September 5, 2016Bioman, Flash, Poem, Poet, Poetry, The Daily Writ, Uncategorized Leave a comment Serrated Edge Waving words around like a naked blade Serrated grammar shows The edginess of the situation The strength of God Wends through my shoulder And into mine hand Never should such passion Be wrong. Warmth flows With blood, blood flows With white sand and running Wavelets of salinated Tears. Copyright B E Saunders 2016 Share this:TwitterFacebookPrintLinkedInEmailLike this:Like Loading...
