Some people point a finger
at my face and ask,
“Is that really your body?”
I say, “Oh, come on.
Why would that be my body?”
That is nothing but
an old, weathered mansion.
Once, it was bright and gleaming,
polished, immaculate.
Now, it stands on the verge of ruin.
Banyan saplings push through
the cracks of its crumbling plaster,
while bats and house snakes
have made their homes within.
But what can I do?
There is no other way.
I have now
put that ruin
on my body
and wear it as my own.
Across the twilight sky,
astride a mad horse
racing through the clouds,
I am, after all,
nothing but
a missing horseman.
Engines revving
Pushing back
White mustang,
Black mustang
Horseman
Drive by
I think its right.? Time? For an
apocalyptic write.! I see i think?
Not knowing all, we live in a time
Of deception, under a (trumpets
Call?) The golden era is dawning
Or so we hear-ed
Now.? ( maybe thats an elitist term?)
Just for them.? Think now discern.! So a
Fourth rich kingdom.? Is that also
The horse.? Of revelation.' Upon its
Course ? four sure its possible '
REPENT ALL NOW.!!! Find your
Pearls of wisdom, search scripture
And how.' Cast no false aspersions on
The Word of God.! Who destroyed old
Gomorra; and those Godless sods.)
Charging through the Mystical Chords Of Time
The March Of The Light Horseman On The Frontlines.
War Paint on my Soul, I AM a Warrior
Armorial, I Gleam like a Super Light Soldier
Coursing Veils I AM Luminous
In Feathers Of Illuminance,
Marching Up The Halls Of The Golden Pantheon
Sun Born, I Shine Forth A New Dawn
Light Bright, Against The Grain Up High
HOPE Is The Name, I Breach Legendary Heights
Where The Fruits Of The Soul Are Prolific
There, The Master Of The Sword, the Flights Exquisite
Triumphing Through, Like A Solar Adonis, I Am Victorious
Bondage Conquering, One With The Cold Tip Of My Sword, I AM GLORIOUS!
This is for you big guy
somewhere way up
in that beautiful sky
sweet oleanders danced
the universe collided
sweeping you throughout
this grand galaxy soaring
the wide open granduer
finding me writing
my muse wandering
the shooting stars
igniting the brilliant
illuminating hues
twinkling beacon lights
creating a canvas of prose
between the meeting of the
minds why we meet again
Harry the Horseman gazing
into the Rodanthe watching
the braising stallions sabals
galloping covering the seaside
fond memories arouse
rest well my dear friend
until we meet again
He rides alone and conquers all,
he already has so he just sits at home,
waiting for the right time to strike the friendly foe with a perfect smile,
he knows the path he must eternally walk battling evil by which he is stalked
Endlessly seeking what once was his,
he rides through the night searching pell-mell,
his destiny unknown and undefined.
His ebony horse speeds on two toes,
lathered, panting, fatigue’s sign tell-tale,
controlled by his hard master’s mind.
Grim tormentors in dogged pursuit,
their prophetic mission sent from Hell;
canines hungrily track as assigned.
Spurring his spirited steed forward,
night moaning with the presaging knell,
he cracks his whip made of human spine.
The massive serpentine sword aloft
he seeks to avenge himself – to quell –
severs his victim’s head from behind.
Alas, not his, his plight continues.
Infinite circle, a casted spell
He must break before bursting his confine.
Ceaseless searching to settle the score,
the Headless Horseman arises once more.
The fourth horseman now comes,
in search of your kin.
The suffering is great,
souls scream to the wind.
Number four now strikes,
no remorse and no sin.
He brings death to your door,
do not let him in.
This fourth horse is pale,
there is nowhere to hide.
Nothing can save you,
your wealth nor your pride.
Please don't wait too long,
being stubborn and not see.
You still can be saved,
if in faith you will believe.
Number three now arises,
your fasting commence.
Famine brought forth,
your crops recompense.
The third of four,
draws his strength from above.
You can still be redeemed,
put your trust in God's love.
This rider is swift,
revered far and wide.
The horse that he rides,
is black on each side.
Your hunger and thirst,
will leave you deficiently dead.
You will forage and steal,
going out of your head.
The famine he brings,
will dismantle your land.
Beware my dear friend,
your reckoning is at hand.
An invisible power,
brings forth a new rider.
The second of four,
rendering an eminent fire.
War and destruction,
he's dispatched to deliver.
Countless souls will perish,
their blood flowing like rivers.
His judgement now emanates,
cast swiftly throughout the land.
Repent convinced,
or prepare to engage in a last stand.
His fury conducted,
could very well be your last.
Keep God in your heart,
and put sin in your past.
This second of 4,
his horse will be red.
He comes for your soul,
so don't go to bed.
Before the end,
we have been told.
A horse will ride,
into the fold.
The first of four,
will be all white.
He will deceive,
with forceful might.
He will seem good,
with boastful cheer.
He will try and unite,
and end all fear.
The words he'll spit,
out from his mouth.
Comes from the dragon,
deep down in the south.
*The first horseman will differ with different interpretations of the bible. This poem is about the interpretation that the 1st is the anti Christ*
If this interpretation offends anyone let me know and I can offer a revised poem to accommodate both interpretations.
A cold, creepy Halloween night.
What Katrina found gave her a fright.
It was the head of Ichabod Crane-
Of headless horseman fame.
She waited for him to ride by.
Closed her eyes and held his head way up high.
The next day Crane was back teaching his class.
As if 230 years never passed.
Saša Milivojev - THE LAST HORSEMAN
White, everything is white
The walls are moving
A body in hospital sheets
White horses pull the bed
The soul crawls behind them and begs
White
Around the bed
Angels dance in a circle
The sky sheds its clothes
Give me back my body
To forge my heart
I do not want to travel anymore
Through this endless field
Wrapped in white sheets
Saša Milivojev
www.sasamilivojev.com
He had a body like a stone
Rough hewn, taught to the bone
With veins obscenely sewn.
Into Leather muscles, grimly honed
And sat on an empty throne
A tower of harrowing tales
Of heroes who come to prevail
Those who he gleefully flailed
Who's ships now fly skin sails
For under this armour, a shadow
Who starved those who dain show
The depth of their loved ones sorrow
A man of obsidian, a Monolith
Death’s very own blacksmith
The curse upon every sinners lips
The chair sits in the center, alone
It's limbs twisted like a devils grail
Held by dirty bones which harrow
Each soldier to gaze forthwith
At the coming of Apocalypse.
A Horseman
https://www.youtube.com/edit?o=U&video_id=V9rXOdSslKA
Just watching the Magnificent Seven again,
Seen it many times of course,
Yul Brynner and Steve Mc Queen,
Two horsemen a sitting their horses,
When horse and man move as one,
You know, these are men that can ride,
Old drovers could tell in a heartbeat,
Yes it’s a matter of pride,
For when you have lived in the saddle,
And you feel the beat of his heart,
Your horse does carry you gladly,
gets a grip, like your only sweetheart ,
but my friend and I are now parted,
no longer his whinny or sigh,
but I still have his saddle,
just a horseman, a waiting to die.
Don Johnson
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.