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JOSE GERVIC LABE, JR.
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Gervic's Poetic Explorations #845063 added June 10, 2015 at 3:12am
Restrictions: None
The Tendrils Of Life
The Tendrils of Life
The world beneath this forlorn sky
Battered painfully by their ceaseless cries
Echoes linger down the abyss
Reverberate back to trample
Every ignoble souls
Their ire won't quell, wrath won't subside
Chained in continuous struggles
To flee from their miserable lives
Chasing happiness that's too swift
Too slippery to take a hold
Their stares were trenchant darts
Piercing every piece of Him
Yet He never gave up despite the swears
Instead, had set foot on the ground
In the land cursed by them
He healed every furious soul
Quelled their unquenchable ires
Soothed and touched the wounds
Brought by the fervent whips
Of the tendrils of life
These tendrils once whipped me like no end
Until I bleed and lost my feel
This land I found my first breath
Fourteen years ago
Pushed me to do the worst
I feared to step this land of hate
That wished for none but my bitter fate
They wanted me not, They wanted my absence
To get lost and vanish in oblivion
Like a nightmare in everyone's sleep
Here I am- lost, alone, frightened
Everyone hated me, they wanted me... dead
** Image ID #2007161 Unavailable **
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Form: FREE VERSE
Prompt:  Image 1
Line Count: 32 lines
Written for: "Invalid Item"  and "Invalid Item"
Beneath the Bruised Sky, Rewrite
The whispers of the wind carry whispers of woe,
Beneath a sky bruised by countless tears that flow.
Echoes of anguish dance on a desolate stage,
Crushing spirits trapped in eternal rage.
Theirs is a tempest, a fury unchained,
A never-ending fight for solace unclaimed.
They chase shadows of joy, ever quick and shy,
While despair's tendrils twist to the heart's dry cry.
Their eyes, sharp blades, pierce through and through,
Seeking chinks in armor, scars they never knew.
He stands unyielding, amid the storm's cruel din,
A hand outstretched, where mercy may begin.
He soothes the flames that lick at troubled souls,
Quells the maelstrom where anger takes its toll.
He mends the scars etched by life's bitter whip,
Weaving whispers of hope with gentle lip.
These tendrils, once my tormentors, tight and grim,
Drew crimson tears, stole hope, and dimmed my light within.
This land, my cradle, turned a battlefield,
Where fourteen winters left my spirit chilled.
Fear was my cloak, I walked in shadows deep,
Hunted by hate, where nightmares learn to sleep.
They longed for absence, a hollow space so wide,
For me to vanish, in their darkness hide.
But lost and lonely, I stand and raise my chin,
The embers of defiance flicker from within.
No longer victim, in the face of despair,
I choose to rise, breathe hope into the air.
Beneath the bruised sky, I'll carve my own way,
Embrace the scars, greet each dawning day.
With hands outstretched, I'll meet the pain and strife,
And weave a tapestry of courage, sewn with life. |
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