Joey Jones


The Pale Horse - Poem by Joey Jones

I hear the sound
of the pale white horse.
Its thundering hoofs
beating to time's
familiar rhythm.

I search the rider's fiery gaze
finding no remorse
just a poignant resolve
to stay the coming course

I smell the blood
of my yesterdays
raining down
from his risen sword
each drop a wasted moment
forever lost to me in time.

He now decays
my every thought
and plagues my every hour
he infects my dreams
with his pestilence
while he lays waste to my today

He'll lead his beasts
along the coming road
while ravaging my plans
leaving me gaunt
and famished
as together they devour my
tomorrows

His slow and steady gallop
thunders to the beat
of the ticking clock
a cadence played
to its rhythm
heralding a faint prelude
to my eventual requiem



© Joey Jones 2/13

Revelation 6: 7-8
King James Version (KJV)
7 And when he had opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth beast say, Come and see.
8 And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth.

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Poem Submitted: Monday, June 3, 2013

Poem Edited: Friday, August 2, 2013


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