Author Archives: Timmy the Scribbler

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.

I know why my mojo goes away

Scram, skedaddle and shoo oh ye mood polluter annoying and vile. Well rah-rah you are preaching for your team – as do opponents whose numbers compete. Must be nice to never fret or second-guess every aspect of everything from the … Continue reading

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doubting revelry

Excuse me for my wayward attitude. You see I missed seminary ivy. You know there are such things as libraries; encyclopedias; or a sleek swift perched on a line, trilling, while watching the river slide by. And how do you … Continue reading

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soppy supper

the diner drooling regarded supper grateful the haunches were very tender, saying with gravy diving off the fork absently held aloft – we are lucky our chef is not cut from a poet tree, as in being moody when serving … Continue reading

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fated for poetry?

When really getting a good look at the magical actions these buttons are capable of – as in dimension crisscross and zigzag; sober or highly inebriated, well yeah, fireworks ensue – brightly and loud they do ensue. And secrecy is … Continue reading

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the river is its own mind

the emeralds melted and are sliding as a messy mass towards a mental destiny which width forbids the journey from proceeding unhidden – and if unbidden or given unhindered freedom to pass is at this point immaterial as well as … Continue reading

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redo repentance

Originally posted on Timmy the Scribbler:
then came along while whiling innocently as an innocent by a softly flowing bank, watching birds bathe downy secrets, the concrete image in a witch caricature bearing brutality in three-dee photography and bent on…

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damn duck mortals

She is a phantom favoring feathers though souls wiser may have had more practice in getting started well before the dawn and in scoping the local eateries. Maybe she missed the river hatchery and maybe she shed a tear when … Continue reading

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