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Best Cuckoo Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Cuckoo poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of cuckoo poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Cuckoo Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Cuckoo poems are below this new poems list.

You talk like a cuckoo by sharma, Kishan
A Cuckoo Kangaroo by Ellison, Jack
Cuckoo Clock by Nomaly , Anna
CUCKOO by Ja, Ja
I Know A Cuckoo Song by Emery, Judy
Cuckoo and Crow by sinha, subroto
Cuckoo by Rodrigues, Kim
A Lesson From the Cuckoo Bird by Forsythe, Curtis
Cuckoo - B by Michaels, John
Cuckoo - A by Michaels, John

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The Best Cuckoo Poems

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I'm near cuckoo
This Monday blue
A day not eas'ly recommended
for making sense
I'm way too tense
And hung-over to comprehend it
My mind's on the bend
my imaginary friends
are threatening to abandon en masse
I was perfectly sane
till they pissed in my brain
negotiations are at an impasse
It pains me to mention
the bone of contention
menacing our peaceful existence
my voices of own creation
went above their station
with mutinous and unfair persistence

Old Mother Hubbard
had sneaked to the cupboard
to steal skeleton bones for her yapper
the skeletons in-wait
welcomed their bait
with little resistance managed to trap her
As to why she'd no clue
their demands were few
and until met they'd keep her as hostage
twixt two skeletons squeezed
the hag was well-pleased
only in dreams she was ever in bondage
The skeletons vacated
on their long-awaited
crusade for their rights to be equal
a sudden scurry in my head
when the voices I have bred
became hushed, which was rather unusual
The spokes-skeleton
passed a colorless wind
voiced their single demand:  to remain
"We were made to vanish
to a dark cupboard banished
we demand henceforth to share your domain."
A resounding "No!
You'll stay down below
we're totaling 20, including the yapper
there's hardly space
the din to embrace
and an hour-long queue to the crapper."
"Then the beldam Hubbard
will remain in the cupboard
lore would have it, bare to the bone
the cupboard, that is
not the hag, whose Maltese
diced up raw will be fed to the crone.

We implore you most
kindly engage our host
in negotiations and if necessary plead
we want into his brain
and share your domain
or prepare for a skeleton stampede."


Copyright © delysia hendricks | Year Posted 2013

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My Love Is Real

A pre-lit Christmas tree sparkles the entrance Monet, Van Gough, and Wassily Kandinsky prints adorn the walls of her sitting room a dozen painted roses sit in a faux crystal vase and the smell of apple pie lingers in the air coming from her Scentsy candle warmer resting upon her replica baby grand piano The seconds tick loudly from the tree house looking cuckoo clock as I wait patiently I wait down the stairs she comes waltzing ever so gracefully ever so elegant in her bright flowing yellow dress accented by beautiful costume jewelry my heart skips a beat as we kiss hello and I know yes I know This love is real

Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2015

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Sossled I wandered as lonely as a dog, Me pantaloons were full of frogs Slurping suds while on the grog, Dog paddling with the ducks, I thought I knew her lovely face, Got cuddling with Aunty Grace mascara was every place, me swimming togs got stuck, a rooster crowed up in the church, cuckoo clock was in reverse, I could think of nothing worse, When incest, comes a riding?
18-sep-11 Nancy Jones Contest Name Make me Laugh

Copyright © DON JOHNSON | Year Posted 2011

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Whisper Sweet Nothings

Nothing is like riding this tornado,
wild and twisting, away that we go.
Oh, it is so magical, this adventure,
whipping around, an enchanted blur,
we are more than a mere whisper.

Sensations are the fireworks scream,
wide awake, blasting off into this dream,
this is crazy, this is that in love feeling,
heart racing while kiss stealing,
Super glue sealing, broken heart healing.

This is sweet like cinnamon and honey.
Trip and fall on funny bone funny,
yeah this is what happiness brings,
the sound that only a cuckoo bird sings,
love is more that whispered sweet nothings.

Nothing is like this wild ride,
nothing is like this full blown fire inside.

For contest: Whisper Sweet Nothings

Copyright © Casarah Nance | Year Posted 2017

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- The Soup Cuckoo -

Jealousy is not the fear of losing
but the feeling that our position is threatened
As wet sand between your toes, unwanted

Sometimes jealousy turns into obsession
There are many wars, love your enemies ... never
We fight for love as a tender and small sparrow
Bitter taste, there is a fly in the soup

- Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
  Copyright © All Rights Reserved


Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2017

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Enough with the Chitter Already

As if it’s not enough that I must share this little stump of wood with you, my friend, I have to HEAR you! How much must I bear before you have me going round the bend? Although we are the same birds of a feather, the way you chitter on, I'm turning cuckoo! I can’t believe we still do things together, and this comes keenly from my bird’s eye view! Please don’t be the “little bird that told me!” Go find another bird that “gives a tweet.” You’re going to burst my bird brain, Twiddle Dee. I tweak your beak with one of my clawed feet!
For Francine Robert's Contest: "Enough"

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2011

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Kiss Me in the Shadows

Keep well away from dark, forbidding dreams --
Instead, stay near the hearth and play your lyre;
Sleep even so will wait on wooden beams,
Seducing you beside your cozy fire.
Meticulous and careful you may be,
Evicting darting shadows with the blaze --
Inside your quiet cottage, patiently,
Night's emissary holds you in her gaze.
The cuckoo calls as midnight church-bells chime;
His warning message echoes from the walls --
Enchanted ears have lost all track of time,
So far from whispered fears as silence falls.
Her chilling hands then rip away your voice,
And images assail your inner eyes --
Denying you the act of conscious choice,
On captive lips she mixes truth and lies.
When sunlight climbs the sky and breaks her spell,
She blows a darkened kiss, and bids farewell.

Copyright © M. Teresa Blaylock | Year Posted 2007

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Twisted Goose Goes Cuckoo for Haiku

For P.D's "Going Haiku Crazy" Contest

How Many?

going to St. Ives
met folks on that smelly bus
more than I could count

Just Sleep Walking?

Wee Willy Winky
caught outside a boy’s window
in a night garment

Got Wool?

naked in the lane
three bags-full of wool sheared off
baa baa black sheep fleeced

She Didn’t Know What to Do!

Kids’ cries from inside -
outside an old woman’s shoe
child welfare people

Clean Your Plate!

Licking their plates clean
Jack Sprat and wife do their part. . .
kids starve in China

The Treacherous Hill

pail of spilled water
Jill’s body sprawled over Jack’s
one big bloody mess

What a Ding Dong

good deed for the day
boy scout Tommy Stout by well. . . 
scratches on his arm

Not Even a Bone

old Mother Hubbard
Social Security cut
dog needs a new home

Yellow Georgie

victims of Porgie 
confront him in the playground
his true color shows

The Original Blonde

Bo peep loses sheep
birth of a new tradition. . . 
blonde jokes being told

The Schemer

some spilled curds and whey
spider near a fallen chair
supping happily

Making the Best. . . 

Humpty takes a spill
the whole army can’t fix him
omelets for lunch

Baby Catches On

the church and steeple
and now you show me people?
those are just fingers!

They Say He Couldn’t Keep Her!

gossip in the town
pumpkin shell big as a house. .  
where is Peter’s wife?

Bye, Hushed Baby

the sound of wind’s rush
baby’s cries abruptly hushed
broken branch on ground

*I'm choosing this series of haiku for several reasons.
First, it's the only post I made named "Twisted" so it
is an obvious choice. Second, I do have other poems
I consider a bit twisted, but, I simply cannot
remember the titles of some of these really old poems
to look for them.  Finally, this series was inspired by 
a long ago contest of PD's in which I got the idea
to take nursery rhymes and twist them,  and so 
I'm reviving this series which can no longer be
viewed by anybody here unless it's in a contest!

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010

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Tadpoling parts 1 and 2

part 1 

We bend low under over-hanging branches
lit by reflected river-light gently shifting. 
Our boots suck the muddy bank.
We wade into clear water
the dappled up-light playing 
on our  serious faces.
Intent on our task
hands plunge. 
Cold-shocked I gasp.
You hold your jar steady.
I scoop mine.
Triumphant in a shower of icy prisms 
we hold our prizes aloft,
laughing and shouting,
water streaming down our arms,
jars teeming with tadpoles.
Faces pressed close 
to these underwater worlds,
we stand transfixed.
Each reflects a small disc
of sparkling  sky.

part 2 

April trees rake scudding clouds.
Far away farm dogs bark
at wind-snatched shouts 
of bird-nesting boys.
Somewhere, a cuckoo calls.

In the back garden
a blackbird stakes out his territory.
Ignoring him the cat purrs,
yawning in the sun.

While unnoticed 
on the garden table
beside a upturned jar, 
a sprinkling
of flattened tadpoles
drying in the sun.

The bored cat
saunters by,
her tail held high
in the shape 
of a question mark.

Copyright © Maggie Huscroft | Year Posted 2006

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Grandfather s Clock

  ~ Grandfather's Clock ~
My old grandfather had a clock
It wasn’t a grandfather clock
A clock it was that went tick tock
It sent me mad grandfather’s clock
Till once I hit it with a wok
But it was steady as a rock
And then it laughed and said cuckoo
A little bird went out and in 
It said cuckoo bee bow and boo
Then I took aim and threw my shoe
It ran in fast and closed the door
Of old grandfather’s cuckoo clock
I had enough of all its cheek
I had it planned to glue its beak
So then I sat on wooden floor
And waited there, looked at the clock
Grandfather’s clock that went tick tock 
I sat there long and fell asleep
Then I woke up and had a peep
Grandfather’s clock was under shock
It was tongue tied, not one tick tock
It hung in silence on the wall
There were no echoes in the hall
How strange it felt now that the clock
Had lost its voice, no tick no tock
The little bird made not a sound
No sortie out, no bee no boo
I missed that tiny red cuckoo.
Like a spoilt brat I'd moaned and whined
The way I acted was unkind!
Then I sat down, felt bad inside
I was ashamed. I cried and cried!

As my tears fell I heard tick tock
The friendly sound of grandpa's clock
To cap it all the red bird flew
out of the door and said cuckoo!

Contest: Childrens Story, Dr. Seuss Style
Sponsor: Casarah Nance aided by Abigail

Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2015

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I've a growing b-tch 
of a persistent itch
plaguing a part down under
in a well-hidden spot
sweaty and hot
tearing my sanity asunder

I long for a table
legs sturdy and stable
for a really quick rub up-and-down
even a toothpick
or any such gimmick
heaven help;  it's now inside my crown

Tightly I'm tethered
I grin but nay bear it 
for relief lift my legs a mere tad
the heat's volcanic
the swelling gigantic
as far as itch goes this is bad

Mouth starting to foam
I hobble on home
I've mere minutes 'fore madness takes hold
my head's on the spin
an orchestra within
one step from insanity's threshold

Once inside my abode
rev to fast turbine mode
my eyes and my fingers a-twitch
on the verge of cuckoo
I kick off my shoe
with relish scratch the dastardly itch

I curse, for this morning
I disregarded Ma's warning:
"Today sultry and hot is our weather
to avoid insanity
wear shoes that are comfy 
not those ones of el cheapo leather."

Copyright © delysia hendricks | Year Posted 2011

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Cuckoo Clocks

Cuckoo clocks are quite ornate it is said

     But those raucous squawks we suffer with dread

          Why could not its designer

               Have found a bird much finer

                    Like a sweet trilling canary instead

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

Placed No. 5 in Brian Strand's "Five Lines Down" Contest - May 2011

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2011

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Slams Destroyed Her Head

Slams Destroyed Her Head

She was slammed by slam poetry, boo hoo!
Some folks wondered about the hullabaloo.
When bombarded with dread,
Sad thoughts destroyed her head.
Now, she thinks she’s a blithering cuckoo!

© July 17, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen

Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2010

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Four for the Birds - Footles

Goose Lawsuit Gander Slander Owl’s Knock Knock Joke Who Who Cuckoo? Hen with Bad Illness Stricken Chicken Bird Hits Windshield Smidgeon Pigeon

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013

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      When the Season turns and Old Winter spent,

      Sudden colour blossoms on budding trees.

      The daffodil blooms and young Spring’s sweet scent

      Is gentle carried on the evening breeze.

      Fast changing period of restless mood,

      Faltering sun and uncertain showers.

      Sleeping souls wake from Winter solitude

      Aroused by Spring’s lengthening daylight hours.

     Migrating birds return on sun warmed wings,

     By shaded woodland the yellow primrose 

     Blooms. Nights shorten and the first Cuckoo sings

     And all around Nature’s industry grows.

     Barry Stebbings

Copyright © Barry Stebbings | Year Posted 2017

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The Littlest Elf

Time was running out, Christmas Eve was drawing nigh!
The elves had worked day and night since early in July!
To meet Santa's toy-making schedule, there must be no slack,
To ensure there were plenty of goodies for Santa's toy sack!

Elfie was a mischievous but a hard-working little sprite.
He was the littlest elf of all, alas, this added to his plight!
It seemed that the harder he worked and try as he might,
The hapless little fellow just couldn't do anything right!

For instance, he put Jills in boxes meant for Jacks-In-The-Box,
And placed chirping chickadees in all the fancy cuckoo clocks!
As he daydreamed he painted the fire trucks aquamarine,
And put wheels and wings on every toy submarine!

Talking dollies counted cadence, "Hup, two, three, four!"
Toy soldiers cried, "I want my mama!" as they marched to war!
He placed Lincoln Logs in boxes labled Tinker Toys.
Oh!  What a Christmas 'twould be for little girls and boys!

Santa mused, "It seems that every job I put him on he mars,
So I'll put him to work pulling levers making Christmas Stars!"
He did so well that Santa asked, "Won't you come along with me,
And place a brilliant Star atop every child's Christmas Tree?"

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2012

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The map

Glacial ice melting
The climate suddenly changes
Old relationships.

When the blue jay sings
Listen how wide it ranges
The boundary of spring.

After rain rainbow
Thunder makes the coastland smile
Faith provides the oil.

So I map landscapes
With audacity to see
Change, a boomerang.

I search through petals
To find a woman's soft heart
Felt a bumbled sting

No bridge left to cross
Love drowns everything in tears
So the cuckoo sings

Copyright © L'nass Shango | Year Posted 2009

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Sick lungs whispering secrets untold
Bones reveal tempo with aches and moans
The clock precariously loses time
Pipe in teeth, pen writes the rhymes

Sounds of shadows haunt the halls
Strolling parapets on the walls
Impatiently waiting and growing tall
In darkening anger as night does fall

Tormenting noise of echoing drafts
Spirited shouts of children's laughs
This empty house my creepy craft
Teases the mind with visions of past

Cowering supine in pallet covered
Spare pillow cold smells of another
In loneliness sleep in distance hovers
Concealing dreams of a silhouette lover

A comforting cup drowns a pill
The shadows sleep as cuckoo stills
As mares of night gallop black hills 
My aging body restlessly yields

  An original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner

Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2016

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Dandy's Cuckoo Clock

On a spotty, sprinkled day, at the Plott's house on the block,
A squatty Uncle Scotty had sent a polka dotted,  cuckoo clock!
The family said "That's handy!", and found a spot upon a shelf
For the dandy, new Swiss timepiece, to toddy mix and tea pots!

While Mommy Plott washed all her pots, Daddy Plott worked in the yard
The children, too, were caught worn out,  after swatting flies so hard
By the twilight of the evening, they were worn, like pennies spent 
Supping lentils, corn and pintos, ...then, up stairs they gladly went

Daddy Plott turned out the lights, falling, plop, right into bed
But bolted up with such a jolt!!...loud "CUCKOOS!!" hurt his head!!
The brand-new clock, made such a noise, his nerves hung by a thread !
That yoddling bird, that could be heard, might wake the neighborhood!

It popped out every hour, and the sour house would shake
With a hollering "CUCKOO' voice....with an awful racket made!
They covered it with pillows...and took it from the room
But the "CUCKOO-CUCKOO-CUCKOO" could be heard...from even the moon!!
They would just doze off,  fall fast asleep, and think that it was done....
But when the hands said Next O' would cluck out lots more fun!!

One o'clock, two o'clock, three o'clock...four....!!
The poor little bird, with his voice getting sore....
Saying 'cuckoo', ....'Cuckoo'......"CUCKOO!!!" again !!!

So Daddy took out the tick...........then he took out the tock
Then he defrocked little that he couldn't talk
Now it sits on a the house at the Plott's
Even the clock's little birdy.....can sleep like a rock!

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2010

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Ode To Matsuo Basho

I find you in an old silent pond, The imagery you've left will outlive all, With nature,your immortal bond You will stand like a kiri tree tall. You, the gem of haiku, Your name be echoed in Fuji's peak, Mogami river shall chant your lines Your praise be sung by the Cuckoo. The rivers and the oceans shall seek To preserve you in their shrines. The Cherry trees bow in thankfulness Pines remind of your gingko walks, Spring departs,autumn smiles in happiness The rivers, the winds and the clouds. Though time fades away,deem all out, You shall remain in greenness of nature Forever alive and forever young. This word-wreath be bestowed Upon you and your name shall feature In the valley and ocean shall chant your song.

Copyright © Kiran Bantawa | Year Posted 2013

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Do Dinos Soar

Do DINOS SOAR, do fish have SOLE Do elephants have ANTS in their PHANTS Have you ever seen a real HORSE FLY Or a FIRE that's started by ANTS A PEA CAN go wherever MAN GOES Does a CROC know how to DIAL Is every HIPPOS A POT OF MUSH Can laughing hyenas just SMILE Do MANTIS PREY, does DON have a KEY Is there always at least TEN in a KIT CRYSANTHA'S MUM is such a pretty thing Do LIONS tell the truth just a bit If a PELI CAN, does she wear a Z BRA Does WILL OWE anybody money Does SNOW have a FLAKY personality A bear's favourite would BEE HONEY Are DILLS always DAFFY as far as you know Can CUMULUS CLOUD your view I hear there's some trees that are EVER GREEN Why are BOOBY'S feet always BLUE If you can answer any or all of these questions Write me at seventy-seven Cuckoo Lane I'd sure like to hear from all you folks To prove I'm not going insane © Jack Ellison 2015
(A Re-broadcast)

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2015

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Ruby eyed cuckoo
Shall I stop “my lullaby?”
“Koo, koo” lulls  baby

This is my husband's theme. Thanks to him

Copyright © manel gunatillake | Year Posted 2013

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Wings stealing Sundrops

The elegance of a duck gliding over the still pond....poetry in motion. Down here the serenity of this afternoon of May suddenly shattered by a busy kingfisher, it swoops down to water for day's last prey sending ripples in the still pond water and then vanishes in the hushness of dying day. The Spring comes alive as a cuckoo starts singing last song of the day, its beseeching tone echoes in my mind and in nature. Wings of migratory birds in sky stealing Sundrops for a new dawn. © 2011 kashinath karmakar =================================

Copyright © kash poet | Year Posted 2011

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la la di dah dah la

Earth dwelling mongeese are neither toys nor coins and pedalling backwards then forward is not considered the primary way of jet propulsion off a very high hill. So one two ping means fried rice coming? How long for? Will it rest a while? On a sofa or a couch? It is not particular. When passing trade tickles the fancy if the local gentry then sentries can be posted at doors. And savouring a little bit of currant pie is a fantastic idea in an afternoon soiree. Quite pleasurable really. Resolution reaching radiuses rather radically. How observant is a door frame. How sectioned are the audio reactive wave arches? A temple in a bean burger and a pistol in a frilly night gown. Oooh look a diamante leaf tiarap bending and freeing captured twigs. How rather nice and polite it is. Framework fashioned fixated first fleeces found foundations. And the tail arch from a tailrace is very very very quick and versatile too. Mingle with the moons in a bowl of white leaf soup. And dip feet into puddles to correct erosions of toes. Then upon rising chanting to windows can often display a timely workout in a garden gym. Pushing plants. Wearing weeds. Standing soils. All whilst wearing a Bhatia hat of fine distinction. But to ascertain whether the verb flies south is to organise a noun in a pleasure dome. Not fun. Not good or useful. In fact it is quite unnecessary. In an era measuring two minutes it is wise to be a bee than a mildew. And a tidal force can operate the machinery. So never rely on the symbolic codes on a screen. Point now. Go on point. It is the point that places the cuckoo clock. On the hour song. On the hour chime. Spare not a dime nor a pound for a disturbed crocodile face on a yacht. Travelling. In a pair of white shorts and shirts. Pristine. Cleaned daily. Ha ha said the passing whale. It would be great to knock into the boat and spill the red drink over the oversized frames of those greedy obnoxious humans. They sail around whilst people on the ground over there forage for fodder on the floor like ants. Such fun. Then whale glides away. Monotony does not sit well with whales you see. And a flurry in a hurry is a passing shoal. Ants attempting a backflip to entertain should be stripped and whipped and put in front of the high queen. Then doomed to a life underground removing faeces from carnage brought by the open dwellers. Link not a laughter. And heel clicking is best performed upside-down in the artic circle in a thunderstorm. Plaintiffs plainly play political polo politely and the zoo opens the doors to the wilds for the flood arrives when temperatures dip. The incessant chatting from the thermometer changes and argues with the satellite dish. Woof said the dog in a garden bake sprawled. By a small square empty pool. With a crack. Boil no brow said a fountain in the town. It is here I stand proud. Although I was erected upon ancient graves. I do not care for that. I am delicate and handsomely carved. Curators cheat chickens chatting charging chimes chopped. And the wide angled dish of tomatoes can be located at the west of the supermarket. Ding dong. Eastern smell and a drafty curtain bringing spices unto the streets. Wow. Generalistic genocide gearing gaining goblets. And a wide tooth or pincer works best in the snow than a tongue. Please do be aware that when an eel dons snow boots it is time for the skiing competitions. Worldwide. Of course worldwide. No country is ever omitted in a nature contest. And nowhere to be seen is the mangled mish mashed heaps of fortified blaming brigades. Duel duality daring deviations during denominations. And joining in wisdom spanning decades appropriately. Tailoring hop of a seven foot cloud. Grinning angelic and demonic orchestrations of a circular formation dancing. Whirling. Wow. Fantastic isn't it. Free souls of men. Radius of watery eyes weaving. Hahahaha bookings boy bootjack boots. Hahahahahahah wisdom whirlpool xxxxxxx coniferous clambering clam xxxxx deforestation destitution z

Copyright © Taoi Chanan | Year Posted 2016

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HAIKU & TWO SENRYU ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ white sky... low the clouds winter... stuck in a drift again spring... where are you... ~~~ the bobbin dipper flies below our secret rivers spring... summer delight ~~~ ring ouzel... moorland high craggy tors... upland moors birding adventure ~~~ the avocet fenland treasure... coastal dream no spade required ~~~ harbinger of spring declining population drives birders cuckoo ~~~ be proud... sing aloud needs no invitation jenny wren is spring... ~~~ hedgerows... tinkling bells charms of goldfinches rejoice inviting springtime ~~~ a flash... gone... dived a kingfisher fishing the river ripples ~~~ look high to the sky skylarks sing a challenge give us back our land ~~~ hope... no... it must be put nature on a rostrum give back her freedom ~~~ look... oceans waves on shores display their wisdom ere we could read it ~~~ rock pools... origins with good intent life explodes evolution... real ~~~ our fate in our hands as is... we will all perish give nature a chance ~~~ A SENRYU or TWO ~~~~~~ no known foibles maybe a spring twitcher Maureen McGreavy Jan Allison a moral supporter worth her words

Copyright © Mick Talbot | Year Posted 2018