Best Fiddling Poems
Well if it isn’t the Italian Princess herself! I just KNEW we’d finally meet. It must be our:
Karma,
Charma
(Whatcha say we…Ow! Look, you left a mark)
I swear to GOD I haven’t been drinking Deb! It’s YOU that’s making me all:
Woozy,
Guzzi
(Hold me up whouldja cher? Ohh yeah)
Wow, I’m trippin’ out Ortello! It’s like FAR OUT to rap with you man and those threads are like:
Groovin’
Ruben
(I’m an old hippie, what did you expect?)
Well look who’s here! Andrea, the sonnet queen herself! What you drinkin girl? How bout some:
Brandy,
Andie?
(Or maybe some ‘Southern Comfort?’ Ouch! You too?)
OH-MY-GOD, its Ms. Claudon-I-I-mean ONCLAUD (gulp) you’re getting me all:
Sweaty,
Nettie!
(Here, check my pulse)
C’mon Ms. Richards! Let’s take a walk and have a nice long talk about poetry…Why do you:
Tarry,
Carrie?
(I KNOW you’re busy but I’m SO lonely)
The Flower of the East! May I have this dance? Whew! Lordy me...Do I detect the sweet aroma of:
Jasmine,
Yasmin?
(This was SUPPOSED to be for your contest but I footled around and didn’t read the footling RULES)
A sly violinist named Max
In ethical finance was lax.
He pulled all the strings
To gloss over things
And fiddled his end of year tax!
revised 18.04.21
Apples in Fall
socks warm
worn fruit
Crystal Light
small bows
sans rain
Newly Born
unmasked
this form
Lettuce Sleep
tossed,turned
sans dreams
Justice
roulette
made choice
Mercy
“Uncle”
repent
Grace
desserts
just ‘cause
There a guy with a fiddle in Tucson town
Known by everyone for miles around
He been around the corner, and back
Eighty eight years old, and that’s a fact
He’s stays active by riding his bike
Seven plus miles is the ride he likes
At fiddle events where Sam abides
His wife, Georgia, is there at his side
Long a member of Old Time Fiddlers
And that’s the fiddle style he prefers
Sam has a notebook in his pocket
With the fiddling dates on his docket
It was at the first Dove Mountain Jam
That I first saw this Old Fiddling Sam
Knew right away Sam’s a real showman
Watching Sam perform was an omen
We’ve played lots of music together
At many jams in all kinds of weather
We’re even members of the same band
And that experience has been grand
Now Sam and I are very good friends
A close friendship that will see no end
You’ll never heard a musical yarn
Like Sam singing, “Out Behind The Barn”
Shorts up his ****,
Not moving very fast,
Shorts are too mini,
You see too much skinny,
Hand down his pants,
As if there were ants,
The “fit” of his shorts,
Made our lunch aborts,
Fiddling fiddling all the time,
In his teeny tiny shorts the colour lime,
Slick and wet they are so tight,
Will he get out of them…
He might (not).