Constance La France Poet Verse

Death Whispers

I first met death when I was just four years old,
    Standing in the snow holding my mothers hand;
And on the road lay my sister Suzanne dead,
          Her blood soaking the pure white snow.

                       A black winged man, whispering.

I looked up at him and he gazed at me with sadness,
    His hand stroked my gleaming black hair;
And in my heart, a forever dagger burned with pain,
            He walks with me always just waiting.

                      This black winged man, whispering.

A few times in this journey I have come close,
    Stood at the gates of heaven waiting silently;
Only to be led back to the living by this winged man,
             "Not yet, not yet", he whispers in my ear.

                      He is beautiful, just like an angel.

Perhaps, death is my guardian angel that protects me,
     Taking pity on a broken little girl weeping,
My tears falling in the snow that cold, cold day;
             And I know in my heart that he will be there.

                      Stroking my hair when the end comes.


__________________________
December 12, 2014


Poetry/Verse/Death Whispers
Copyright Protected, ID 12-623-112-12
All Rights Reserved, 2014, Constance La France

For the Standard contest, Death Shadow, 
sponsor, Justin Border, Judged 12/2014

Honorable Mention

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Black Matta March 24, 2015 at 4:57 PM Well done! I like to read about death, and you wrote it very well.

Emile Pinet January 21, 2015 at 1:50 PM Very well said with grace, dignity and intent. A touching and eloquent description of Death. Well done. Emile. #7

Poet Destroyer A December 26, 2014 at 11:13 PM BROKEN, CONGRATULATIONS ... this is a nice sweet little HM... hugs.. Linda

Rob Carmack December 24, 2014 at 5:48 AM Death as the Guardian. Interesting role.

Andrea Dietrich December 21, 2014 at 5:21 PM wow, constance, this is a powerful poem about death and about the knowledge of it we can perceive. Love how you showed it in the personification of this angel. did your sister really die that way in the snow? That was so sad.

Nathan D. December 7, 2014 at 12:30 AM very excellent write. death as a guardian is a different take on the subject. very creepy though to have him around stroking your hair or whispering to you. good luck in the contest

Jan Allison December 2, 2014 at 5:17 PM simply heartbreaking - I can write no more:-( Hugs jan x

Annette Keachie December 2, 2014 at 2:24 PM Tragically beautiful. I love the flow of this poem! Please keep writing!

Darlene Gifford December 2, 2014 at 11:58 AM Losses are always with us and we miss those who have gone on ahead of us. So sorry about your sister. I know you must miss her. But we have the assurance we will see our loved ones again. Good luck with the contest. You sound like a winner to me! Blessings, Darlene

Carolyn Devonshire December 2, 2014 at 11:23 AM Dear, your talent shines in this compelling poem. I first encountered "death" when I was five and my grandfather died. He lived with us. How sad it must have been to lose your sister. I know you have had many losses in your life and just wanted you to know how much I have always loved your poetry. Blessings, Carolyn