The Horsemen Four Poem by Tim Vallie

Into the world come Horsemen four
Named Conquest, Famine, Death, and War
They are God's wrath on wicked wings
Heaven's justice, dealt by hellish things

Conquest rides a great white steed
Driven by power, lust, and greed
He rides in mail of solid gold
He looks the hero, big and bold
No love, no honor, only victory
He must carve his name in history
Upon his head he wears a jeweled crown
Before him kings of men bow down
His will to conquer never bends
His thirst for power never ends

Famine rides through the fields of grain
He brings with him pestilence, hunger, and pain
Behind him the crops all wither and die
Yet he never shall be satisfied
His skin is rotted, sickly flesh
He wounds seep pus, forever fresh
From every breath he spreads disease
Famine's pain shall never ease
His horse is sickly, small, and black
Rotting corpses litter his track
Famines hunger shall never cease
And so he must forever feast

War rides upon a crimson horse
The path to battle his only course
In his trail, a river overflowing with blood
Yet still his enemies charge like a flood
His eyes set alight with hellish desire
The screams of the fallen, his unholy choir
Honor is truly his only constraint
The blood of the fallen, his grisly war paint
His thirst for battle shall never decrease
He is the wrath of God unleashed

Death trails in the others' wake
What they sew, he reaps, and takes
He rides upon a pale horse
He takes our souls without remorse
He comes for one, he comes for all
Before him all every man shall fall
Beneath his hood only darkness, a villain unclean
But if you peer through the shadows, Death can be seen
A skull ever grinning, for his eyes empty holes
The Angel of Death, Collector of Souls
He is the Bloody Reaper Grim
And where he goes, hell follows with him

The Horsemen are bringers of the end
From them, our world we cannot defend
They are dark servants of the Lord
They each command a mighty horde
They are the mighty Horsemen four
Named Conquest, Famine, Death, and War.