Best Cockle Poems


Simplicity's Gifts

Cockle shell candles and firefly lights
padding the path to the woods
Grass crunched and scattered in weeds and in patterns
of the way every garden should look
Cobblestone herb baths and sleepy old stars
shooting the breeze in the dark
Waiting for someone to wish and discover
the cobblestone path in their heart
Night time is patient and fragile and ancient
with secrets just bursting to share
Turn up the jasmine and glow in the shadows
with eyes open wide to the moon
Luxuries lunar light swinging old stars
parading their final hurrah
Flittering fireflies brush up on moves as they
follow the trails of the heart
Pumpkin shaped lanterns delight the warm eye
orange and gold muted voice
Hanging from tree limbs bent down to oblige
and also to be understood
Fly on with sonar and pipe cleaner wings
soaring above all the lights
Lit up like secrets, hovering, weaving
simplicity's gifts of the night...
Categories: cockle, happiness, imagination, life, mystery,
Form: Free verse

Oysters

https://s-media-cache-   ak0.pinimg.com/236x/72/97/79/7297796a1920d9e3fb4a59ff6da498ab.jpg
Pin 4198: Disney Gallery - Alice in Wonderland Series (Baby Oyster)
Variations on The Walrus and the Carpenter"  a narrative poem by Lewis Carroll that appeared in his book Through the Looking-Glass, published in December 1871. 

OYSTERS

The tide was low the sun was high
The beach was long and very dry
The moon had argued it wanted to stay
But try as it might, could not get its way
 
The beach was dry and very long
Two figures came walking along
They wept as they went and quietly spoke
Of cockle shell boats rowed by gentle folk
 
With the sun high and tide so low
They could see where the oysters grow
The Walrus exclaimed I have a strong hunch
That we have found a delicacy for lunch
 
The beach was long and very dry
Dining under the open sky
The carpenter scraped butter on his bread
While saying those oysters looked over fed
 
The tide was low the sun was high
Hear me oysters he did descry
Come and join our party under the Sun
Where you will have lots of wonderful fun
 
The beach was dry and very long
The oysters came singing a song
La da dee we are happy as can be
We will party then go back to the sea
 
With the sun high and the tide so low
One oyster cried please do not go
But the other oysters were more sanguine
For the carpenter offered them some wine
 
The beach was long and very dry
There seemed to be nothing awry
The oysters sat and listened to tall tales
Of dragons and knights and ships in full sail
 
The tide was low the sun was high
Alas the oysters end was nigh
The Walrus said oysters do not decline
The carpenter and I shall start to dine
 
The beach was dry and very long
No more was sung the happy song
The walrus looked at the gentle sea swell
The carpenter held the last empty shell

Dedicated to my friends Mikki & The Queen of Ghali
Makers of the most wonderful magic

~Completed  22/04/2015~
Categories: cockle, fantasy, fun, nonsense,
Form: Rhyme

Living a Lie

Here I was pretending 
Not to see the truth that laid before me.
Forever suppressing my correct thoughts 
That were safely locked up in my unconscious.
But, presenting my views and opinion as if
The truth never existed…

Here I was ignoring
To look at the truth that laid before me.
Always repressing my real feelings
From the cockle of my heart.
Yet, smiling and beaming as if 
The truth never existed…

Here I was avoiding
To face the truth that laid before me.
Constantly curbing my true actions
That stood at the edge of my cognizance.
Nevertheless, displaying my pseudo me as if
The truth never existed…

But only to finally learn that
With the forever, always and constant lie,
Lie that I was living
Was a short life.
And only the truth has the
Forever, always and constant life.
Categories: cockle, faith, how i feel,
Form: Epic

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


The Reunion

The Reunion

I’ve been invited to a classroom reunion,
I can see my old chums over there.
Geordie Cockle has got a green suit on,
While Denver Crisp, is sporting no hair.

These people don’t look as I remember,
Some are grey, some old and some fat.
Willy Heather is in parliament as a member,
Lisa Tabby, has brought her new cat.

The years haven’t been kind to Tim Jolly,
But made a looker of Beverley Sprite.
Dandy Beano is still a right wally,
Sharing bad jokes and drinking all night.

Danny Sergeant has just left the army,
With a medal to make us all proud.
Des Troy clenches a fist and goes barmy,
Describing his war, to an avid small crowd.

Trudy Trotter now owns a small Pig farm,
Making bacon for the town folk of Wick.
Amy Fry prints Tee shirts “Keep Calm”,
and Tim Throup left early, feeling sick.

The problem with the old-school reunion,
Is the boasting, tall tales and the rest.
Familiar old faces, but no playground fun.
Why did I reply, to my reunion request?
© Kevin Shaw  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: cockle, best friend, celebration, friendship,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Killifish

I've got a dish of killifish
I wish to eat that silly fish
Baked, or fried in peanut oil
Roasted, dried, or let to boil.

Make me a star-gazy pie
Take me to the Catfish Fry
Lead me to the China Sea
Feed me hermit crabs and brie.

Help me out with rainbow trout
Salt and thyme and wedge of lime
Filet of sole, or snapper red,
Served up whole, or just the head.

Meals of eels caught on reels
You're the star with caviar
Butter clams served with yams
Can't say no to salmon roe.

Tuna eyes baked in pies
Oh so daring pickled herring
In the lurch for snails and perch
Ring the bells for cockle shells.

Canned sardines on toast with greens
Sturgeon, sprat, and stuff like that
Grouper, pike, that's what I like
Smelt and bream that make me dream.

Cajun shrimp for my new pimp
Lutefisk and lobster bisque
Flying squid and yellowfin
Silver carp and capelin. 

Give to me a plate of oyster
Eat them raw, that way they're moister
Tilapia and tiger prawn
Eat them 'til my hunger's gone.

Hake or krill would be a thrill
Bass and shad will make me glad
Tasty crappie makes happy
Give a nod to Greenland cod

Oo! I'd like a northern pike
Barramundi served on Sunday
Grouper, alligator gar,
Halibut or no cigar.

Amberjack atop hardtack
Pan-fried kipper for the skipper
Mackerel, tasty as hell, 
Lox and mullet down the gullet.

Kokanee or marlin blue
Arowana, bowfin too
Bring to me your soups and stews
Sing for me the dogfish blues.
Categories: cockle, animal, fish, fishing, food,
Form: Rhyme

A Crook Cook

Captain Cook he had a chook
But eggs it wouldn't lay,
So he ate the chook and now he's crook,
He cockle-doodle-doos all day.

Captain Cook he had a horse 
But the horse it wouldn't run,
So he ate the horse as a main course,
Now he neighs in the noon day sun.

Captain Cook he had a cat
But the cat it wouldn't meow,
So he ate the cat, now he's so fat,
His belly-button just went pow!


-more poems like this can be found at:
kidscomedypoetry.com.au
Categories: cockle, children, funny,
Form: Rhyme


Ode To a Dump

They said “La Coquille is beautiful” they led me on, they lied,
It's nothing but a one horse town and now the horse has died.
It sits astride a major road, it's neither here nor there
Amazing if you're passing through, but visit if you dare
There's absolutely nothing there for you to do or see
And I know of a thousand places I would rather be
It's time to go, we're moving on, we've almost served our time
But really for the life of me, I can't recall the crime
So fare thee well, you cockle shell, a memory soon to be
And Bon Courage and Best of luck to those replacing me!
Categories: cockle, home, humor,
Form:

Memorials

My father's bone is in his grave
My mother's bone the same
But your bones battered by the wave
Are found in children's game

They collect them for their colors
The nearest thing to pearl
A child may own; time murmurs
Against our sandy world

Mollusk shrines and cockle shells
It's all your kingdom leaves
And evening with purples spells
O heart that ever grieves.

The year is run, many gone
I shall not see again
Still will come a new dawn
Till then I keep my pain.
Categories: cockle, death, depression
Form: Verse

Enduring a Monsoon

I was awakened by the sounds of clatters and thumps
as a whoosh of breeze made my window blinds thud.
I rose with a groan and felt the rise of goose bumps
on my skin. Frigid morning air was chilling my blood.

Far in the distance was the boom of thunder's roar.
No cockle-doodle-do would I hear at break of dawn,
for the wise rooster knew rains would soon begin to pour.
There'd be no more sleep for me as I stifled a yawn.

I shuffled to the kitchen as the wind began to howl.
While coffee was brewing, my new pup started to bark.
I whispered, "Alright, boy. It's just the hoot of an owl."
Creaks and clangs always sound scarier when it's dark.

A tempest wind rattled my windows with a loud clatter.
The rumble of more thunder caused my heart to flutter.
Rain splashed against the panes with a resonant splatter,
and then I heard "WHAM BAM," and off flew my shutter.

I hushed my dog when he began to whimper and whine
and decided to build a fire, all the while humming a tune.
Finally, he relaxed when the rain stopped, just before nine.
We slept until noon, after enduring that dreadful monsoon.



July 18th, 2022
Onomatopoeia Contest
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
checked with rhymezone
Categories: cockle, storm,
Form: Rhyme

Confusing Musings

I’ve written on so many themes
Of one sort or another
The only thing I know for sure
I’ll never be a mother

These words of mine are all the kids
I’d ever want to father.
Sometimes they don’t say all they should
But still they’re worth the bother

If I could find a word somewhere
To rhyme Chicanery
‘Twould even give me pleasure
Were I in a granary

So just before I go to bed
I take my pen to write
In hopes some seizure in my head
May somehow spark a light

No they’re not all epiphanies
And rarely erudite
These ideas I’m so quick to seize
While in my bed at night

But I’ll keep counting syllables
In hopes someday I might
Find just the ones to fill the bill
With words that rhyme just right

Now painting pictures with my words
Is not what I am after
I want the rhythm and the rhyme
To lead some one to laughter

Just a giggle or a chuckle
At the end or at the start
Would warm the coldest cockle
Of this thing I call my heart. 

Just another Warrenpiece
Categories: cockle, funny, giggle, heart, humor,
Form: Rhyme

Bromham Fields

autumn rainbows stripe
vegetable september
across bromham fields;
roundway island, hazed in mist
on a marrow orange sea

wiltshire sunbeams fall
gold on the cockle pickers
green fields, fishermen;
down fruit littered ditches glint
glitter strewn rivers of light

© Gail Foster September 16th 2016
Categories: cockle, autumn, beauty, earth, england,
Form: Tanka

Premium Member A Pirates Delight

A mermaid lost her seaweed bra
She’s naked and cries ‘ooh la la’
Using pink cockle shells
She covers her two ‘swells’
As pirates ogle from afar!

Pirates Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin

Syllables checked with how many syllables 8.8.6.6.8

4/10/19
Categories: cockle, humorous, sea,
Form: Limerick

And Then

An old cowboy still wore his spurs
As he entered the cool dark bar.
He brushed his jeans of cockle burrs,
Waved his hat for a whiskey jar.

He looked 'round at the Friday crowd,
Smiled and recalled his younger day.
And then he heard him brash and loud -
A young cowboy with hell to pay.

He slammed through the old batwing doors,
Sat down at the old man's table. 
He said."Pop,I'll give you 'what fors'
If you don't leave while you're able."

And then the old man kinda smiled.
He said, "Son,I'd leave were I you.
Things 'round here are 'bout to get wild.
You're 'bout to lose a tooth or two!"

The young cowboy leaned back and grinned
As the old man swung the bottle.
They swore that you could feel the wind
As he hit the chin full throttle.

And then he laid there 'neath the table
With a changed view of these old men.
Don't take on more than you're able -
You don't know where these guys have been.

4/17/2017
For contest And Then..
Categories: cockle, humorous,
Form: Cowboy Poetry

Premium Member To the Intruder In Mary's Garden

(Mary, Mary quite contrary, tending your garden just so;
planting your bells and cockle shells, and hoping to grow.)

I built a little house,
And dared to plant a few flowers in the garden.
Surrounded by gray stone walls and a prickly hedge,
The violets and the daisies grew unmolested.

I wasn't inhospitable.
I placed a bell on the front gate,
And built a flagstone path towards the kitchen door, 
For all legitimate passers-by.

But you came creeping,
Like a thief in the night. 
Over the wall,
And past the gate;
Sewing seeds of dissent
Wherever you trod. 

I suspected something might be wrong,
But I did not want to see,
So I buried the thought.
Trouble is, burying and planting 
Can have the same effect.

An alien bush
Grown from a monster seed,
Appeared like a feral plague.
I pruned and trimmed,
Pruned and trimmed,
Trimmed and pruned,
To no avail.

So now I see in the light of day,
Please take your weeds
And go,
Go far, far away.

For the entrance is the door,
And visitors ring the bell.
Those who stalk and slink
Mean nought but ill
I think...
I think.
Categories: cockle, abuse, nursery rhyme, psychological,
Form: Free verse

That's My Boy

"Put a blanket 'neath that saddle!
You'll rub that poor hoss raw!"
Cain't get these young guys off the phone
Beats all I ever saw.

We had a brandin' yesterday
An' he forgot his rope
He was textin' in the saddle -
I dang near gave up hope

I cain't just fire him, he's my boy
So what's a pa to do?
Someday he'll own this spread I love
An' have a kid or two

I called him over for a talk
Said, "Son, you know I pray.
Last night I talked to ol' St Pete
An' told him of our day.

"I gave him your cell phone number
So he would have a way
To get in touch when your time's up
An' take you as he may.

"I told him you'd ride off a cliff,
Or get gored by a bull -
Maybe drown in a roaring flood
When the river's full.

"St. Pete knows that the world ain't real
To a boy on that phone
An' when the boy sees what he's missed
The good times are all gone."

Today he put the blanket on
An' brought his rope and spurs
Stayed in the saddle 'til sundown
An' fought the cockle burrs.

He looks more like the man he is
Than a kid with a toy
He just hung up and went to work
An' friend, that's my boy!
Categories: cockle,
Form: Cowboy Poetry
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