The Grapes of Mirth
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Poetic Form: Free Verse
Inspired: 2021 July 08
*1st Place*
A Brian Strand July 18
Contest Judged: 2021 July 18
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
*1st Place*
Writing Prompt - Grasp
Contest Judged: 2021 July 12
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Quote: "The clouds appeared and went away, and in a while they did not try anymore." -- by John Steinbeck from his novel, The Grapes of Wrath
Image: Grape Vine Sunlight by Pixabay
As death mimics love itself and clutch a throbbing heart,
kindling consolation to savor flight, farther and farther
beyond the inner yelps released as vibrating soar easily,
stimulating stress to execute its portion and naught idle,
merely trounce its climatic claim with an uttered gasp.
Exhale nor inhale as a soul embarks anew venture upon
a road that seems less traveled, albeit, a much-traveled
road, nonetheless, deliberating back to that grey hued
frame, thoroughly placed in peace, smiling at once was a
vestige of their former self as hands clasp naught wave.
The hours, the days, the years, all appear as if time itself
is naught placed on hold, but practically be nonexistent,
then again, seeing the circumstances unfold, obviously,
one will be able to grasp that there is no other direction
of a skyless opaque mist, except a harmonious presence.
As distinction advents and all be so unique and naught
strange, more and more a glide into the everlasting light
and that the glorious manifestation established hereon,
whereby, one came upon Steinbeck as he was sitting by
vines, beaming, as he was writing, The Grapes of Mirth.
Copyright © Hilo Poet | Year Posted 2021
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