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Poems Submitted by Our Readers

Bob Jackson: THE PALE HORSE

The Pale Horse

When death immortal rides his pale horse into the night,
With the edge of his sharp scythe whistling in the wind
There will be a death, tonight a soul will take flight.
A spirit he will carry , as he passes this way again.

The dark rain clouds cover the pale yellow moon light
The wind whips the leaves among the marble stones
The smell of the dark earth points your way in the night
An open grave, where tomorrow someone will be alone

An old man sits mourning, his head against a marble stone
The glint of steel in his hand, what thoughts are in his head?
An old owl sits on a cold tomb, and watches in silence, alone
Through the tears you feel his pain,will morning find him dead?

Death rides his horse of pale color, with hoofs made of steel.
He wears a black cloak around him, and his face he dose hide.
If Death passes you by, it's a cold chilling frost you will feel
But if you ever see his face, then you know that you have died.

Turn not around, if you hear hoofs in the dark  cool night
Rest assured, his scythe had not come for you this time
Death immortal rides silent on his pale horse in the moon light
The chill that haunts you, is not but the fear in your own mind.


Bob Jackson

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