wip extract set in stanzas (likely my favorite wordsmith activity)

“If we are not screams
what are we? Whatever we are
we are rather long.”

One of the softer
screams approached these
huddled utterances
and easily hooking
their collective attention,
said, or softly screamed,
“I apologize for how
they treated you back there.
I know they sound meaner
than they are or mean to be.”

“Must you scream at us?
Even here as we huddle
in confusion and we know
not where to find an Utterance Club
we may join without being screamed at?”

“Don’t get on this one’s case.
It is a scream. It screams.”

“Thank you. I was chosen
to come out here because
I am one of the softer
screams. In fact my application
did not find easy approval.
Some still consider me as one
who does not really belong
in their True Screams Only club.
But I did not venture out here
where screams are not the most
beloved of utterances. I came
out here to offer encouragement.”

“I hope you will get to it
sooner rather than later.
No offense. I know you cannot help it.
But despite the naysayers
you speak of you still come off
as an utterance that screams.”

“Very well. There are many
Moaning Clubs or Moan Clubs
way over there where the corner
signifies an entire county
friendly to the utterances
all the screams agree
you bear more resemblance
to than screams, though a few
of you seem closer to squeals,
and the good news, is that the land
over yonder is literally
littered with Moaning Clubs

and in fact entire Moaning Chapters,
is also a land that accepts the Squeal.
Oh yes, I’ve known of many a squeal
who tried to join our True Screams Only
and came  out here and pouted
just like you have done;
but when they went to that land
that yonder signification
behind the corner so dark,
well, they could not believe
how fast and easy they were woven
in with all the Moaning Chapters.”

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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.
This entry was posted in excerpt, exercise, no idea, para-strophe, playing with prosy things, poeticprosish, poetry and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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