Best Fiddle With Poems
While attending a social do
You meet and greet others
It’s more a social norm
Than any ‘real’ connect
As you attend to calls
Or get yourself updated with ‘Updates’
Or simply fiddle with your phone
And mind you
You are not alone
Almost everyone is doing the same
Some listless bites of conversation
While chomping on the fare
And it’s time to take leave
But ironically
The same social do
Which you had so perfunctorily attended
Finds the pride of place
On social sites
And horror of horrors
You too find yourself
Engaged in mindless chatter
With the very same crowd
You didn’t much involve yourself with
Just a couple of hours before
In that crowded venue
The story is the same
Whether you are with friends, family or neighbours
The present moments are sacrificed
With ‘smart’ phones smartly severing you
From your surroundings
Ironically when face to face
No one has much to say
But there’s frenzied socialization
Every day
In the ‘virtual’ world
Leading to tch, tch
A 24/7 disconnect in the ‘real’ world.
Here, as the dark city glistens
Here, as the dark city glistens,
rain pelts unsuspecting sidewalks,
filling cracks and running gutters
Disguising stoic potholes in black,
snickering as they wait silently
to startle the next drowsy driver to pass by
Neon reflects in puddles of discontent
while high rise lights
flicker in kitchens above where
cold water seems to be the answer
as groggy eyes fiddle with leftover decisions
making more noise than can be heard
3 am, desolate, just a few cats
rummage in alleys for unsuspecting rats
and other rodents who have sold their dreams
for a temporary high, plastic bag desires
that come morning will seek its revenge
and hands will be out promising redemption,
counting brown leather wing tips and Prada heels
I stop at the old library slated for demolition,
tracing the lopsided heart with our initials
I carved into the brick
as you kept a look out so we wouldn’t get caught
Laughing at the dust that gathered on my shoes,
Telling me it would be forever
not the dust, us, we weren’t
Lonely is a state of mind
for those who wander these concrete caverns,
unable to sleep
Finding opened eyed nightmares
resemble those that they now run from,
hoping the next corner holds the key
to the past when nights were spent
under warm covers, in soft arms,
not walking alone, not dying, not
here, as the dark city glistens
Straight from the heart I sling 'em
Right from the gut, I bring 'em
Why fiddle with metaphor or meter
I actually stir the heart of the reader
March 04, 2019
Entry in "I am a winner" contest
Sponsor: Bobby May
Tables rock theirs souls
with families, friends and children
I sit alone at mine
and I watch their laughter and smiles
It started with me opening the restaurant door
pacing my steps
and then saying to the hostess
‘Table for one’
I now order my unsweetened iced tea
and watch the waitress
remove the other place settings;
An empty chair is my friend tonight
Comfort food; meatballs and spaghetti
is what I order
I fiddle with my phone
as conversation has abandoned me
How many times have I cried
sitting alone
to believe that once in my lifetime
… I was loved
My husband has a smartphone,
As do many of my friends.
They fiddle with their apps;
What they can learn just never ends.
A subway stop? The weather?
The location of a store?
The range of possibilities
Just leaves you wanting more.
Pictures of the grandkids?
Here’s a gallery to view.
Ding! There’s a reminder
That your dental visit’s due.
Check your e-mail, send a text,
Thumb a Twitter tweet.
Use your smartphone all the time
To make your day complete.
We’ll all have smartphones someday
But until that day has come,
I’ll be left out in the cold because
The phone I have is dumb!
Magic Ring
(Limerick Suite)
One time there was an sour puss old king
he was wearing a big magic ring
tried to perform a trick
he was not very slick
ring lost its sparkle wouldn't do a thing
Now to play the fiddle was his goal
he tried to play the fiddle with soul
playing many foul notes
sounded like old farting goats
but the king thought he was on a roll
He liked country music very much
loved to hold the ladies in a clutch
a two step he did good
he would hallo and hoot
fell on his rear-end dropping his crutch
The Queen got hold of his magic ring
she called him a wild crazy old king
told him she had enough
keep his hands of her crotch
Queen used magic ring gave him a sting
Screaming in great pain the king did fold
begged the queen to stop he'll do as told
got back his magic ring
he gave the queen a sting
now they live happy, got very old
Erich J. Goller
copyright 9.26.2010
Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 58
No way must such protective force serve politics
Nor ally dictator army criminal police
None might weigh on Nature to impose its ethics
No exceptions tolerate no geopolitics
No super power excuse to fiddle with peace
No way must such protective force serve politics
No edifice stands aloft loose in building bricks
No Zapata fights for latifundio prize fees
None might weigh on Nature to impose its ethics
Dare not wanton call Nature’s course fiddlesticks
Even if life you lay down for cause in sacrifice
No way must such protective force serve politics
Can one forfeit life placate people’s economics
Mahatma Gandhi saw life’s work torn piece by piece
None might weigh on Nature to impose its ethics
Only the chieftain who bears with peoples’ conflicts
Can lead them along the road to Nature’s hospice
No way must such protective force serve politics
None might weigh on Nature to impose its ethics
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
Why write poetry?
Someone asked again;
Why breathe?
~~~~~~~~~
Snail sliding slowly
Grass verge camouflage;
Morning psalm
~~~~~~~~~
Morning crowd
Busy feet congregate;
Fiddle with cellphones
~~~~~~~~~
Downtown office complex
Rush hour traffic;
Urgent commotion
~~~~~~~~~
Food court terrestrials
Sea of hungry faces;
No place to sit
~~~~~~~~~
Work day blues
So much for so little;
Make ends meet
~~~~~~~~~
Modern day woes
So little time,
So much to do
~~~~~~~~~
Healthy constellations
Mötley yoga class;
Fitness sublimates
~~~~~~~~~
Morning newspapers
Friday through Sunday;
Terminal indigestion
~~~~~~~~~
Words in a rhyme
Lost in a thought;
Inconsequential
~~~~~~~~~
Only crazy people write
Wasted resources;
Sober conclusion
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
13 October 2014
Singapore
Hidden
A secret
Must keep it
Forbidden to be in the same area or even seen with
Sharing a secretive kiss and passionate
Hugs and whispers of love
Outwardly detached except to who's above
Footsteps creeping wood creaking
Bed rails leaning wanting more than a fling
Yurning for the other perspective
All the guts but not the full glory of affection
My bed room you laying in
No
Must be like night.....silent
Holding close from a distance
Being cautious of signs n
Sunrise again
Gotta let go
Even tho
Shed no tears but my insides are welded up and drowning
Days to long til arms embrace and hair gets velcrowed to my face
The moon shines on my back as I make tracks from days lacked of poise
Coming in must make little noise
Fiddle with my lifesize toy that holds the key to this heart that's bolted shut and nailed up with boards
But can open all the doors
Sunrise again
Must place u in my head til the moonlight allows my heart to be opened
Always left wanting more
The bad breath
The nights not slept
The sheets unkept
The hair a mess
The pain and suffering
The stress
The whole Damn package
Just
Not so lucky enough yet
Until next time where the moonlight will hold the spell of a taboo love kept......Peace
It is my greatest pleasure to be alone
To hear again the grey gulls guttural song.
My double sails are filled with gusty strong wind.
So good to feel heaven's peace far from mankind.
The shore is well far away but safely so,
Especially since now the strong wind blows slow.
Around the boat so many diverse fish swim,
Afraid of their destiny that can be grim.
Are they afraid of the dolphins jumping high
Up in foamy sea, they jump towards the sky.
But far, far away the reddish sun goes down
All neon lights are now bright in the small town .
Fiddle with the turn-and-bank indicator.
I return home alone, eat and sleep later.
1/19/23
Getting through endeavors
Doing better
More focus on what is important instead of only pursuing pleasure
Even though ladies never give me the time of day
Like animals, I'm a stray
Just could not find my way
Deep down quite okay
I tell the truth, so it won't always be nice things I say
So much wrong in the world, no person should have been treated like a slave
Still today too many lives at stake
Jeopardizing people acting nice then snake
Regardless if they're asleep or wide awake
It's continuous occurring on since before the iron age
Is there any way to make the cycle change?
I have tried
24/7 at times
Took one step then hit landmines
Followed by a swarm of sand flies
I thought my heart had died
Because I flatlined
Now I just want love no bad vibes
It's what I always wanted, but I know that it's about damn time
If you let it too much toxic stuff can slide
I apologize if my mind is a bit hazy
Life get's crazy
I'm starting to like this lady
She thinks I'm similar to Slim Shady
Of our origin we still can't find a trace
Wake up we don't truly know if we evolved from primates
All these swines and fakes
These schmucks keep secrets and humans in a confined space
Had nothing to lose, then it turned high stakes
For too long was not in a nice place
Now got a better mind state
I still overdrink, and don't always hydrate
Like wild animals, I need to migrate
Much to achieve, so why wait?
Worldwide not just across five states
All this senseless violence and blind hate
I have improved
Back in the groove
Not the same old outlook and attitude
Working on making less bad moves
Despite being a lonely sad dude
I know that there is so much that I can do
And that that's true
A lot of bad luck
Instead of not giving a damn
In order to get through all the sad stuff
I had to become smarter work harder and man up
Making a splish splash
During the daylight or when it was pitch black
Often I'd give back
Having a profound impact
Occasionally I'll pop a tic-tac
Fiddle with knick-knacks
While at times in life it can get whack
Occasionally coming with whiplash
These clowns sweeter than a Kit-Kat
In a world full of endless chit-chat
Always over this and that
Despite speaking on it like it's a fact
Breezing along currents, a whispering tree,
while playing fiddle with nature's wisps on the
ends of harboring lucidity, behold,
land's greatest remained.
9.20.2015
The Mass
On Palm Sunday, she will go to church, not driven but walk on
old feet that hurt for every step, I will sit at home, wait by
the phone in case she cannot make it up the hill to the church.
A modern church paid for by a German industrialist who was
then allowed to built his villa at a nature reservation and thus
is the life of commerce. The benefactor has got his name on
the wall when he dies will become a seraph nothing less will do ,
a chief angel or nothing
The sermon is long I fiddle with car radio and get some soul
riveting Fado. I see my wife walking slowly down the hill and for
a moment I think of driving her down, but desist I will never get
away with it and I don’t know how to manage without her.
We are both obnoxious people a bond that keeps us united now
that we are both near the hole in the ground where lies are told.
It was a seed of love from where the wild flower garden sprang
ideal for my sweet Rose even though some call wild they are tame
to place them in a box or trusses frame a thought of beauty
not so fragile after all bending in the wind as It was there duty
as they raise sun shining in standing taller after the rain
colors seem brighter than before eyeing the daises mane
climbing up and down around runs the wild peas
higher than queen Ann’s a little red the wild carrot pleads
the yellow bush abreast the fire with golden rod looking plain
a cornflower for hire spilt a hibiscus cup got a chicory stain
humming bird’s heart panting a midst the honeysuckle treat
sweet-sour lying short and the jack-in-the-pulpit face red like a beat
as the fern plays the wild fiddle with forest green refrain
on the edge of the field swaying dances of the wild grains
I tried to hold my breath,
lacing plastic together with curdled finesse.
Days of remnants rolled around in a heap
and awaited it’s pallbearer. One final destination.
A graveyard necessary for human greed.
I guess everything has an expiration date.
We find these things, and love them
desperately until they die.
Enjoy it’s taste or fiddle with its edges.
We soak ourselves in their worth,
and hope it settles in our stomachs.
We need to know it’s money well spent.
We have to make ourselves believe that
we won’t end up alongside everything we’ve bought.
Like we’re something greater.
And yet, we will still rot under the same dirt
that we place the husks of our misguided and fickle creations beneath.
Burn me when I die,
I want to fly on the wind
and escape the sin that I’ve been living in.
I want to visit the trees and breath new air.
I want to be better than I’ve been.
-James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved