward the pony, her cowboy boots kicking up dust. So far, this was the best day of her life.
Watson couldn’t help grinning behind a sleeve every time he shot a glance at Holmes, trotting away on his little black pony. He still failed to see the fundamental differebce between the diminutive equine and a real stallion, but whatever would get the stubborn detective moving… Watson supposed he didn’t need to add any insult to the injury to Holmes’ ego, what with the jeers from the gypsies already teasing him quite enough.
Shaking his head, Watson forged ahead up tge mountain. It was still a long ride to go, ecen with the smoother gait of his longer-legged steed.
I once had a pony from a rainbow
it’s name was joe from the oxbow
he said wassup i hate being a mutt
and i told him to just go with the flow
It was everything she had ever wished for…
Every little girl asks for a pony for their birthdays right? How often does that ever come true? For Madison it did. And she was ecstatic! It was a small brown mare but it was all hers.
Kucyki pony jawią się w mej głowie jako słodkie małe różowe koniki.
Tak słodkie, że aż rzygać się chce.
A co by było gdyby je ilistrować jako wyuzdane fauny pieprzące się na prawo i lewo.
Nie różowe a czarne z ogromnymi penisami oraz głębokimi waginami.
I have always, always wanted a pony. It doesn’t matter how old I am, I still want one. Logically, though, I know I know I’ll never have one and deep down, I’m actually OK with that. Sort of. I think I like the idea of the option of being able to have one. I like the option of being able to do anything whether I will or not.
the word would have always made me think of my little ponies, which make me think of a surfveit of pinkly dressed little girls squealing, if it hadn’t been for john steinbeck. What a man. writing young boy stories that arent full of weapons and piss and using little girl words so that they dont make you scoff.
A pony is like horse, but its smaller. Pony’s are little and cute!(:
A pony is a little horse that little kids ride at zoos and festival…
I like ponies. I asked my dad if he would buy me a pony. Ponies a small horeses. ponies are cute.
Sometimes I wish my biggest dream was still to get a pony.
I could just find one and then buy one.
My dreams are so much bigger now
But maybe the essence is the same
I wanted a pony because I wanted to love something
Have fun with something
Admire something
Maybe big dreams are really just little ones in disguise
It is something else to feel this kind of tenderness. I watch as she rocks, bounces and climbs around on the wooden pony. She is just turning one year old. I adore her. Her intrigue with the world is contagious. making my world new again.
She used to ride the trains at three in the afternoon to see the people. Sitting on cold, blue-tinged fingers, sipping the last possible drop of stale coffee from a styrophome cup, or practically-waiting to have their ipads stolen–she watched them in their little cubicles, bubbles really, of stranger air and midday journyes on a sort of pony express.
Isn’t it supposed to be every little girl’s dream, to have a pony for her very own? Hell, I don’t know, maybe it’s every little boy’s dream, too. Anyway, it was never mine. I didn’t even like the merry-go-round at the fair.