Best Drabs Poems


Premium Member Chasing the Sun

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
Form: Couplet

Premium Member Draft

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
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member Reflected In the Honeymoon

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


Kinky Monty

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!
Form: Limerick

Spillingwillie: Two Heads Indeed Better Than One

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
Form: Sonnet

An Ode To My Pc

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
© Lama Atoui  Create an image from this poem.


Circus

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.

Premium Member Bubbling Over

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

Life

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
Form: Ode

Time

“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!

Self Burning

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.

Premium Member Respecting Icicles

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

Gibbering Jabbering Gibberish Haint No Recipe To Sound Glib

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.

I'Ll Be Back For You

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.
© DM Babbit  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Verse

Quandry

QUANDARY 

They said the deserts empty. 
They said that space is too. 
They said you’d go for many miles 
and find there’s nothing new.

We said there’s life on moons.
We said there’s life on mars!
Yet nothing found we, deep in space, 
nor in between the stars.

They sought for tiny creatures, 
too small for their own eyes. 
They sought minutes, 
in microscopes or LHC, for ties.

We gave a name to quarks,
and to particles that spin! 
We gave the names to each 
new one, as we collided them.   

They jettisoned in spacesuits, 
and in deep diving suits in seas. 
They jettisoned in obvious spots, 
to what’s hidden in deep freeze.

The finite became the infinite, 
the infinite, finite! 
We found substance in the emptiness
and the emptiness outright. 

The something found is all at once. 
There’s something there and here.
There’s subatomic bits and drabs, 
and a chunky biosphere. 

Who said there’s lots of nothing there!
What said there’s nothing here?
The space between the molecules,
proves nothing’s everywhere. 

Yet looking far away up close 
and close from far away...
There’s elegance and substance  
in, all that we survey. 

-Edlynn Nau 
© May 12, 2018
© Edlynn Nau  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

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