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Crisis

Ocean swells with anxiety
as the firmament
displays its proprietary
and the heaven
splits the sky.
The humble ship
moves along
with its sail
about to die.

To and fro does
the vessel sway.
The hull’s about to
give away.
The empty deck
longs for hands
an anxious eye
to look
for land.

Gritty
not to succumb
it fights its way
through
the roaring storm.

Finally
the modest craft
has its way.
The gale
subsides
as it wakes up
to the break
of day.

A contest entry

I want the truth and nothing but the truth so help me god... :)

    I plan to revise this poem: please leave constructive criticism!
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Comments


  • Danna Hobart
    March 2

    Edit | Reply
    This is lovely. I like the movement of the piece, and that the rhyme is not overwhelming. Thank you for entering.


  • LoveHate
    February 22
    Edit | Reply
    wow, this is really creative!!