Dribble Verse #2: Methuselah

WHB: Pen & Crayon – 2021

Continuing my, for fun, experimentations with newer verse forms, here is my second attempt at DRIBBLE VERSE.

The dribble is a brief poem consisting of exactly 100 letters (not 100 characters—spaces and punctuation are not counted).  Dribbles most often take the form of a quatrain that turns on a single rhyme and usually provide a humorous observation on a mundane or unconventional subject, but like the haiku or sonnet, some modern poets adhere only to the counting aspect of the form  . . . The name of the dribble is derived from the micro-fiction form known as the drabble, a story consisting of exactly 100 words. Rhyme scheme: abab
From:  https://poetscollective.org/poetryforms/dribble/

Dribble # 2: Methuselah

Methusaleh died at a ripe old age, (27)
Nine hundred and sixty nine. (23)
I read he died in a filthy rage, (24)
Incensed he’d got a parking fine. (26)

The numbers in brackets represent the number of letters in each line -totalling 100 ]

My Heart’s Age

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My Heart’s Age

Do I know how old my heart is?
Do I know its age?
Has it earned its idyll now, 
Has it burnt its rage?

It must be old, older than me, 
It’s showing signs of abuse;
Perhaps a lighter schedule now, 
Less of the fast and loose.

If only I could follow my heart
And it could read my mind,
I’d live within my dream and leave
My remnant life behind.

 

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‘As When …’ – Three Haiku

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‘Farne Islands’ Northumbria … Photo: WHB – 2012

As When . . .

THREE HAIKU

 

As when the waves rage
So does my turbulent life
Beat upon my shore

As when the sky weeps
So do my eyes shed their tears
For those friends now gone

As when the wind gusts
So does my discontent rage
For those without love

 

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Death Is An Unmapped Sea

IntoTheUnknown

Photo:  ‘On Chesil Beach’ by WHB – 2007   ©

 

Death is an Unmapped Sea

Day dawns and life now reasserts its sway;
Sleep ends and dreams now slowly fade away,
Leaving behind the gains which I thought real.
Reality and the sun the truth reveal,
That time has shattered youth and brought old age.
Shall I depart midst over-arching rage,
Those aspirations which I held most dear,
Abandoned now as hope gives way to fear?
Now that I’m hurt, unheard and unfulfilled,
Can I refute those truths my life distilled,
And face what unmapped seas fate holds in store,
Without a faith to bear me to the shore?

 

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