Short Twiddling Poems

Anxious artistic agreeable amazing boring busy big blue bird flying high twiddling tweets no longer heard

20/16/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2020...

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Tweedle me,
Tweedle thee,
I glee with roses,
And I’m all rosy,
As can be,
That all my troubles,
Are swept away,
Twiddling! Twiddling!

© Suzanna Scarlett Sladojevic, 2019....

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Lord….
Thee….
Guide me
Walk my path
Waiting for my bath
Twiddling my thumbs cause I fear me
Yearning for a hut where all those sounds are tapered shut
Please erase such a gut from such controversial rut running from head to toe like smut 

...

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Alone Again



Who will see me where I go
I wander alone in this world I know
Strange faces, places, changing tides
Where will I go
Where will I hide

The sun will rise each day, I'm sure
And fade as darkness comes
But me I walk alone again
Looking down and twiddling my thumbs
...

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deep in the trenches
a forest of cardboard trees
and  stained glass windows
twiddling pieces through fingers
sizing up like private eye

a piece here…and there
like a long drawn out story
finally middle latched shut
and made the sign of the cross
now I aim for the quadrants
...

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silly sequoia slumbering
meager mists mooing
callous clouds clustering
voluptuous vibes vying
tempted twigs twiddling
salient sleep swilling

spooky silver silhouette
pulling pulpy pests
contracting cautious crrsts

lousy clouds lurching
gaunt glottis grooving
gigantesque syllables dripping

mystic mountain moaning;
sleep's spell swigging.
       19:12:05:08:17...

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Does your innocence reject wisdom
as you, twiddling your fingers, are
gazing into the middle,
where you are now?
Sometimes I wander,
twiddling my feet,
twiddling my thoughts
as I peer at your face.
Is that, too, the middle?

I even light a candle,
fear tears but shed none.
So strange are you that
I wonder whether you are
here
or I am
there.
What on earth is existence?

(3 Jan 2023)...

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Look at me I’m solid 
No, I’m Brocken
Look at me I’m laughing
I’m crying

When you know your wrong there’s noting left 

Sometimes I sit around waiting
twiddling thumbs as 
changes are taking

If I tripped would you stumble?
Let me drag you down 
If I ran would you follow?
Hold my hand

The bigger they are the harder they fall
Well don’t you know I’m tall 
Baby don’t you know I’m tall...

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I hate the spectacle that makes a man of beast.
How can money make such a beast of man!
A bear in a tutu dancing for youyou,
balancing on a ball, riding a bicycle for a biscuit,
and [I imagine] bearing the whip, caged
by drunken clowns with their pants down,
and a man in a top hat twiddling his mustache
belongs in the woods.

It’s the twenty-first century: clowns are sad and the top hat is out....

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A gypsy dance enthralls the stars
into a twirl of rustling hems 
as women tap bare feet, guitars
lift twiddling notes of lore’s anthems
along a woodland’s lively fest,
where beaded hair glides in  thrilled zest
to charm night’s hours...to romp away
till wagon drifts when morning strays.



 
My destiny number is 7, though I chose
my path number 8--- jan 8
rispetto form in 8 lines
------------
Andrea Dietrich's Tell Me Your Number Contest...

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