The HyperTexts

Dabble Dactyls

"A little dabble dactyl'll do ya!"

Double Dactyls or Dabble Dactyls?

Officious Notice #1: I have invented a nonce nonsense form: the "dabble dactyl." A dabble dactyl starts out like a double dactyl, but forgets the rules and changes horses midstream. Anyone who prefers order to chaos should give the dabble dactyl a wide berth and also not sow any wild oats. Otherwise, “A little dabble’ll do ya.” — Michael R. Burch

Officious Notice #1: The HyperTexts is actively soliciting submissions of a nonce nonsense form, the "dabble dactyl," and the guidelines are surprisingly lax. Anything remotely close is likely to be published, as long as the poem is double-dactyl-ish, clever, funny, and the writing is good. Submissions can be emailed in the body of the email or as a single Word attachment to Mike Burch at mikerburch@gmail.com.



Dabble Dactyl #1
by Michael R. Burch

Sniggledy-Wriggledy
Jesus Christ’s enterprise
leaves me in awe of
the rich men he loathed!

But why should a Sadducee
settle for trifles?
His disciples now rip off
the Lord they betrothed.

This was my first-ever dabble dactyl.



Donald Dabble Dactyl #1
by Michael R. Burch

Piggledy-Wiggledy
Ronald McDonald
cursed Donald Trump,
his least favorite clown:

"Why should I try to be
funny as Donald? He
gets all the laughs
claiming upside is down!"

Donald Dabble Dactyls must begin with "Piggledy-Wiggledy" in homage to The Donald's oinkerishness and his 'do. References to clowns, gold-plated toilets and/or diapers are a plus but are not required.



Donald Dabble Dactyl #2
by Michael R. Burch

Wond’ringly, blund’ringly
Ronald McDonald
asked, “Who the hell
is this strange orange clown?”

“Why should I try to be
funny as Donnie? He
gets all the laughs
from marks who should frown!”

I see that I violated my prime directive, so "never mind."



Donald Dabble Dactyl #3
by Michael R. Burch

Piggledy-Wiggledy
45th president,
or erstwhile manse resident,
perched on a throne

of gold-plated porcelain
matching his orange “tan,”
bombing Iran
from his twittery phone?



DOUBLE DACTYLS ON THE TRUMP TRIAL AND CONVICTION
by Conor Kelly

Fucketty-ducketty
President Donal J
fornicates frequently
flaunting his dick.

Puritan, Baptist and
Antinomianist,
endorse him constantly
fluffing his schtick.

***

Felony-melony
President 45
Posts through the night of the
Fate he must dread.

Scrolling through Pornhub and,
Orgiastically,
Searching for Stormy, he’s
Lonely in bed.

***

Gavelly-ravelly
Scop lawyer Brian Yapko
Cries in his cups for the
Fate of his chump.

Legally lost is this
Flibbertigibbet
Serving his writs as he
Masturbates Trump.

***

Lusciously-gushously
Stormy the Mushroom maid
Denigrates fungi and
Sighs for the sin

Mortal, yet morally
Extenuatory,
Given the fate of the
State she was in.

***

Hushily-pushily
Mrs Melania,
Wife of the witless one,
Hides far away,

Watching the news as she,
Inconspicuously,
Says not a word yet she’s
Having her say.



Angry Bird
by Jemshed Khan

Turning and turning in the widening gyre. —WB Yeats

Surely we are pure
medieval revival;
a fervent winged serpent
spitting fire from literary spires—

or just an erratic collective
of updown voted poets—
A Capella gal's and fella's
all tethered together,

with quills for feathers.
Some are tough as scales,
others wiggly jelly underbelly.
We've got skills for the kill:

Our fat claws snap like traps;
venom drips from casual quips;
with acid tongue and iambic fangs
we eviscerate the novitiate.

We undulate and articulate—
all timed down to the line break until
rattles shake, tempers break.
We're busy fussing and dying

on a hot planet that posits
rhyme, meter, and time.
In this bubble of trouble
the rules are cruel:

Survival bespeaks our arrival.
The scene is mean.
Fumbled lines be high crimes.
No longer just a narrow fellow

waiting in the grass,
we've got wings and bling,
talons that sting, claws that will.
Angry Bird's been trained to kill.



Related Pages: Less Heroic Couplets

The HyperTexts