serpent in green sickness
seems frozen but slithers
in the old mercurial
motion and does for us bleed
that sly wink, serpents no fools,
even serpents who barely won
elementary accolades,
knowing we all want to use
lotion to suit; oh but why the red
flooding our faces; all do so,
lotions, motions, lovers, of all of us,
as the serpent isn’t the sick one
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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.
