2014 #161

so then the more bitter thorn
passed a whisper from a midnight
scribble session the stench of burnt
rubber was more than happy to

with a lengthy linger thoroughly
contaminate, passed it higher
than lower knowing upper
thorns were the more uppity

thorns, being the richer thorns
and were proud to swell or to swell
with pride was nothing to see
as shameful, being held in scorn

by first floor thorns any drunken
skunk or tipsy porcupine
could cock a hind leg and fertilize,
thus, the bitter thorn urged revolt

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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.
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