Gibble the Gubble Gobbler
A Simply Absurd Poem
Gibble never found a gubble that he didn’t want to gobble.
His wobbly bibbles bubbled as his slumped body jiggled.
Gibble ate,
Gibble drank,
Gibble gobbled,
Gibble quibbled,
and he quabbled.
What drove Gibble to grovel?
For this gobbler to be reduced to snovel?
With food and drink,
a tear was swallowed
and what followed
was a sad stare at the mirror’s reflection,
the call to wallow.
With every sip,
there was a drip of sorrow.
Filling when full,
emptying the bliss
that Gibble borrowed.
“Poor Gibble” - the locals hollered,
as he sunk into obscurity,
not to be bothered.
Steaming and freezing boats arrived
in the bay
below his bedroom floor,
to be hoisted up by crane
to be gobbled at the door
with dismay.
So much did Gibble weigh,
that the locals say
the town began to flood and sway.
As the city began to dip,
the drunken Gibble rolled
from 6 stories down into
the sea.
His ballooned body,
a floating retreat.
As the buildings fell and the people cried,
they spotted the floating Gibble,
their lifeline.
Gibble once hidden, now was seen.
Once a cloud, now a beam.
For it wasn’t Gibble who drowned the town,
but a rare and sudden turning of the tide.
His neighbors swam and paddled in haste,
to come aboard this spacious ride.
Once on top, the people cheered and sang,
crowning the smiling Gibble with acclaim.
Onward they sailed to distant lands,
with Gibble’s newfound purpose and task at hand.
Legends still ring of Gibble’s gobbling bloat, the sinking city, and his body boat.
A gobbler
a wibbler
a wobbler
a tale of note.