Constance La France Poet Verse

Notes About The Poem

Voices of the Dead

I lay in my bed dreaming fighting with the darkness,
     Like a serpent the memories come creeping;
            The voices of the dead are so loud.

The past encompasses me like a thick blanket,
     I am trying so hard to push the pain away;
            The cemetery gate is opening wide.

There is a hush in the rows of tombs and tombs,
     The voices of the dead are whispering;
             Finally I cannot resist any longer.

I am falling into a dark void and I wander lost,
     Tossing and turning murmuring names in my sleep;
             The tomb is wrapped in fog and vines.

Standing before the cold engraved words in stone,
     I fall to my knees weeping and lamenting;
              In the dark purple cloudless night.


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Repost from August 16, 2013


Poetry/Verse/Voices Of The Dead
Copyright Protected, 08-656-046 16
All Rights Reserved, 2013, Constance La France

Received and NA in a 2013 contest


Entered into the Standard contest, Screwed, 2015 
sponsor, Rob Carmack, Judged 2015 

Eighth place

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Andrea Dietrich March 24, 2015 at 2:11 PM I love the atmosphere this imparts. Kind of like Poe! You wrote this on an Aug. 16, the date of my dear stepbrother's birth (who died years ago) and also my wedding date!!

Richard Lamoureux March 24, 2015 at 6:47 AM Knowing your story these words are that much more impactful.

David Meade March 22, 2015 at 11:45 AM The music of the night is scary seductive -- luring us away until we are screaming upon our open grave! A dark, deep and dynamic write . . . of course I love reading Steven King -- what can I say!! 7, Fav