"dabbler" poems
Oh, it's in this area of love, I've been wounded too many times
that my heart has gone numb as I'm now left dabbling in meters and rhymes.
Oct 6, 2023
Oct 6, 2023 at 8:22 PM UTC
David was born in a dreary wee spot
By the side of the mill in the dabbler's lot
His dad was a dabbler, all his long life
And his mother excelled as a dabbler's wife
When he grew to adulthood they 'prenticed him quick
Til he earned his diploma and dabbling stick
All day he would labour, at this and at that
In the tinkerer's workshop, upright or out flat
But his sunny demeanor was waxing and cracked
As in secret, he yearned for a thing which he lacked
For a life with out borders, impulsive and free
Where he'd live as a dolphin and leap through the sea
His mother had cried when he told of his dream
And his father was dead set against the whole scheme
There were tantrums, rebuttals and guilt trips galore
But young David was stubborn and made for the door
For the safety and warmth of the bus out of town
With a confident furrow entrenched in his frown
He tarried in places with odd sounding names
And confounded the groom of a good many dames
There were taverns and zoos where they'd shoot him on sight
So he took to decamping by cover of night
The journey was arduous, torrid and bleak
But he made it to Blackpool just shy of a week
The pier was bustling, jammed to the brink
But our David was not one to buckle or blink
He charged at the crowd with a deafening wail
They scattered, retreated and showed him their tail
When stood on the edge and admiring the weather
He casually cling-filmed his ankles together
Now hopping along like a fish out of water
He dived to his dream like a lamb to the slaughter
The moral should not be too taxing to spot
Be content with whatever you've currently got
Because sometimes a cloud is just low flying steam
And the universe gives not a crap for your dream
Washed up on the beach with a terminal chill
Lies Delusional David of Dabbler's Hill
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 4:28 AM UTC
the nobles cut off Rasputin's head, while the two in command of keeping Rasputin's head drunk multiplied and cut off the Romanov family's heads - and it snowed a serene symphony of snow as it did on a mime's piano - and Russian felt fed, and alive again... and those closest to the pigs' trough still bemoaned the events, on the centenary pinpoint in St. Petersburg.
i was in an Athenian brothel...
i know what ethnicity
entertained me... national pride?
if there ain't any kept with the
women... just forget the football
team performing to a gold standard
that might inspire families to stay
together or keep the children dreaming...
but of course... the Irish still have
their qualms about 3rd class on the Titanic
and the potato famine... and the English
asked Aladdin for a carpet to brush
their colonial past under it -
the Welsh? don't know, don't care -
the Scots? y'ir a haggen hag hag
dabbler in Yiddish and hang the lamb
gush of intestine as edible? pardon me
deep fried friend, 'e's from Mars...
no wonder it took him Colonel Cook
and some wacky Portugese Columbus
to create the global empire, upon which
the sun, never truly set, but upon which
the moon did settle from time to time,
to reverse it's fascist priority with a pinch
of panic that had no systematic authority -
or as the venom said:
the only thing worse than fascism is panic...
proof via Pompeii.
Jul 23, 2016
Jul 23, 2016 at 10:19 PM UTC
in my mind
i wax hysterical
and wane lyrical
but what you see is
is me drooling half formed words
upon humanity
in my mind
i flow poetical
and ebb noetics
what you see are gibberish
producing lips
in my mind shakespeare
my apprentice
longfellow, a dabbler
i am the king of rime
what you see...
an overzealous eejit
with a propensity to string
words together in an underwhelming
rhyme...
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 3:00 PM UTC
The
Amateur
The
Expert
The
Rookie
The
Aficionado
The
Freshman
The
Maestro
The
Dabbler
The
Craftsman
Poet
There's a place here
For everyone
With a passion
For words
Apr 10, 2020
Apr 10, 2020 at 12:27 AM UTC
Oh, yes, you should dabble amateurishly
With sketchbook, pen, guitar, and crescent wrench
With telescope and hiking boots and love
With verse that scans and prose that strongly speaks
For a dabbler, all the world is his adventure:
A coffee cup is as Old Santa Fe
A stroll in the garden a pilgrimage
To Canterbury or Santiago
And you should draw and write and sing these things
Oh, yes, you should dabble amateurishly
Jun 15, 2019
Jun 15, 2019 at 3:45 PM UTC
Her naked body
Always turn you on!
Her soft skins prospected love shower
Not any hone!
Her hairs to prevent your time to go any park, forest such as garden!
Because once time you'd play it by your fingure,
That time those peace gives you so much pleasure!
Her forhead makes you craved for kiss
The time you should framed those moment scared to miss!
Yeah.
Every girls want such a seemly gaitey.
She's have a dark deep eye!
There'r only place for beautiful spy!
May be is perfect place to dive
Without any rive.
Trust me it's doesn't matter you knows swimming or not!
Her eyes is only satiety for you.
That,time you realised don't need find any kind of paradise!
Because her eyes perfectly allocate to rise.
May be you don't need any wet
Her lips's enough to comfort het.
Her naked neck make you hardly, feral love
And gives you pleasure around like long rove!
Her breast make you thirst!
Not only compress nor ****
This orgnan to help act excited hardly ****
Doesn't matter are she's have a
flat stomach or fat!!
She's the only one who'r able to cover inside
Your love! Within till 9 ******
Is really good pleasure through your penes!
She steed canvas on the ground,then rises like an acrobat!
Those steed deep dark and strong,
Sometimes plop-egg, drop-egg!
Earn kudos from the eartsy folk,
Be hip --- plucky 'lay an egg!
Every months how much she's suffered to ****** pain!
Only due to blood rain!
From hip to legs make you dabbler in *** activity!
her legs gives to indicate to make a fascinating moment.
Her legs like a ride
Which could not make your emotions hide!
Jzt **** out every parts!
Think 'bout tommorow uh'll have not this type of love kart!
Her barefoot on your foot
She treads softly!
Without any costly.
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 1:38 PM UTC
I have become a ten-toed dabbler
Meanderer intentional sampling delights
Finder of mundane pleasures
Thankful for sound and sight, taste and touch,
Overcome by the newness of scents
I intend to be the finder of earthly heaven,
A barefoot walker of beaches
Collector of shells, sunsets, sensations
The crust of salt and sand and shells
Between my happy toes.
Relief settles slowly upon me
Covid come and gone, come and gone
Taste and smell returned
Lungs strong and pulling, pushing air,
Awareness of the preciousness of living.
I stop for the pleasure of roses, of rain, of radishes.
Thank Heaven for a taste of juniper, mint, basil,
Cantaloupe, berries of all kinds....
Covid gone, I am here to stay, if only for today.
I'm out, about, and on my way.
Jul 19, 2022
Jul 19, 2022 at 12:55 PM UTC
I am dark
I am light
I am the mysterious alley
I am the blind given sight
I am a writer of princes
Witches and Kisses
I am a writer of hurt
Nightly whispers and hisses
Mostly I am a creator,
A dabbler and a curator
I desire your tears
Of laughter and fright
Feeding on your emotions
To keep down the commotion
Of the voices in the night.
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 10:11 AM UTC
I will be caught
in the end
and chastised
if I write
to be recognised
for in that guise
a victim I will fall
to silly pride
a simple stringer
of words and thoughts
through the tumble
of life
a scribbler
a dabbler
a story-teller
on the insignificant side
let the real bards sing
I'll listen in deference
in humility abide
for a small voice
am I
that truth
I shouldn't deny
Jan 8, 2021
Jan 8, 2021 at 7:14 PM UTC