Poetry

Pale

Wielding the gifts of its ruthless kin
Its gift, received by all that basked in sin
Hades trails behind, jaws wide open
Swallowing whole the unworthy of being chosen
God, the judge and jury, while death dons the hood
One by one, their heads laid across the stained wood
No lambs blood will offer salvation
For the Lamb’s wrath shall see no cessation
Wondering a silent earth, emptied of the cursed and the blessed
The Pale horse and its kin will walk as one and lay to rest

 

‘Pale’ is the fourth and final entry in my poetry series on the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and is about Death. I have had a lot of fun writing this series and it has been a worthwhile challenge. And I think that I’ll definitely want to do more poetry series in the future.
© 2018
Photo via Pixabay CC0

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Poetry

Black

Skin clinging to bone
A harrowed, plaintive moan
The Struggling Girl, desperate for bread
Stalked by the vulture, looking well fed
The black horse watches, without malice, without hate
Unwavering in its purpose, resolute in its fate

 

‘Black’ is the third entry in my poetry series on the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and is about Famine. The main imagery of the poem is the starving girl being stalked by a vulture, this was inspired by Kevin Carter’s iconic Pulitzer Prize winning photo ‘The vulture and the little girl’, also known as ‘Struggling Girl’, taken in 1993 during a famine in South Sudan.

© 2018
Photo via Pixabay CC0

Poetry

Red

Came forth from the second seal
Tasting for blood with brandished steel
Saw earth’s sinners and fell like a thunderbolt
Inspiring prayers to see no more and be pillars of salt
Conquered by the red horse and wars called civil
Fighting on two fronts, destined to cripple

The gift of eternal peace we have been deprived
In these times, law falls silent and the red horse thrives
The scourge of the earth, with an endless drive

 

‘Red’ is the second entry in my poetry series on the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and is about War. In this poem I have made reference to quotes about war made by Cicero, Sun Tzu and Caesar.

© 2018
Photo via Pixabay CC0

Poetry

White

Marked with an infallible token of death
Touched by a white horse, now looms my final breath
Rotted fingers and little black spots
An old adversary, come to draw my lot
No beak of rose, juniper and mint will mask the stench
As bodies fill up the fresh dug trench
Pestilence has come upon we peccant souls
Come with a purpose, to fulfil its role

 

‘White’ Is the first in a planned series of poems about the Four Horseman, with ‘White’ clearly dealing with Pestilence. I decided to have The Black Death as Pestilence’s disease of choice because of the devastating effect the disease had on 14th Century Europe and the imagery that I could draw from it.

© 2018
Photo via Pixabay CC0

Poetry

Marks of Cain

Seven twisted souls lay with me in the night
Caress my lonely thoughts, whisper sweet delights
Dosing off as their seductive poison slowly spreads
Try to run, but weighed down by the liquid lead
Hopelessly scratch at the demons in my veins
On my arms and feet, I wear the marks of Cain
Seeing darkness as the poppy begins to flower
Creeping over and enclosing my mind in a bower

 

Continuing the drug related theme of ‘A New Reality’ but with my more familiar bleak and dark tones. Thought it would be interesting to have the two contrasting poems about the same subject.

© 2018
Photo via Pixabay CC0

Poetry

A New Reality

Mind untethered and eyes truly open
To the freezing sun and lush crimson grass oceans
Fuzzy air to the touch and tasting unfamiliar emotions
Lost and found in the new reality I’ve intricately woven

 

A short psychedelic piece of poetry that deviates from my usual bleakness (don’t worry my next poem is familiarly bleak). The main reason I wrote this though was to break up the general darkness of the poems I write and try something different.

© 2018
Photo via Pixabay CC0

Poetry

To dust, you will return

Standing in a world where man has returned to dust,
Is this our reckoning for sins of wrath, greed and lust?
No flood for the wicked, no ark for the meek,
The cruel have flourished, no room for the weak.
Some still try to find comfort in grace,
Not even screams are heard as the hungry devour their face.
No morsels left, only thy neighbour.
Carving the meat proves to be hard labour.
Wandering the barren earth with no one listening to the pleas.
Woe to the inhabiters of the earth and sea.

 

‘To dust, you will return’ is set in a post-apocalyptic earth with a starving human population that has turned to cannibalism to survive. I employ a fair amount of religious imagery throughout the poem. The poem took me surprisingly little time to write after struggling to write anything for a while. And ‘To dust, you will return’ continues the dark and violent themes that seem to recur in all my poems.

© 2018
Photo via Pixabay CC0