Best Drabs Poems
Rushing through each day, as if I had not a care,
head long toward the sun screaming, "catch me if you dare."
Dripping drabs of liquid sunshine burn my deft eye.
While seeking answers to the question, why, why! Why?
Into the sun I run, my skin so hot and dry,
as the dusky penciled pastels of twilight smear.
Through tight clinched lids the sun glares, blind I'll be I fear,
always grasping for truth, but my head just can't clear
my thoughts on the tautly stretched canvas of my mind.
Race and run and fill my lungs, still I fall behind
playing catch with the sun, and all I seem to find,
I'm racing toward the horizon of tomorrow.
Please, one more chance, for a moment I can borrow,
but blithe sun denies me, leaving me in sorrow,
while in the distance the light slowly fades to dark.
Truth or naught, who can say, the end is cold and stark
the meaning is lost in life's fading rainbow arc,
enveloping me in my sadness and despair.
Dripping drabs of liquid sunshine burn my deft eye
as the dusky penciled pastels of twilight smear
my thoughts on the tautly stretched canvas of my mind.
I'm racing toward the horizon of tomorrow
while in the distance the light slowly fades to dark
enveloping me in my sadness and despair.
07/29/16
This you see is a draft
Minds little notes of lines and verse
In dribs and drabs
In prose, I stab and stab
Repeating oft said words
Expressions rehashed to be reheard
Yearning only for that one to see
This my attempt at being me
The ebb and flow of a sadness boat
Feeble attempts to keep afloat
Yet drowning in words it seems to be
Prose no longer setting me free
Learning more and knowing less
Wise words not heeded at best
For lingering in the dampness there
Is death, burning slow with its evil stare
ripples of water torture accepted
the wrinkle of time descending
mannahly marantic romance
torticollis dribs and drabs of syringe
honey’d seeds remain; cakes fade away
dawn will erase; placidity will forget
but the depths release their seamonsters
reflected in the honeymoon, between palms
with firework stars overhead; eternal bliss
9/25/2020
Sponsor: William Kekaula
Impact and Metaphors Poetry Contest
*mannahly - mannah turned into an adverb
Now ladies and gents, let's bring no offense
to the lads that wear tightly clad drabs
They liked the film Kinky Boots
And have watched The Full Monty
So now they dance naked and/or dress drag!
You make the minutes dribble
Down the meanderings of time
First drizzling
Then dripping
In dribs and drabs
Then dropping
In driblets
That drain the hours
And drown the days
And I
With my drowsy eyes
My drifting mind
And shaking hand
Turn a deaf ear
To the hue and cry
To the whys
And the wherefores
of your fatal lure
For I have no time
To let go of you
And live my life
As you have already
eaten it up
I flipped through the pages of my brain
Hoping the words would spill out from the notes.
Although I didn’t know the letters to play
But once it pops up, I would surely know.
Ideas started dropping in dribs and drabs
But none could wet the ground of my desire.
Its sound I should know with a few playbacks.
All I heard shocked me, till I was tired
So I sought an extra head which I found
Full and small hence so light for my neck
Ideas now flowed ceaselessly as we ploughed
We came so close but could not get there yet
Finally out the blue now appeared
Spillingwillie, the name my blog now bears
A poem dedicated to my friend Onuh Dorcas without whom the name wouldn’t exist.. Hope you love it
Stands a beautiful tree firmly with its gracious branches and boughs
On a bank of a running or on an edge of round pond
May be it is on the skirt of triangular lake
Natural or artificial
Or it is in the middle of an esplanade
It can grow anywhere,
In the moon or in your orchard
The place where it will grow is none of your business
Just see its beauty and show thankfulness
Feel its usefulness and express gratitude
But here it is not my job to describe the charms of a tree
Neither is it to make you understand how to appreciate delicacy or loveliness
As other poets delightfully do in their handsome and alluring drabs
That duty I left gladly long before for idiots
As I got another work of other kinds
Another responsibility, another task of other types
To split the beans and peel the skins
To smooth the bones and puncture the balloon
Wherever I find stupidity, nonsense and bloody foolishness
In the middle of telling you these serious issues
I see a spectacle of a donkey
Near the valley among the green leaves
In their words, in between their lips
At the tip of their tongues, at depth of your throats
And below in the meadow in the bushes of shrubs and grasses
A circus is run by the jokers and baboons
The promoters and the patrons of the parade try hard
To catch my precipitated attention and perpetuated concentration
Baffled I remain and look at the sky before taking a sigh
I decided not to give favourable response as wise men know
This is neither my kind of monkey nor is this my kind of show.
The concept of emptiness
The vanity of vanity
What is enjoyment in you
The opaque that walks in the night
Like a strange soul upon the stygian bank
Wallowing in the pool of abomination
Dribs and drabs man is dashing away
Like smoke in the air
No one can stop the dregs of you
Life, the femme fatale
You enchant and en masse all
You ensnare the brilliant against the dull
You excel as light excels darkness
You ensconce nature with your charm
You enshroud the fact of nature
Your threnody is ambiguous
Now the sacred hope is stained
Man triumph another woe
Who will preach the woe that beside man
Taboo is an icon commemorating
Arrive, white aliens and save our soil
Aerial dribs and drabs, a sidewalk canvas
As a toddler chases bubbles her mother blows
from confectionary soap,
Fluttering fluidity in spring air
Child's laugh, a mosaic of innocence, discovery and glee
Her run after each globe, unsteady, twisted gravity
Her footwork shifts in warfare wobble, no sinkhole falling
Her reach to pop each bubble, circus kerfuffle, giddy,
giggles that swing like a trapeze artist,
while a mother retrieves
unexpected memory
shards of recovery
that coat a guarded self
Neverland jester, a child's guileless glow,
routing air baubles
unconstrained by space,
untethered from fear,
avoiding a fall off the planet
to limited mobility
For sometimes life's march
doesn't start on time
Poem revised: April 19, 2021
“TIME”
Time is life and necessary
It inhales in dribs and drabs
It exhales colossally-
It is gradual and progressive
It is time, he hiccups and talks
He sucks and chews
She crawls and walks
It is time she learns and drives
Time is work
And should be hold tenaciously
For it is shimmering but billowing
When fiddle while Rome burns.
Time is situational and circumstantial
For all the hustle and bustle of life
For it strides with thorns, love and merry
It sinks contemporarily and fashionably.
Time is rendezvous
But stings in a haste
It is merry in a state of trust
And it bites in betrayal
Time is death anyway
For as it beats in seconds and minutes
It magnetizes five-years to fifty-years
Until thou kiss thy mother earth
Moreover, time is everything!
I slip into a circle
Or a circle becomes my surrounding
With certainty i can’t tell you
Now I feel the avoidance
The criminal negligence
And the cruel apathy
From the vibrant neighbours
Eating, sleeping and hoarding
Laughing at the cost of dignity
To tell spade a spade
Against the piece of drabs
And inspire someone
Striving for the best
They all are brave enough
To nourish the sycophant
But too coward to face this fool
Hammering on with words
Their inborn follies
Being a narrow minded
On caste, religion and race
They behave like they are
On the tip of an apex
But they are really small
Like a speck of cloud
Floating in the lap of
Vastness of endless space
Yet they feel proud of
For their being born
In a house where
Only meanness grows
For the blood they carry
In their swollen veins
Though it is not blue
Yet they go arrogant
With stubbornness of a mule
With mulishness of a wild goat
They will reach nowhere
Whereas I will rise
Like the sparing smoke
As I know to burn myself
Alone in the fire
In the hearth of all indifference.
In dribs and drabs, in fits and starts,
the elders slowly congregate;
in the common room of the seniors' home,
they patiently sit and wait.
Some are wheeled in, some simply shuffle
in orderly fashion, without kerfuffle.
They've all been told
there's "gonna be a show"
put off by some "young people"
who (chances are) they don't know.
Many are quite alert and very aware
delighted to be together
and to have an experience to share.
Others come in a different mental state,
in their own little worlds,
seemingly uncerebral
yet dignified, quiet, sedate.
The entertainers have already arrived, in fact,
and as soon as the seniors come in
they start to interact,
exchanging pleasantries with hellos,
how-do-you-dos and "what're-ya-ats!";
smiles and handshakes easily given
with banter and casual chit-chat.
The nurses and attendants smile,
noting the connectivity,
and across the room faces brighten
at the growing sense of fun and festivity.
A happy mood pervades the place
as the singers smile and sing;
their voices effortlessly fill the air,
easy, relaxed, warm, soothing.
Lots of "old" songs are played and sung:
"Country Roads", "Danny Boy",
"Kiss an Angel Good Morning".
"If you know the words, please sing along!"
and so many of them do, with voices soft or strong.
But what sets this show apart
is the interaction
between singers and seniors;
their reaction and sense of satisfaction
of a diversion from the mundane,
a vivid and vibrant distraction.
And those with minds in altered states
are aroused from their lethargy,
hearing the music and sensing joy,
perhaps remembering when they felt such ecstasy.
Often, the singers will reach out to touch and hold a hand.
Elderly eyes light up and smiles show they understand.
A few of the more able-bodied are invited to dance,
a reminder of the long-ago days of youth and romance.
After an hour or so, the concert reaches its conclusion
with applause and cheers, compliments said in profusion.
The Sunshine Singers are pleased with a job well done.
The seniors and staff feel delight and satisfaction;
and everyone is enveloped in a warm glow:
the simple joy that comes from human connection.
Icicles arrested in time freeze over tears cried and abandoned
they shear and fear in torn abandon when solutions have dried
and our mind’s flow screams in silence as a dark crystal night hangs
like daggers from thunderous storms
Once the solar eclipse rewinds and points at the sky there is a tiny
glimpse of the rainbow as drips and drops turn drabs into hope
when sepia seeps out and the soul gathers colour
Beware of the wetlands and cherish the moment
endings are beginnings and time does not stand still
Ofttimes yours truly assiduously tries to adlib,
but blubbers like a landlubber
at sea treading water donned with bib
(that doubles as yellow
spongy bobbing life jacket)
furiously doing doggy paddle
riding the next tidal wave
hoop fully washing me ashore to crib
if need be to dig an underwater channel
painstakingly slow drabs and drib.
The English language I simply adore
though offtimes methinks waxing eloquent
affects listeners as yours truly a bore
in record time flapping waxed lips
beholds one gordian
tongue tied knot major chore,
whereby I wanna bolt out figurative door
feeling deplorable and stuck
analogous to Eeyore.
Ache 'n to launch into a monologue
or chime into ongoing dialogue
me noggin off times generates brain fog
mental state mimicking one,
who quaffed an over abundance of grog,
which for this teetotaler would constitute
a mere thimble full of drink,
perhaps rum enhanced eggnog
just one sip and boing I go
topsy turvy as if a felled log
hit me over the head
rendering me unconscious.
Thus wood explain mine altered state
though unsightly gash on pate
battle scar leveled playing field
with the missus, 't other significant primate
supplementing and complementing
one aging long haired
pencil (vane ya) necked geek
being caged, yet free
to roam within human zoo
both, (née all) of us captive
on carousel of time
nsync with every other *****sapien
begot to participate in circle game.
All superfluous joking aside,
I strive to groom conversation,
whereby uninterrupted flow of words
(versus fumfering, hemming, hawing,
stammering, stuttering...), thine
general oral feedback paradigmatic guide
ever diligent to think
before I speak with pride
else I heep discourtesy
upon myself and chide
yours truly with harsh rebukes,
which maybe tantamount
going off the mountainside
plummeting into the abyss
engenders an unpleasant
metaphoric roller coaster ride,
and if crash test dummy doth survive -
upon gibbet he will be tried
punishment broadcast world wide
for flagrant horrendous verbal
egregiousness (waywardness) he belied.
Midnight
and the darkened silence
dreams
waking in shadows
looking for you.
Morning rises
slow and steady in the sky
burning
inner passions
seeking for you.
Mid afternoon
falls in dribs and drabs
tearing
in hot summer sun
waiting for you.
Mid evening shade
cools and calms the heart
beating
tired of the day
wanting you still.
Midnight calls
slip sliding to sleep
dreaming
pulling images and figures in
I'll be back for you.