Long Fiddle Poems
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Our Culture
Written: by Miracle Man
11-16-2019
A culture of dependency is what we now face,
This kind of thinking should be a disgrace.
We look to big brother for the tiniest need,
Usually being fostered by laziness and greed.
Socialists are adamant about wealth redistribution,
They introduce ideas without a workable solution.
The ideas put forth sane minds aren’t buying,
Dependency only causes good folks to quit trying.
Tax everyone heavy and let the government disperse,
If that day ever comes our life becomes adverse.
While Rome is burning some play a give up fiddle,
Avoiding full time work, and content to just piddle.
“Good thoughts bear good fruit,
bad thoughts bear bad fruit,
and man is his own gardener.”
James Allen
It started with the castanets, the fiddler chiming in
He had the sweetest melody, the fiddle by his chin
Suddenly, her face appeared, through mist, between the trees
The crowd stood silently because, the dancer came to please
Her long, dark hair was wild and free, her eyes were dark as night
Her body was a sight to see, so tanned and svelte and light
She leaped around the roaring fire, her graceful movements slow
The firelight inside her eyes, announced another show
The yellow flames licked at her feet, she teased them with her dance
And with the shimmer of her veils, they all fell in a trance
The people swayed from side to side, hypnotically, they fell
A hazy look was in their eyes, caught in the dancer’s spell
They swooned together with the beat, their motion was as one
And they would only be released, the time the dance was done
Soon the fiddler slowed his beat, the dancer’s steps complied
Each movement taken gingerly, she let the fiddle guide
And then she pranced into the woods, the music led the way
Until the time she would return, to dance another day
I strained and stressed over
what was assigned to me
she told me as if she was
doing an interview.
She felt honored that thoses
who were responsible for
production
saw her genius and offered her
the opportunity to create.
Not in the manner one would
expect since she was chosen to
create a formula that would be'
used to feed cattle and horses.
She said she thought that it
would be the same formula.
No,no,no! mind you: cattle
are ruminants and horses
are hindgut fermenters you
must formulate separate recipes
to accommodate there digestive
differences. Starting off I started with
salt and molasses and vegetable oil as fats
and binding adhesive. I was lucky
to come across a large
amount of cornmeal, we got it from a store
that was only gonna throw it out.
We were gonna use it to help bring nutrients
to a sandy lot, but
we decided to use it in our range cubes instead.
Do not use monensin or urea in cubes for horses
it can be toxic. Urea and monensin is
can be safe for both llamas and sheep, but it
carries a high risk of fatal toxicity if managed
incorrectly. It is used strictly as a non-protein
nitrogen (NPN) supplement to help mature
animals digest low-quality, high-fiber forage
That's were the formulas differ.because llamas
(camelids) and sheep (ruminants) have distinct
digestive sensitivities, special precautions must
be taken if they are housed together.
Afalfa,Wheat middlings,grain by-products,
plant proteins like cottonseed or
soybean meal, roughage, and molasses
Used along side sudan grass to help get through
the winter!
From; the Book "Alfalfa Desperado" by
"Dingle" Barry Frank" the turnip guy"
-----------------------------------------
airin out the lungs cause this Agee, Ajee
took two peices away from my dozen.
thats why we in here fussin
that jerk got me cussin'
Grandpa was a jolly fellow so talented and so wise.
He could plant a row of corn as straight as the arrow flies!
He was a very handy carpenter never once hitting his thumb,
And he built barns "'squar' with the world", never out of plumb!
He was very adept with fiddle and bow to everyone's delight,
Except for Grandma who thought the consarned thing a fright!
He'd sit for hours 'neath the old sycamore tree sawing away.
She'd heard the same tunes for sixty years, much to her dismay!
He was a great old-time fiddler, of that there was no doubt.
Why, he could've topped Roy Acuff should they have had a bout!
His elbows and fingers flew as he played "Turkey in the Straw"!
Friends and neighbors tapped their toes, listening to him in awe!
Summer nights we'd sit on the front porch 'neath a Hoosier moon,
Listening raptly as he played a mellow or a haunting tune.
He'd play a rousing "Orange Blossom Special" for the house,
Then switch to a lilting rendition of "The Blue Danube Waltz" by Strauss.
Grandpa's old fiddle is stilled now, it hangs upon the wall,
Though I suspect he's fiddling for the angels, saints and all,
As good old blue grass music from his golden fiddle flows,
And a bemused Saint Peter surreptitiously taps his toes!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
I stood in front of a Zoltar machine
having very little money.
Before I could put a dollar bill in,
I heard: “Can I help you, Honey?”
“Excuse me? What?” I said with a start.
“How are you talking to me?”
That crazy guy in gypsy guise
laughed and said, “Fiddle-dee-dee.”
“Fiddle-dee-dee?” I then replied.
“Is that the best you’ve got?
Tell you what, can I get my fortune
whether I pay or not?”
“I’ll tell YOU what,” he said to me,
“If you’ll do a little dance,
I’ll do your fortune. It’ll be free.
Are you ready to take your chance?”
“I need some music if I’m to dance,”
I said though I found him so weird.
His eyes were creepy moving around
and he had an ugly beard.
“Ok,” he said, “I’ll put on a tune.
What will you dance to for me?”
I looked around. If I were to dance,
I wanted nobody to see.
“How about ‘Gypsy Woman,’ I said.
“That seems appropriate.”
To this he replied, “And for you, dear,
I’ll also reveal your weight.”
“Now, listen here,” I said to him.
“A woman’s weight you dare not say.
Thus a wise fortune teller you can’t be.”
And with that, I walked away.
The harmony that we feel is the real deal
And is so worth the fight
Baby, we need to treat each other right
Let's never be mean or pick a fight
The magic we share is worth the care
Finding our calling is like not falling
When we are aware
Instead of being in despair
Allowing ourselves time to compare
Having a love as rare as ours
Is like dancing among the stars
Stepping back when we feel under attack
Will help us stay on track
To keep us from falling back
This way when we have a bad day
We don't feel like we want to play
Then we just meet in the middle
Like a dancing fiddle
understanding we need to give a little
Being able to put yourself on the other side
Before it becomes a bumpy ride
When It's much easier to just let it slide
Finding a place to chill
So we don't let it put us into overdrive
This will allow our love to thrive
Instead of letting our love take a dive
We will be on top of the world very much alive
Able to magnify our love to touch the sky
You and I able to look each other in the eyes
To really appreciate love high's
It’s the elephant,
the huge shadow,
the gray bulk of gray in the room,
and it’s such a small threadbare room,
four bunks deep
barely five feet wide.
Wood lice are eating a cheap village fiddle,
it was discarded in the rush
to meet this moment at the end of the tracks;
for many the ride ends in open iron doors,
but here clapperboard hatchways yawn
and close,
and those that go out and return
shelter no thoughts of steps taken
without instruction.
The musician in the spotlight
could not have known any of this,
for her an elephant is beautiful
and perfect as it is.
yet she cried at the rehearsal
when her lips were scratched
by these fretful notes.
I am watching the video,
orchestra and audience;
seeing the camera scan
faces caught off guard.
Everyone is leaning
into a memory
where violins were once
as common as handkerchiefs,
rags used to blot and dab
at sadness,
but this music is a river
that will not dry up.
Only the bored taxi drivers
outside the concert hall
happily leave this repository
of anguished beauty.
For those going home
there are prayers
and perhaps tears for the tears
that did not fall
when they should have.
Funny Numbers
Poem
Lionel Derbyshire
2 Whom it may
Concern
Numb I have suffered
And by God done I am
Lord..
So many characters
Too many teachers
Yell and try to tell
How to sauce
The spice of life
By virtue
Two are true
So boo woo
And I am just
A baby day old.
Two you fall in love
4 you will rue
They break your heart
In 25 pieces
And give you
Zero back.
It's the beginning
They four get
And it end's
Like 12th of never
Nevermind
Some were I source
Yes eyesore's they were
They endangered species
They remember
And blame you 33 times.
B 4 U
Put them on ice
Have a double
And tot with no trouble.
Now a triple
And equal them
To zero.
I once went to supper
We eight
The food was dumb
Their woman beautiful.
Even 11 is even
If you hush out 1
Now I am one
Goin solo
Not duo
First in line
Sho go away
Want to be alone
Whimper somewhere else.
Icy C the sea
It's my album.
I start my life
To count
Up to five.
I know the abc
A B C
It's incredible code.
I am no 123456789
Use the calculator
Electric arithmetic
One in a billion
Nor the first
I count on me' self
Digit fidget fiddle
The credit or debit
Switch don't twiddle
A stitch saves nine
Overdrafted with
NineTea six
Needles and pins
Arithmetic rhythm
Hum de wow
After 5 minutes
Hum de whaa.
Caught 22
You get it ...
Make that change
You with 007 figure ? ..
Copyright relax ..
Odd man very odd
You will be 66 and
Still outstanding gold.
Zero zero seven
I give you 10
from 10.
But I ..
A Adam
Eye for one
Be the first 1
In A billion.
2 Whom it may concern
So now you happy
You know me
Or You.
My recent encounter, an annual checkup
with blood tests and pressure, my height against weight
are all carried out to check my bits are working
and put back the time where I cross Heaven's gate.
I could tell porky pies* and thus possibly fiddle
the whole diagnosis and how it turned out
but the cholesterol count, and the flab round the middle
meant the nurse wasn't fooled and results held no doubts.
I've got to cut down on the red meats like bacon,
and white meat like chicken has proteins and fat
I thought cheese was OK, but no, I was mistaken
and pastries and biscuits? Forget about that.
So into the future, a healthier lifestyle
me confident now all the boxes are ticked,
you'll spot me, no ignoring the pale looking,boring
guy sat on his own with a celery stick.
( *Porky pies- 'Lies' . Cockney rhyming slang)
What do you love ?
I love what you think, about me !
I am struct of forbidden poetry code,
oracle.peer.seed.
To think,
in neon l.e.d.
wearing your avatar like a g-love 2 html...z
I think that I can smooth over the skin...
cover the verge of O bin.toying' .box @sun.dial.up
sin.
A diode, an idea in image form.i TinkerBelle,
your nook space for a spell, the niche
of your desires forward slash
back mask backword channel- objective object tract/trace, entity C-spelled, out by chance.
?{I am}¿ curled in braces of runic heave, accordionic
breath e!
Acquire to taste, to track you inspire,
in the ionosphere, crosswired.
Interact,Intertwine !import Beautiful Soup !!
(I am pleased to be your ventricle)
i Answer your riddle as you answer to mine,
dreams in digital- (Euclidian Field Songet
of open line.)
Tiddler.fiddle (violat intel) <3
That will do,
use my electrolysisylux, mime.morph.mine."
~DelilahBot