 Steve’s Bio – My formative years were spent in the cocoon - like world of jet fighters. I traded in my flight suit for one from Saville Row and began a ten year odyssey with commercial jets and India. An extraordinary time and place that I’m trying to capture in a work called Bombay Winds. Meantime, I’m enjoying the series A Tale of Two Horses and have many more ideas to capture. Writing Ulme’s story, I had tremendous empathy for his enigmatic character. The idea of this young Lusitano horse forced to engage in a battle of wits and agility against the massive Spanish fighting bulls, created the narrative for a six-stanza poem. I sensed a story in this real life horse that would resonate with many, if only symbolically. When Ulme’s best friend and stable mate, Noodles went into Afib, I found my inspiration for a larger story and began to write, finding Noodles’ voice in the dialectic. He (Noodles, whose show name is Udon P) has a very compelling personality. This became more evident as Noodles narrated Ulme’s story from his early days in the Alentejo, the dramatic forays with the bulls, and finally banishment into isolation. I imagined the story as a series of books told in part from the perspective of the horses, giving the reader an insight, into not just the interaction between riders and horses, but also with each other. Horses have a highly evolved method of communicating that some might interpret as telepathic. The truth is they have a body language numbering in the hundreds if not thousands from modest signals to overtly violent expressions. Trying to capture these nuances helped me find Noodles voice. Balancing the magic of talking horses with the reality of their true nature had me frequently questioning the dialogue and story-line. As in all journeys, it is an imperfect process. I hope the result is entertaining and gives the reader a glimpse behind the curtain into the incredible world of sport horses. |  |
ULME of the ALENTEJO
by Steven Layne
In the Alentejo, unspoiled by the march of time
The land rolls forever, beneath an azul sky.
Where cork oaks and gum trees, shade groves and vines
beside ancient Tagus, whose flows are sublime.
In the Alentejo, we first stood afore each other
Amidst nature’s rules we were, two very headstrong brothers.
Raised high against the wind, in this timeless meadow
This ancient steed and I, stood brazen in the burrow.
In the Alentejo, a truce was signed, a trust between two castes
A bond, a hold, a connection true, ne’r I’d known for now this date.
In his eye I sensed Elyseum, the real wonder of it all
As if he knew from whence I came, dreams and hopes my gall.
In the Alentejo, the Paladin held me in his gaze
His respite surged, a colossal force, exclaimed upon the day.
As his eye took my measure, to see if I might be the one
A savvy Cavaleira, fearing neither enmity or shun.
In the Alentejo, the scars of old now but streaks of pain
In each a tale of battles, countless clashes all in deign.
Fear not the mighty beast, as it impales upon your sides
For honor is the victor, to those who stand with pride.
In the Alentejo, I felt despair that was his plight
He that liveth this day, while others have felt its smite.
Now his days of battle are, but quiet solemn moments
There still remains a warrior ready, to stand for his atonement.
by Steven Layne
In the Alentejo, unspoiled by the march of time
The land rolls forever, beneath an azul sky.
Where cork oaks and gum trees, shade groves and vines
beside ancient Tagus, whose flows are sublime.
In the Alentejo, we first stood afore each other
Amidst nature’s rules we were, two very headstrong brothers.
Raised high against the wind, in this timeless meadow
This ancient steed and I, stood brazen in the burrow.
In the Alentejo, a truce was signed, a trust between two castes
A bond, a hold, a connection true, ne’r I’d known for now this date.
In his eye I sensed Elyseum, the real wonder of it all
As if he knew from whence I came, dreams and hopes my gall.
In the Alentejo, the Paladin held me in his gaze
His respite surged, a colossal force, exclaimed upon the day.
As his eye took my measure, to see if I might be the one
A savvy Cavaleira, fearing neither enmity or shun.
In the Alentejo, the scars of old now but streaks of pain
In each a tale of battles, countless clashes all in deign.
Fear not the mighty beast, as it impales upon your sides
For honor is the victor, to those who stand with pride.
In the Alentejo, I felt despair that was his plight
He that liveth this day, while others have felt its smite.
Now his days of battle are, but quiet solemn moments
There still remains a warrior ready, to stand for his atonement.
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