Fiddler Poems

Fiddler on the White House Roof

There's a fiddler on the White House roof.
As the world burns, he is clearly aloof.
Just like Emperor Nero,
he is surely no hero, 
and frankly we've had enough of this goof.

The Caravan of Stars

Along the road where moonbeams spill,
the gypsy wagons wander still.
Their lanterns swing like fireflies caught,
each wheel a whisper, each song a thought.

The fiddler hums a ghostly tune,
that weaves beneath the weeping moon.
A tambourine keeps time with dreams,
and horses wade through silver streams.

No map can mark the path they tread,
no stone remembers where they led.
They chase

Fiddler Met Twiddler

Fiddler met twiddler on his way to church
fidgeting and diddling, their fingers in a lurch
Fiddle-sticks and Fiddle-faddle stopped to watch and stare
puttering and muttering, one day in autumn’s air

The Fiddling Fiddler

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).

The Fiddler

Music pierces where words escape every mood a tune a hearts embrace

The Fiddler

revere musical and other traditions be not a slave to them

A Parody of Fiddler on the Roof

If I were a famous poet
Ya ba dibba dibba dibba dibba dibba dibba dum
All day long, I'd write a biddy biddy bum
If I were a famous man!
I wouldn't have to rhyme hard
Ya ba dibba dibba dibba dibba dibba dibba dum
If I were a biddy biddy famous yidle-diddle-didle-didle poet
I'd write an excellent epic full of great

I'm a Fiddler, that's my thing

   Music provides the mood
     for movies, plays
     parties and food

  I'm a fiddler, that's my thing
  I provide moods, gimme a ring
    ~ not afraid to play 'second string'

grandpa fiddler

Grandpa fiddler was born in Bluegrass city
He could strum a fiddler like a diddler’s middy.
What does that mean? Ask a churched old biddy.
It means that you do not understand Bluegrass city.

Fiddler Cats

Fiddler cats played bluegrass music down in Tennessee
Tapping their toes triple time said the Green She Bee.
Hoe down dancers came out of the woods to do a two step
Bluegrass music gave them extra zest and amazing pep.

Fiddler cats did not stop with that, oh, no!
They played opera music up in west Buffalo.
How they got that

Mocking the Dead

Mocking the dead, is that a thing?
How many ways can one be disrespecting?
Laws that cause offenders to be free?
Rape kits that exist only to be not breached.

Little lies and big divides of right and wrong genocide.
Our forefathers could not ever predict
We would be as disrespectful as this.
Ancestors bones surely roll like river
As the wicked become

Tricky Fiddler Kitty

Homey Domey Gomey Loamy Foamy Stoamy Roamy Doo
Delighted mice are dancing, around the kitty fiddler’s shoe
an hour ago I counted happy rodents numbering up to sixty-two
None of them realizing they are being led to a pot of tasty mousey stew

The Fiddler and the Frog

*Image of Bowed Instrument by WallF.

The Fiddler and the Frog

A fiddle idles then descends,
a clenched bow rest atop a noiseless chest,
a frog leaps nearby and suspends,
a final croak lets out breaking the quiet,
a calming all-around transcends,
a host of angels by a gate,
a harmonious melody blends,
a fiddler and frog joyously complacent,
a blissful duet eternity sends.

2023 February

The Fiddler and the Frog

You’ve heard of Hamlin’s plague of rats, but let me share the tale
Of how an infestation struck the folk of Meadow Vale.
An army of amphibians were leaping through the land,
The villagers were hopping mad, this wasn’t what they’d planned!
Amphibians, amphibians, the folk were in despair,
In beds, in baths, in kitchen sinks, those frogs were everywhere!
Now

The Fiddler and the Frog

Once there was a handsome fiddler named George
Who always played love songs at nearby gorge
In his passionate playing
A red frog came out singing 
Sounded like, “ Crack my crooked croak with sorge.”

When the frog’s voice got louder and louder
George’s playing paused awhile to wander
Crossing the fast flowing stream
Saw the red frog in his dream
Seated crossed

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