Death Rides At Midnight

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Death rides at midnight

Filling the land with blight

He casts a frightful image

As he rides through the village

Submitted: November 04, 2019

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Submitted: November 04, 2019

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Death rides at midnight

Filling the land with blight

He casts a frightful image

As he rides through the village


His frightful scythe gleams

Wet with the blood of unrealized dreams

The cold, hard metal

Is uncaring enough to unsettle


Beneath his dark hood

Lies nothing good

Only the husk of a man

Who signals the end of a lifespan


His skeletal horse

He rides along his dutiful course

Whinnying as he stops

To kill the farmer's crops


Solemn is his duty

To take away life's beauty

Unbearable to a living man

The underworld's ghastly helmsman


The pistol is his herald

In his black cloak appareled

Weapons of war

Bring him to the door


His job is made no easier

Nor and breezier

By mankinds love of violence

Or vile fraudulence


All the thousands of young souls

Lives lost without completing their goals

Brought to a swift end

By Death only to attend


Death rides at midnight

Filling the land with blight

He casts a frightful image

As he rides through the village

Searching for souls to pillage


© Copyright 2020 Ken Mears. All rights reserved.

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