2014 #163

it gets hard when the coed
walks these evenings
joggers are far
from the season for sweats
though frosty strollers have taken

practice runs; hardness
the offspring of what introduces
imagery, meaning it gets hard
to erect defense reliably
sturdy to eject glossy applicants

sitting so intimate satins
molest with whispers the purest
purist who just happened to pick the most
wrong second to glance; she’s a coed
who has surely been oft read, dreamt of

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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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