2014 #178

what saint would not walk
in a gait uneasy
when the stalwart
strut turns alarmingly squishy
and the old balls of brass
(or better the stew
so strong that so long
strongly stewed in those balls
of brass), groaning, grow,
increasingly queasy

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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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