2014 #97

the dove in the kitchen
has fallen asleep
under the table with kitty

and buttons are triggered and the tail
twitches like it is the tiger
guarding God’s arboretum, or

the god of the kitties
who wears a mane of gold
that flows from the chest
the hunter would think treasure

but will be in for one whopper
surprise because true gold
is malleable, is not stiff, like this

troops rush in to ransack
and mules haul
through mud in wagons

and on presentation day

the lily explosion blooms
do arouse a lot of wows
to permeate

the room;
until melting from
a splash of burgundy


About Timmy the Scribbler

Love to write all kinds of stuff I love writing so many different kinds of stuff it is a constant struggle to narrow the focus to a manageable handful and let the others go. But a few years ago I dipped my fingers into a poetry pie and of all my uncertainties, one thing that is no uncertainty is that it is one passion that must remain, so maybe that's the one. I do dearly delight in chopping up fictional works into stanzas and syllables.
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5 Responses to 2014 #97

  1. K. A. Brace says:

    Reblogged this on The Mirror Obscura and commented:
    This is an excellently subtle anti-war poem that I hope you reprise for Memorial day Timmy. >KB


  2. Saw this one over at KB’s, liked it, so I came over and read a few more…mighty fine writing.


    • cometotimmy says:

      well I appreciate the visit and pass a thanks to KB.
      You know, we just try to figure it out as we go along and there’s a lot of that to do so might as well try to enjoy the ride, though it is bumpy and the layovers seem to end up as reasons to establish residence, sometimes, or often. But that’s half the fun.


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