When Death Sang Softly to Me

The land was dark, tho mine eye doth see

Bands of angles, oh so heavenly!

Twas then my body shook with pain,

Visions of rapture, a dark form came.

With hair translucent as angles wings,

His coat obsidian black.

Peaked lips pale white, dead from the grave,

He cradled a sickle, so fresh with blood


O' a sweet tune death doth sing

So heavenly was his face

I took his hand, as we ascend, into a land of grace.

Comments 3 comments

\Brenda Scully 7 years ago

another good poem keep them coming

Stolas profile image

Stolas 7 years ago from Midwest Author

Thanks, this one i wrote in english class in 10th grade i think.

thanglynn07 profile image

thanglynn07 7 years ago from Long Beach, CA

Omg. I really like your writing. You remind me of...me...The way you write about death...welcoming death and viewing him as an angel instead. Coming to take you away, far from this disturbance...Alas...rid you of misery when you are finally in the land of grace. Death is feared because people see it as the end...Yet you and I see it as a new beginning...ahhhh...Land of Grace awaits...

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