His Name Is Death
Become a
Premium Member
and post notes and photos about your poem like Constance La France.
Vivid dreams, dreams frightening, in bright technicolor,
Recurring over and over, day and night, unfolding;
Deeply, I plunge into the oblivion of an empty black void.
And I am free falling, tumbling, plummeting down.
Again and again, I do the same things within this dream,
And I am the girl with long raven hair flowing down;
There is a man who is beckoning for me to come with him,
He stands with arms outstretched, whispering my name.
I have seen this man who comes for me, his face so sad,
My mind is swirling, twirling and I am screaming, go away;
But, he takes my hand and we walk into the dark unknown,
Through tangled vines and bare branches like claws.
I fear him so much because I know his name, it is Death,
Why does he come in dreams, why does he call me;
And each time I fear my weary eyes to close and dream,
For I know that Death will be whispering my name.
The first time I saw him, he was weeping,
as he took my dead sister's soul away. . .
______________________________
June 5, 2013
Poetry/Verse/His Name Is Death
Copyright Protected, ID 06-483-551-05
All Rights Reserved, 2013, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Poems to Keep You Awake,
sponsor, Roy Jerben, Judged 06/10/2013
Third Place
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2013
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment