and post notes and photos about your poem like Keith Trestrail.
The vines of fear reap its satanic fruit
in the hot sands and cold desert winds of war;
bitten by the martyr, the jihadist, the brute!
May its seeds of hate at its poisoned core
wither and die and bear nevermore.
For the Five Line Metaphor contest
Copyright © Keith Trestrail | Year Posted 2015