Averting their eyes, the channel they turn
as yet another forest burns
Temperatures climb every year
sure cure for heat – down another beer
Glaciers melting fast, oceans rising
no problem – oldsters busy downsizing
The weather’s now gone insane
forming in the Pacific, three hurricanes*
Sounds awful, but patriots stay in their lane
they just keep toking up on Mary Jane
_____________________________________________________
*as reported in the "Wall Street Journal," 9/5/2026
And tuning of fiddle,your voice vibrate along the strings
The strums of lute echoes far beyond and rhymes
The songs of a praise flows and clings
With an autumnal bare bough of winters rimes
My poor heart creeps and you please let it sway
In truth the poets heart is small like leveret
I plucked you a flower from the redolent
bouquet
And heaven knows a flower or your face of claret
Here comes my lovely nymph inch by inch nearer
O'god heaven is mine eye seeing a lissome sylph
Ruffled and tattered and struck the mine answerer
Was she the mayan people a words in their glyph?
And what so more to expect for mine brow to hold ?
The dewes of eyes or the snow of cold
The cat didn't give a diddly squat,
she played her fiddle non-stop,
accompanied by her kitten's song
they yowled from dusk till dawn
and the townsfolk never slept!
The fat old cow could not jump
even if she tried (which, of course, she didn't),
she gave no milk, nor cream for butter
so down the road she was sent
to Old Moon's Butchery and Deli.
The little dog is not the laughing sort~
with no sleep and no warm milk
it's no wonder his mood is foul,
he bit the hand that tried to feed him
dried up bits of moldy bread.
The spoon then decided it was all to much,
what with the noise and loss of proper table-setting~
with rules of etiquette in a shambles,
she took her matching dish
and ran away to Once Upon A Time.
The moral of the story is never give a cat a fiddle!
Tom was not appreciated most of his life; neither was his fiddle.
He insisted on having it buried with him, a pillow in the middle.
At three a.m. the witching hour, he creates music for the others.
The lonely, the forgotten, the sad, the depressed, and the angry mothers.
They gather at their gravestones, appreciating the concert of Tom.
Last time his music was appreciated was May 1971, at the senior prom.
You will not catch him, or see him, unless you join the sorry others.
The lonely, the forgotten, the sad, the depressed and the angry mothers.
.
'bout time
thuh flowerz are bloom'n
and thuh naiads
tired uv toadz
arrrr
come'n out tuh
play
oooh
thuh barrrd'z
nervous
though
excited
My new retriever Beau is intimidated by his reflection
Having a considerable fit in an unforeseen direction
Barking in earnest at the interloper, ready to do battle.
I merely throw up my hands and say “fiddle faddle!”
~ Eyes Fiddle, World Burns ~
While Putin waves the nuclear wand
It's Gaza and Lebanon all eyes are on
I feel riddled with sickness,
plagued by all infirmity.
Like a fiddle playing a -
score of sombre tunes.
(Kouta form - Japanese quatrain, 7,7,7,5)
03.20.2024
She was playing second fiddle
Caught in a three way love affair
Sometime love becomes a riddle
She was playing second fiddle
She found herself in the middle
In this game of hearts all is fair
She was playing second fiddle
Caught in a three way love affair
Signs that might be seen as omens
send me on my way
the daylight waning for today
and luck still virgin on display
flying close to danger’s coven
The wind blows fortune’s empty cast
as trackless dreams setout
dispelling hope and bringing doubt
without a name to even tout
caught within tomorrows fast
I see each warning clearly now
they speak much like a friend
whose words as tokens try to bend
rushing blindly toward the end
captured voices left to bow
Those signs that led me all point down
the road is changing fast
no clear distinction first from last
my future damned to be my past
— the devils fiddle calling loud
(Saint David’s Pennsylvania: February, 2024)
the jazz-playing giraffe is on the sax and bob is on the fiddle
Let’s do some dancing down the hill and meet in the middle
I loved what I was hearing from my auntie Doris, Diddle Biddle.
Ended up staying out all late with a friend who tells a great riddle.
An infant shoot - a tight green crook
Boldly it rises to assert
With confidence its back unfurls
Now upright it spreads out its arms
Thus fronds set free from fledgling fern
Soon it grows into adult form
With reproductive spores to spread
And produce offspring fiddle-heads.
What a double muddle.
The dog fell in a mud puddle.
He jumped in the pool,
Which was against the rule.
They called out to him.
"You forgot to learn to swim"
Oh fiddle faddle.
"Its ok" he said, "I can dog paddle".
Terry Lad a fiddle player
plucked his fiddle with his bow
And whenever he raised again
the cats would lull endure.
They followed him good and gay
that wasn't very cool.
It made the stray dogs prolonged a bay
to hear the fiddler play.
5/10/2023
Fiddle cat, fiddle cat,
Please fiddle me a song.
How I love to hear you play
Your fiddle all day long.
At dawn you fiddle to the left,
At dusk you fiddle right.
Then you fiddle to the middle,
In the middle of the night.
Fiddle cat, Fiddle cat,
So lovely and aloof,
You’re my whiskered weathervane,
My fiddler on the roof.
And when wind whistles from the West,
Your fiddle faces East.
And when the wind falls silent,
All the fiddle cats will feast.
February 27, 2023
Nursery Rhyme Poetry Contest sponsored by Eve Roper
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