David Harris

Gold Star - 4,611 Points (18 June 1945 / Bradfield, England)

Wobblers (Fun Poem 176) - Poem by David Harris

At one time you could see
a lot of wobblers
just after the pubs called time.
Now the wobblers you see
are the decrepit souls like me.
I have joined the age
of the walking stick brigade
and have become a wobbler.
When standing still too long
my legs become jelly
and I lose my balance.
Whenever I wobble my only problem is
when I stick my hand out to steady myself
everything is smaller than me
at six foot three and a half.
I reach out and grab
nothing but empty air
and that does not hold up
someone as tall as me.
So I stand there and shrink
wobbling to my knees.

19 October 2015

Topic(s) of this poem: humorous

Comments about Wobblers (Fun Poem 176) by David Harris

  • Kumarmani Mahakul (11/4/2015 5:31:00 PM)

    Now the wobblers you see
    are the decrepit souls like me....Very wonderful humor shared in this wisely drafted poem. Interesting and amazing.10
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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, November 4, 2015

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