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
It is stronger
than sympathy
Words are rattling bones,
when the meat is gone
The world is hungry
while you are bored
The divide is insulting:
cashmere and caviar
versus clouded water
and calloused feet
“In our city of lost alphabets”
I hope to find a mirror
to see myself
I wasn't with the answers
I can’t afford to go there,
nor am I strong enough
to understand the intimacy
of starvation
James Baldwin described it palpably
in ‘Black Boy’
The last stage of hunger
is when grass is an option
The minister ate
all the fried chicken!
The kids naw
on wishbones
and fiddle with sticks
in the dust
A complete thought
it conveys a complete thought
soothing harmonious phrases
a melody
perfecting a pitch
a sequence of notes
and a musical structure
that grooves and carries
from the Book
Cochliomyia hominivorax
By Cooter Skirts
----------------------------
a line from page 109 reads
We used the boxtruck for shelter in the rain.
while putting Styrofoam spray into number
tin cans, we were tryna make a floating device, anyway
I told ex wife the story of me becoming engaged.
"I knew my wife loved me the day
I came home early and no one
was there. She does crafts
and on the table was " I love You"
stringed together. She used the pigfeet bones from
the BBQ and some string
she tied dandiloins inbetween the bones
I asked her to marry me that evening"
She played fiddle with the band and I played accordain
Her ex husband was a cattle herder and he always had a need
to talk o her. I got tired of this
She said she'd marry me and I
told him that the latenight gossip
had to stop: I laughed at his lonelinees
and made no bones about what I meant!
More can’t piddle with their piddler
Nor can fiddle with their fiddler
Age removes more than a little
Rage just leads to the hospital
Life gives us many fits and starts
Strife’s left once we lose bits and parts
If there’s less poke in your poker
Riff out some jokes from your joker
For the 8x8x8x8 contest
Voices yelling my joy they are selling pain begins dwelling deep in my heart I cry and I weep my face like a storm every day comes with rain am I even sane I wish to travel to a happier place but yet I face an awful place called real life you would think it was nice it’s not a little so I'll fiddle with a fidget feeling fear and im still here
I sit on your garbage can and fiddle with a knob
Your back door shakes a bit, I search for a corn cob
Smash goes the lid to your aluminum garbage can
I am the man, I think now, I am the man!
You are in your kitchen, terrified to see that knob
Slowly move back and forth; my cousin has the corn cob
Fighting ensues, we slap each other and screech
You call the cops. They send out Officer Leech.
A ship's cook
The sea is dark, clunky, and calm today
slowly undulate
turns white where the ship's bow has plowed a furrow
that stretches for miles.
Gulls still follow us, shrieking and waiting for the cook to
throw overboard waste food, tomorrow gone back to the coast waiting, for another ship
I fiddle with the radio in the galley, find a good station
it saddens me also as it was it was my brother's favorite song
We left Antwerp 24 hundred hours ago,
it had been
hectic, long night, blaring music, whores and beer
In the drunken haze, a nucleus of sobriety reminded
a longing for something better, knowing this was
a temporary and shallow
as for now, I have a long day ahead of me, food to cook
bread to make and the cleaning of pots and pans
that is why cooks are temperamental
I feel safe in my little domain, a place the captain fear
to enters. Yes, I'm sailing across the sea, and it is good
to be alive on a day like this
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
Out here in the outpost
I guard the borderland
“Over and out” – I lose the call
And you are out again
This is my shout out
From the hinterland
“Roger, Roger” at my post
But you are – out – again
You do not deem to call
While my receiver’s on
I fiddle with the dial
But – static – is the tongue
Cold the rime upon the pane
That crackles to the sound
Of Solitaire I muster out
– And the hand that I put down
Is a winner, at its best
– It seems the Ace is high –
– And here my friendly guest
Just winks an evil eye –
The creaking of my little hut
Is charged with energy
Buffeted by winds about
– thou art mine enemy! –
Cold the outer fathoms
And in the frozen stasis
White is in the noise
And silence in the spaces
The dark outside is deep
Did I just hear a knock?
– it’s just the knock, knock
Knocking of my beating heart
– Cornered as a winter mouse
Frightened from its nest
I startle to the voice I hear
And flee my inner guest
The therapy
Once I drove from the south to the North of Portugal
with a sojourn into Spain, long enough to see how
different the two countries are made me anti-unipolar.
I was driving around before the creation of motorways
and mobile phones made driving into a dull discourse.
A puncture in the middle of nowhere caused a problem
I had a puncture but was saved by a man on his tractor
saved me from utter failure.
I had the dog with me on the journey dogs are patient
don’t fiddle with the radio and want to stop for coffee
nor do they suggest another, better route to take.
A dog waits till you stop at a nice place, woods for it to
run around smelling things, and back in the car they sleep.
Villages made of the landscape hewn from stones
and forgotten are strewn around some on top of a hill.
Others are deep in a valley; flowers by every door make
houses look prettier.
The villages also have in common a café/bar/shop were
a traveller can get a beer, a bit to eat and rooms to let
if not officially (tax) best of all, people like you.
After a week of driving around overcoming a failed love
an affair, cured, and the dog and I went home.
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.
We hurry and scurry, we're strapped to our clocks
Our lives are measured in ticks and tocks
We're all in a rat race, like it or not
And none of us know how much time we've got
Our days stream away in a downward spill
And you can't push that stream back up the hill.
Our tick tocks continue at night and all day
Even while sleeping our time slips away
You may think life's a journey, you're just passing through
Or you're here to save sinners, like He called you to do.
If you're one of the latter don't fiddle with fate
Your tick tocks are sure to run out if you wait.
You'll never be sure how you got here, or why?
Were you made out of clay, or just fall from the sky?
But you'll know when you're done and no longer exist
When they take that Tick Tocking clock off your wrist.
Little girls should be seen and not heard
My Father used to say
Sit up straight in the chair
Or you'll have hell to pay
Don't fiddle with your napkin
Or your knife and fork
Close your mouth when you eat
It's rude to chew and talk
When you've finished eating
Don't ask to be excused too quick
You had to let your meal digest
Or you may be sick
A little different from today
When manners don't seem to matter
Children take their meal from fridge to microwave
And eat it in front of the tv
Straight from the platter
You Do It to Me
By M. Griswold
04142020
Fiddle with me, oh lovely tender.
Fondle me so gently to render.
Touch me where I desire to be risen.
Tempt me so to heighten my mizzen.
Tease me to fulfill our love's potential
Caress me for my heart's beat essential.
Hold me close for full affirmation.
Softly kiss me within true conviction.
Love me long for our life's true measure.
Fulfill us so with love's passion pleasure.
fiddling with my
violin i can also
fiddle with my
viola in an
almost spastic
stance with head and
chin in an almost
accident rubbernecking
the accident which
has not not
only yet to
begin but will
happen
forgetting to
rosen my bow
now knowing
what the
screeching
of tires sounds
like played in
B flat major
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