Whoa, Neville!! They say revenge is a dish best served cold. Well, this poem is cold, very cold indeed. It drips with the “sting” you felt and perhaps still feel? Betrayal is a dish with rotted food, and served with a smile. But to have it shoved in your face takes betrayal to another level. While I liked your poem, I have to leave the room cause it’s just too damn cold in here. After this, Neville I think you might want to put that pen in the oven, warm it up a little. And whatever you do, do not eat that food!!!

Curt

Powerfully penned, Neville. Your words sting in this one my friend. Outstanding write with excellent detail per usual. Appreciate you.

Damian

Wow, fantastic write. I was drawn in by the wonderful, descriptive phrasing…the combination of love and disappointment. No need to see the photo..,I already see it. Well done.

Superb work. Powerful imagery.

Thanks Thomas 😎👍

Brilliant imagery. You bring this to life.

You are not the only one who got enlightened like this, and the truth it’s not that we are not smart, or can be easily deceived, in fact we are more intelligent than this, it’s just that we don’t think in their ways, or/and that our hearts doesn’t feel like theirs, but we learn don’t we? These incidents teach us that life is not like us or our hearts, how we think or feel, there is goodness and there is badness.

Brilliantly penned, Neville. Sharp and precise imagery my friend, once again you know how to tell a story. Appreciate you.

Damian

Thanks a bundle Damian .. That’ll do nicely sir .. very nicely indeed .. Neville 😎👍

This has anger and sadness at what people have fallen for.

damn. No sharp instruments for you. Yet your pen is cutting!

Bravo Damian, expertly poemed sir .. I can hardly wait for spring myself .. Neville 😎👍

Powerful work.

Your rhyming skills are becoming masterful, Damian. I love the effortless flow in this. That change of season can be exemplified by many on youtube who are tired of life’s games. Great work here.

We are so long overdue for one. I’m hunting light and warmth everywhere I can find it these days. I think we all are. I’ll gather dead fall if you get some matches. We can dance around the bonfire of hope, my friend

”Stillborn inside a think tank”

That alone cooked the cerebral synapse…
Here you go … still throwin poetic anchors into
this sea of rhapsodic artistry

Much respect always

Naaj