I feel the glint 

The sparkle to the edge

Razor sharp, lancing through 


Penetration of the intended 


The verbal lancing of your boil

Of the festering puss

The discharge of your resentment 


The relief you have, I need too


Eyes  rage

Faces bloom, the crimson colour 

Of hate


We fail to negotiate 


Fists fly

Blood splatters

We both lose


to win does not matter 

◄ The seer

Three Senryu (I think) ►



Wed 10th Apr 2019 05:53

Thanks Don, very much appreciate that you think it is.

All the best des

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Don Matthews

Tue 9th Apr 2019 22:56

Very good Desmond

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