‘AB’, or: Negative

‘The Dude abides’, a d’Verse Quadrille

Above an abyssal abime 
abide abeles; and abelmosks 
abound, abloom, ablush, abutted by 
abandoned aboriginal abbey, absent 
absconded abbots. 

An ablegate abroad abreacts absorbedly; 
aborted aborning abracadabras are 
abomas abiding about 
his abdomen. 

Aboulia abidingly absterged; 
abhorrent abuses absolved, ablins, 
in ablutions of absinthe. 

The above poem is my take on d’Verse’s Quadrille challenge #117.

The quadrille is simply a poem of 44 words (excluding the title), and it can take any form. This week’s challenge was to use the word β€œabide” in a quadrille.

61 thoughts on “‘AB’, or: Negative”

  1. You are such a wonderful teacher. How on earth would I learn about a quadrille 117….thanks for sharing dVerse’s blog, I totally enjoyed reading. I’m a kinda abide person, the solitude and all that goes with it but I really appreciated the fun evaluation of your holiday and the days thereafter. Such fun writing makes me happy. Who would’ve thought that digital communication would become so vital since the breakout in Wuhan. Before we use to say, get off your phones, get back to reality, and now digital communication has become a major reality. Ok I’m going off the rails here. Abide with me is also an all time favourite In fact all these old hymns written in contemplative poetry, I regard as masterpieces.

    I love, love what you have done with AB, you are an amazing teacher.

    1. Dwight was the one who introduced me to dVerse, and I only discovered quadrilles in last few months here on WordPress… so I’m barely ahead of you, Abi πŸ™‚

      Thank you for reading and being so kind, as always!

  2. My comment disappeared!😱
    Ok..here’s the gist of what Id posted

    ABsolutely fAB! Ben …your wordsmithery is quite simply amazing πŸ™Œ

    I needed a dictionary for this one πŸ˜€ and loved the journey. Thank you for writing

  3. Thanks for writing such a wonderful tongue twisting poem, David! Again a new form of poem! I learnt a lot of new words as well. Keep going.

  4. Alexander (your name, yes?) I had to flip back and forth between the online dictionary and your “puzzle poem” to understand it. It was fun to do it, and I’m impressed with your vocabulary and the depth of the poem! Absinthe makes a good cure-all for just about everything πŸ˜‰

    1. Hi! My first name is David – you can feel free to use it πŸ™‚ (‘ben Alexander’ means ‘son of Alexander’ in Hebrew)

      Don’t be too impressed with my vocabulary – I had to search online for many of these words! It was lots of fun πŸ™‚

    1. I won’t lie – I had fun with this one πŸ™‚

      And because I was limited to a particular set of words, I honestly didn’t know how it would come out at the end!

  5. You just had to do that, didn’t you, mate? Employing words I’ve never encountered before. Oh, the humiliation for this poor old English teacher! A numpty of a man playing at maturity! … You know, I was just looking at your blog again, that opening verse about your father. And words. The importance of language. And it reminded me how much of my life I have depended on language to mediate thought and experience. And feeling. I wonder how much of your life has been like this as well.

    1. George, regarding the words you’ve never encountered before, you should know that I also had to find these words – it’s not that I necessarily knew them before writing this poem!

      Regarding language…. something I’ve been thinking about is how I feel that I use language to avoid reality – even when I’m writing about “reality” – it’s like I’m creating my own… and limiting it to my stanzas or paragraphs. And then – when it’s written… is what I’ve written the actual reality? Do I get a pass for the past because I’ve described it? Is it neatly packaged for me so that I can now move on? Or am I just fooling myself – deliberately – into feeling that way?


      1. I wouldn’t quite say you get a pass for it, my friend. I think it is one of the most reasonable things a man may do in his struggle to understand–to come to terms–with the past. To think and to write–to use words to find a truth in it that validly expresses the experience, and in a way that gives us strength to say, yes, now that is a part of me–losing my mother will remain an integral part of me. And in the writing of her, I celebrate our lives together before she was gone. And her passing becomes, however sorrowful, known and accepted. There are many cultures in the world who employ what might be called magic in order to feel a sense of control over an otherwise unpredictable and often threatening world. I write. And in so doing, I feel less the threat, and more the knowing. Which is a great comfort to me.
        Sorry, I am blethering on again. I hope I am making sense to you, David. I find it easy to trust that you do understand me, even if I do not always understand myself. I am glad to have met you, mate.

        1. in so doing, I feel less the threat, and more the knowing.

          That is really lovely, George – it somewhat moves me to poetry.

          I think I “get” what you’re saying. Blether on, my friend πŸ˜€


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