I heard an old Irish refrain
rising to make my heart long,
bringing me some kind of solace
and kinship in a sad song.
Tree climbing to where I belong -
by God, I have Irish roots -
Roddy McCorley, breathing
my dead last breath in my boots.
I’ll reunite with my sister -
see her in heaven so sweet,
buying fresh cockles and mussels,
my Molly Malone to meet.
But let us not rush to judgement -
just like Tim Finnegan said,
I’m not ready for the Devil.
Don’t you decide that I’m dead.
Rustic hints of shambolic yet magic shacks
Glints of silky footprint frolic tints the tracks
Mussel sacks demonic crab claw tussle cracks
No skinflint skimps sprinkles winkles & shrimps
Cockles twinkle the bucolic prawns the pimps
Shiny oysters briny gangster & milky prankster
Iconic lobster the mobster swish shellfish stacks
(Although to be fair for the heir of fancy flair fayre
The French care so much oui they say Fruit De Mer)
Delicious hot brown
Warm and soothing
Fluttering my heart
Warming the cockles
Enjoy alone
With friends and family
15 minutes to sing through my veins
Dark or light roast
South American to African
An early morning hit
Or an afternoon brew
A slight bitterness
A moments silence
A few seconds to think and relax
A daily joy
The best thing about waking up
is not the coffee in our cup
warming the cockles
I'd impart
from the bottom of our heart
it's knowing we survived
to see another day arrived
no matter what may come our way
as being late
when we're done and gone
is far too harsh to contemplate
so smell the flavour
savour the roast
and of our time here on earth
before we're toast
let's not forget to make the most
With candyfloss and sticks of rock
Funfair rides made to shock.
Roller coaster big fast rides
All made to hide your eyes
The carousel and kiddies swings
Hoopla darts and all those things
Sandy beach and cockles too
These are the things I loved to do
With candy floss and sticks of rock
Funfair rides made to shock
Rollercoaster big fast rides
All make you hid your eyes
The carousel and kiddies swings
Hoop darts and all those things
The Sandy' Beach and cockles too
These are the things I like to do
The Turquoise Garden
I dream of a magical garden
That lays beneath a turquoise sea
It’s filled with seashells and cockles
And sand the color of honeybees
The coral is the shade of pink roses
The grass is emerald green
Rocks and sea urchins cover the floor
The shy octopus is unseen
It’s home to fish in orange clown suits
Angels without their harps
trumpetfish without their trumpets
And lions without their manes
The seahorses and sea dragons
join the jellyfish and shrimp
In games of tag and hide and seek
In the tunnels of secret caves
Pretty mermaids with their tails of gold
and locks of crimson red
Gather delicate pearls they find
In the garden’s oyster beds
It’s a magical place that I dream of
Filled with the creatures of the deep
And I hope someday I’ll find my way
To the garden in the turquoise sea
I have listened to,your stories
Heard your talk on Human Rights
It’s warmed the cockles of my heart
On many a Bastion night.
The next time I come across,
And I know I surely will
The indiscriminate victim
Of a Taliban kill
I won’t get upset
Or have any sleepless nights
I’ll know the Tali did it in defence
Of his version of Human Rights
And when we leave this country
After years of combat and bravery
And the Afghani woman are
Returned to their Burkha’d slavery
And ISIS cross the channel
Because our security is so bad
And unleashed chaos on the streets
In pursuit of their Jihad
And they demand Sharia law
In my native England
I’ll try to stay calm
And try to understand
And I won’t get upset
And try not to hate
Those religious fanatics with views
Five hundred years out of date
For I have listened to your story
Heard you speak of Human Rights
It’s warmed the cockles of my heart
On many a Bastion night,
Written sone years ago, but the repression goes on with women being denied education and treated like chattels/
We live by the sea, just we two, you and me
It offers us all that we need
From our heads to our toes, you make all of our clothes
From sea grass and sometimes sea weed
If our ocean provides it, you will utilise it
I so like the way that you think
Our clothes made from stuff that you found on the beach
But your feet, well they surely do stink
Those earrings you made from a couple of cockles
That pendant you made from a shell
Your bikini top is a strap and two scallops
But your feet, they surely do smell
I keep us well fed from the sea and sea bed
While you keep us suited and booted
You’re my Wonder Woman it has to be said
But your feet, well they really are putrid
We sit on the shore and we like nothing more
Than watching the waders and dippers
But we can’t stay long, there’s a God-awful pong
For your slippers are made out of kippers
[For the uninitiated, kippers are butterflied, smoked herring.]
“Students make delicious treats for seniors”
What a sacrifice those students are making
It warms the cockles of this old man's heart
Such a sweet and unselfish undertaking
“Teen pregnancies drop off after twenty-five”
Well, I certainly would hope that's the case
That's a dirty big family in any man's language
For the beds, you'd soon run out of space
“Veterinarians take over as panda mating fails”
Okay, now I've got this strange mental picture
It's definitely X-rated if you ask this old guy
I mean really, we should show some respect
“Stiff opposition expected to casket proposal”
It's kind of what you would probably expect
Given the condition of the deceased inside
I mean really, we should show some respect
“Head of African country seeks arms”
Wow! Just a head and a couple of arms
What a weird sight that would turn out to be
Most people would sure be alarmed
“Studies have shown that obesity rubs off”
Well, if that's the case, I'll be a-rubbing
Every day and night till my skin turns raw
Till I get back my happy old zing!
Quote by Dandapani:
A man who prepares for war invites war/A man who prepares for God invites God
War And Peace
I am not ready to strap a grenade to my chest
for the sake of more power
Nor am I ready to kill my fellow man for the
sake of pleasing my Government
I am not ready to die so that I could know
which side of the fence I didn't blow
War and Peace, a silver knife ready to be used
Once side butters organs for evil doers full of hate
the other, the cockles of a compassionate heart
I rather die in peace donating my parts to love
then in a merciless cruel way such as war...
How about you, how do you wish to die ?
When we are no more
will there be skin to jump out of?
Will we still skinny-dip in the nothing?
Will Summer rain still feel like
a first kiss and the last?
Will there be rainy summers
and bone-bright winters?
Will there be mind-Harley’s?
Plasma shotguns for shooting
long dead ducks?
Cherries and Cheerios?
Will most things still be not worth waiting for?
Will we need more mind-flesh
or will we be skin-tight to the light?
When we are gone
will it be a so-long song
or a bye-bye blip in the never begun?
I do so hope there will be
honey in my tea at three or four o'clock
and a good book
to warm the cockles of my heart
in the now and evermore.
I do so.
Whenever a hazy sun sets
behind some somber clouds
and a lazy breeze moans
through the grassy plains,
You go out looking for me
and find me nowhere,
Just recall those days of yore
when we were ever together
blissfully lost in each other’s arms
beside some sprightly stream…
Yield not to dark despair, dear
I am just a thought away.
When a gust of whimsical wind
flirts with your tresses and
caresses your fair skin,
When a whiff of fragrance
arouses your longing,
When the balmy rays of sun
warms the cockles of your heart,
Though I may not be beside you now…
Take heart, my love
I am just a thought away.
Even though I have to
sail forth for the yonder shore
and the distance tears us apart,
Just summon those fond memories
of the days we left behind…
For I am just a thought away.
~Contest: A Lovely Memory
~Sponsor: Regina McIntosh.
Oysters jump at an opportunity to die
To be eaten before the tide comes rising
Directly from the sea before the shell
Before the dawn begins to smell of day
In the raw, in the sand, in good company
Is best when frolicking by the happy sea
The pretty girl comes dancing in
In curls of golden locks that spring
Wind fills her dress and mind of hollow
She sings merrily of imaginary beings
From the docks she takes her basket
Full of emptiness for idiots like you
Down winding streets goes Daisy tip toe
Pronouncing words unknown to her
That have meaning only to the lunatics
Lost souls on narrow streets who like to eat
It is a perfect time to sell her wears
A litany of exotic goods on sale
Barked out loud to catch the near by ear
“Hot breads and pies fresh off the fire
To warm the cockles of your heart”
But there’s nothing in the basket but fresh air
Is there a crime or misdemeanor on the streets?
“Fresh baked on the morrow” screamed
But tomorrow never comes it seems
Fainte brethe of thine, so sweete and pure, that falleth on my breste
Arouseth love within my hearte that beateth in my cheste
And when thine loving handes caress the cockles of my hearte
Makes angells danceth in my soule for we shall never parte
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