seeking to forge a saga of the fat green frog

not only did our fat green frog sputter
mushy fly parts that yet clung to the lips,
but like a script a scowl beamed and by beam
we mean the beam went out quite outwardly
eyes more enlarged than the eyes this little
isle’s zoological departments
were supremely versed in, knowing to watch
out for though not like they had to tiptoe

through a minefield or a meadow of mines
dressed in red white and blue wildflowers
and as the story already stated,
this amphibious world had to favor
lilies and the lily pad, though it seems
they overlooked the lagoon status
of the general setting…. no the mines did
not err at all; they never met one mime.

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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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