Long Dribs Poems

 Translation of Eric Mottram’s Poem 33 in Interrogation Rooms by T. Wignesan

33.  on a vu un homme courir/ de la scène de crime un homme est maintenant en train d’aider/ la police avec...

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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...

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Silly Sally sells books, this week there's a sale -
               New titles each Friday; I go without fail.
   ...

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There is no ‘you’ or ‘I’
Except that you choose
to call the fat clouds a name
and make them feel like overlords upon the others.

And, there is neither ‘you’ nor ‘I’
when we collect in droplets into rain
and...

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Vast skies, the tiny drop’s soul now ascending
Dying, to heaven helplessly heading
On the ground,a corps, dried, into vapor turning.
Hard-hearted heat, its flesh mercilessly still biting.

A condoling cloud the driblet’s life saving
Caring,on its back with compassion...

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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...

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Hardly venture into such verse.
In her bedroom, she wrote her curse.
She despised bright pupils at Yale.
If water drops could tell their tale.

She went on long walks in the drought.
They urged her to blend in and...

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“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...

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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...

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I’m not on social media
And yet I have a group
Of buddies I have never met;
I know them from the Soup.

We comment on each other’s poems
And through each varied post,
We learn, in dribs and drabs, about
What...

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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...

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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...

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