messing more with introductory para-strophes

and so the villagers were happy
to be their villager selves
within their villages. Each felt
the world outside warranted
enough suspicion
as to press

their faces deeper
into their village maidens,
though if the face-presser
would be male he’d understand his tongue
talents could not compete
with a maiden’s handmaiden
because in this village, maidens

and handmaidens often
bunked and when bunking often came
to sliding nightwear out of the way
and toned legs of the maiden
would interlock like cool taffy
her handmaiden’s legs and soft words
would give way to soft kisses, and so on;
well anyway, the fortunate
young villager gentleman,

if he fell in the class
considered blessed by their heavens,
would have access to maidens
and handmaidens for practice,
assuming the maidens
and handmaidens were not already

with themselves wrapped
in a tight occupation;
meaning to say that such a fortunate
fellow might be able to send
in a fine enough accounting
for his dining etiquette. For maidens
and handmaidens the sopping

of sauces was in their nature,
and few were ever but bit with great joy
when getting to dart and dab their tongues
they nightly exercised. Oh but see
how fumbles our suddenly
enfeebled prologue.

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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.
This entry was posted in exercise, fiction, poetry, stanza-para-strophes, writing and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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