These are examples of famous Wobble poems written by famous poets. PoetrySoup is a great resource of famous Wobble poems about Wobble. These examples illustrate what famous Wobble poems looks like and its form.


I thought, hmmm, that might be stretching it a bit.  Because, I see Elizabeth Bishop listed among the poets, as well as Amy Lowell and Robert Graves, and I be thinking, hmmm, they all be related to the Wobble School of Poetry? Then, dang, each poem had the word “wobble” in it.  Graves line is “Legs wobble and go wingle” – isn’t wingle one of the most delightful English words you’ve ever heard?  A school it is then.

You might wonder why wobble is on the mind today and it’s because the other day – on my way home from school and – of course – the grocery store – I was coming up on someone who, from behind, looked to be Zoltan weaving and wobbling in the middle of the afternoon. Zoltan, you may remember is a neighbor, part of a chain-smoking duo, and it looked like, if it looked like anything, that Zoltan – in the words of the immortal Chuck Berry – had no particular place to go. I wasn’t sure if it was Zoltan: Zoltan has a lot of gray hair, but because of his cigarette cloud. it’s hard to tell where the hair begins and the cloud ends and vice versa and it can be difficult to see his face, which is a shame because he’s a rather handsome guy, retired – as is his wife, terribly thin though, and he has an excellent Hungarian-style mustache, but, based on the degree of weaving and the amount of wobbliness, I didn’t want to chat him up, yet I was concerned about him. So, like a good neighbor, I tailed him for a bit.  The groceries were getting heavy, and I did wish he would move more forward more than right and left, but I stayed with him until he came to the traffic light, for which he stopped, thank god. He crossed with the green and went down a side street towards another bar.

I see far too many men weaving their way about town. The students tell me there are too many depressed elderly people.

Yesterday, Saturday, I was stuck, just couldn’t get moving, and finally left the apartment at 2:30 in the afternoon. It was another glorious day – despite warnings from school colleagues that temperatures were going to drop. Many shops close at noon on Saturday and are closed all day Sunday. It’s rather civilized.

Daylight Savings Time kicked in this morning.

Wobble Baby


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