2014 #128

stag beetle slips
the overcoat off
and mandibles squeak

a blessing to the mansion’s
main crustacean
who just nods and a whisker

dips and a whisper
hails an usher
who calls a cicada mother

who leads the way to the cushions
as the lights have already dimmed
and butterflies,

nervous about this opening,
pass around a really
tiny nectar flask


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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