#fiddle
When you are, actively, seeking God;
How God may find you.
“Jump(ed) up on a hickory stump”,
And He had a way of finding you.
Some fiddle is important
For the second half of the show.
It was, either, you, me, or him.
And we quietly found the sun in a hush.
The boy is not in a rush for this to end.
And it is not about winning,
Unless your soul was on the line,
But at, at least, he got the golden fiddle.
©2025Ellen Finn
Nov 16, 2025
Nov 16, 2025 at 12:49 PM UTC
I am going to forget your memories from my heart,
It's as if I'm going to erase my own existence.
This fiddle 🎻 I play so passionately as an art,
It's as if I'm going to shatter it down piece by piece.
I am going to forget your memories from my heart,
It's as if I'm going to erase my own existence.
May these clouds cry their shower along me,
For today, I'm going to weep like grown-up babies.
Fingers hurt, especially the ones in my left hand,
As they slide vigorously on the violin's neck.
Let me rub my regrets onto this rebec's neck,
Ah! The friction on the strings pierced my fingers.
This violin's strings become undone by my ferocity,
I'll sleep, knowing that I can't be loved by any.
Sep 22, 2024
Sep 22, 2024 at 12:19 PM UTC
One more silver dollar
buy another time a chance,
it was a time, not a dream, and
now has been, after that ever since
wisdom swept over me, my reality,
yours, in the same time, our reality
on starship earth, where the ancient
spells have been found to loose oath bound,
if you read this far, I wrote this far, and loved
the company in a same yeast state, define
state in states where war is made possible,
by treaty, representational power,
aimed at the child in the old man
being given worst, worsted wool's my first
right twist to be available in culturally npc
blend, walk by, that guy 120 fps
You could always see first he was not there.
Jul 22, 2023
Jul 22, 2023 at 11:33 PM UTC
Hey little fiddle
I drink too much
You smoke too little
I met your mom
And your dad
Your little sister is EMOtional
Groundhogs day sad
I talk without reason
Left a bad man
For his treason
Let go of obscurity
To find the one thing I gotta be
Me
So hey little fiddle
Your moods swing from
Happy
Sad
Mad
American Rag-Tag
Glad
So play your notes
Take your tallies
I'll count votes
Hey little fiddle
Check out this finger
For you, right here
In the middle
Dec 13, 2019
Dec 13, 2019 at 8:36 PM UTC
My brother was a lion at home,
Protecting his family fiercely.
An eagle as a supervisor in the factory,
His eyes everywhere.
An ant, always busy never taking rest,
He was a cat and monkey,calm and agile,
He loved children,
He was a dove and a kitten with them,gentle and playful.
He loved swimming and was a fish in water,
He had won many national awards.
He was a fiddle but a wolf too,
Fit but always hungry,
He loved pizzas and anything that was barbecued.
He had his bad points too,
He was an eel, slippery,
Never committing himself to anything,
He was also a mule, very obstinate .
And when he saw cockroaches,
He brought the house down,
Became a ghost, white sheet.
2/11/2019
Nov 2, 2019
Nov 2, 2019 at 5:45 AM UTC
I wonder how they see you
how they describe the great you
would they see things like I do?
would they say what I would I say?
I say you're a flower
gently dancing in the fields of beauty
I say you're a violin
you fiddle away the unwanted mellow in my life
would they see that? I hope so
In my heart you're more than what you are
I see you, clear and bright
with beauty ignite
Mar 28, 2019
Mar 28, 2019 at 11:31 AM UTC
rain bird serenades,
Squirrels play second fiddle;
ravens party-poop!
Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 9:29 AM UTC
he has a penchant
for tinkering with stuff
if given half the chance
he'd tinker with his navel fluff
I've seen him tinkering
with working order stuff
that doesn't need any tinkering
put upon its cuff
some while back he
decided to have a tinker
with a room partition at the hall
and as a result of his
non essential tinkering
down came the east facing wall
tinkering is an occupation
of the tampering ******
unnecessarily touching stuff
with an interfering fiddle
Mar 12, 2018
Mar 12, 2018 at 7:06 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Too late to call,
Deliberately passionate about how you've been doing,
Crossing fingers in hopes that you don't see someone else and give all of your fruit and your veggies to them,
Putting yourself on the line for them,
Waste all your time with them,
Make me jealous in utter Requiem.
Stone cold blind men could see you from miles away admiring all that you are in a world where some will degrade,
Fight the sun if you gone from the shade,
The Sweat and the pain to be thrown to the wolves and sheeple eludes to the people that don't give a care about what is actually really important to see and look forward to, this corrupted world got a hold of you,
But I still love you,
You're delightful,
Hot like the summer,
So insightful,
Wait am I degrading a little? the situation is belittled, playing fiddle.
Feb 10, 2018
Feb 10, 2018 at 10:23 AM UTC
johnny was playing
when he beat
the
devil
we
are
the
ink
that
thinks
when
your
eyelids blink
if
you
think
you will
catch me
in
the
middle
just remember
we are the fiddle
?
...
..
.
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 3:11 PM UTC
A toll rings loud and clear throughout the musty cellar,
Through the halls of the vast dungeon at night.
I wait for one of them to come down and speak
To me about the "others," the valued, the "wise,"
It's the same thing every year, this lonely life.
I hear a creak, must be nothing, I turn on the light,
Swear I saw a ghost, still nothing.
Vaguely, I've been searching for an answer to this riddle,
It will only take a few moments of your time
To sit there between the vagabond with the fiddle,
And the one who must be low as slime.
It's your call-I ask you-for your opinion,
You laugh in my face-if I seek your words-I'm a disgrace,
Riddled with handed down problems, no given grace,
A roaring of thunder, brew of secret ingredients,
From a distance I can still hear you laughing in my face,
Speaking magic spells of strange and creepy "enchantments,"
Even from afar, even from my un-chosen wife's place.
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 9:31 AM UTC
i have known nights
where men walk the sun
and the stars count people
sheep huddle together
in grassy fields
dreaming
of fences
worn down
see, the funny thing
about nights is
at some point
you can’t tell the difference
between the first
and the last
(And hey,
****** ******
The cat’s lost his fiddle
Orion’s got a belt
Round his neck)
the lass
on the moon
plucks planets
from the blue
and decorates
the tangles in
her hair
see, the funny thing
about dreaming is
at some point
you can’t tell the difference
between what hurts
and what doesn’t
(The cat’s started drinking
Orion’s stopped thinking)
dawn
decides to sleep in
for just
another hour
or two
see, the funny thing
about nights is
i have always known them
but know nothing
of you
(And the fiddle has gone out of tune).
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 6:56 PM UTC
Why you'd ask if you saw me now,
My head slung low and shoulders down.
You used to be so big and strong,
Baby tell me what went wrong.
Why won't you tell me what went wrong
I used to be a tower, but now I am no more.
I used to wield such power, likes never seen before.
I used to be a castle, till one crept in 'guised silly and aloof.
And razed my lands around me while I fiddled on the roof.
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 7:48 PM UTC
Electrics shafts cuts
The bubbling shade shakes
Fiddling all islands
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 5:32 AM UTC
My caressing hands have stopped trying to tame the strings.
They move now more to harmony than to melodious things.
Brassy bands, drunk sailors and the sound of laughter.
The D string, the rough bar-stool clamp and clatter.
The sound of voices, raucous and hoarse with song.
The sound of voices, laughing as they all yell along.
It's a barstool anthem;
It's great and it's loud.
There're no classics here...
but Bach would be proud.
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 9:16 PM UTC
Satan plays the violin; the same shape and tone as mine.
The devil passes time in Hell by playing fiddle,
and if I had to guess; I think that's the reason why
he knows the answer to life's riddle,
because its trilling's the only feeling filling
enough to get away with that beautiful lie.
It drowns the screams of the ****** that died;
and briefly
tells us we are still alive.
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 1:27 AM UTC
Hey ****** ******
The cars do a twiddle,
They twist and turn on the road,
Dodging the *** holes,
Some with broken controls,
I've even seen some being towed,
Hey ****** ******
The road in the middle,
Needs a little repair,
If you can swing by,
And give it a try,
And pretend you're a council that care,
Hey ****** ******
Thanks for the repair in the middle,
But the road needs a whole new coat,
Take care when crossing,
Cause the road's all rutting,
You'll need to be a mountain goat.
Hey ****** ******
Is the council on the fiddle,
Just like Nero did in Rome,
Please come and fix it,
You'll need to bring a tar pit,
Cause it's shaking the walls in my home.
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 10:26 AM UTC
when you realise
why you have to go
you feel a rapid constant
pulling you close
just as you fiddle and frazzle
lose hope lose sight lose all
but the big ol' sun will never die
stay by the light
you'd be fine
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 1:58 AM UTC