Cork Up Poems - Poems about Cork Up

Shut Up

So tired of the TV talking heads
twisting every word that's said
much of it scripted
and has to be read
they don't even have a vested interest
only putting their mouth
where the money is at best
my advice to them...
'If you have nothing useful to add,
Mum's the word
don't drive us mad,
keep it under wraps
stow it under your hat,
put a lid

Muskerry Spring

At Lough Allua, along the waterfront
One observes a turning of the tide
From river stones, which stay blunt
Are nature’s creatures, who needn’t hide

A little toad searches for anew
Commencing a journey made by few
Its passage, grows so weary
Following the gravel track
On its way to Ballingeary

High ditches cloak edges of the roads
Serving to both sides, a useful shield
Tender

Sean Mitchell's First Cork Brigade

In the heart of Cork City,
Where the Lee runs swift and wide,
Fought a man named Seán Ó Misteil,
With a fire he couldn’t hide.
He lead the First Cork Brigade,
Not for glory, nor for fame —
But to break the chains of empire,
Not just change the flag or name.

So here’s to Mitchell’s Brigade,
Let their story now be told,
As

Untitled

there was a young man named York
who lived with his ma’ in Cork
he asked her one day
what happened to me da’
why you young fool were delivered by the stork

Popping His Cork

    Sick to death of popping his cork

     ~ Ralph plugged it up with paregoric

Dear, Ballyvourney

Located deep in the Muskerry Gaeltacht
The old village of Ballyvourney
Seen from atop Mullaghanish
One better not leave prematurely

Walking through Ballymakeera
I see the Holy Well draw near
Down here in green Ballyvourney
Where Gobnait found nine white deer

I look over the bridge
Gliding to me 
Is a gentle black swan
Not an unusual sight
On the River Sullane

The mist drifts above the

The Grand Town of Macroom

Along the Muskerry Light Railway
One can watch the flowers bloom
It will not be much longer now
’Til the old town of Macroom

Arriving at the station
Collecting bags from overhead
To depart I am too keen
After all it is just not
The train letting off steam

The cattle mart’s in action
I better not be late
As a deal on a good Dexter

The Olde City of Cork

At the Butter Exchange
Is grand commerce in motion 
Yet be under no illusion
Of the merchant’s potion

‘Clip, Clop,’
Go horses’ shoes
On the cobble stones of Lancaster Quay 
From nearby office windows 
Proprietors observe with glee

The little children of Sunday’s Well 
Are taught a well-known adage 
That they must hold their balance 
Whilst traversing Daly’s Bridge

Great ships unload

Blarney Day

In Cork’s old heart
As poetic whispers play,
This district thrives
And tales hold sway.

Oh, Blarney, 
A place for words to craft and flow,
In the realm of stories, 
As hearts jump and glow.

Upon a lofty fortress 
Ancient and grand,
The rock of eloquence
A boon to the land.

Brushed by the daring
With audacious finesse,
Bestowing silver tongues
Through arresting address.

Mists caress the hills
And

DD Sheehan

Raised in North Cork
A man who received widespread adulation
It’s D.D Sheehan, B.L
Of the Irish Land & Labour Association

A poet and wordsmith
Who build the branch network from scratch
To protect those tenants burnt out
From cottages of thatch

Charles Tanner’s death
Left a hole in Mid-Cork
Then up stepped D.D
Which gave political breadth

One great achievement
Was the Act of 1911
Model homes around

The Cork Solicitor

Carrying their brief to Washington Street
Ready to present before the court
A solicitor’s compelling case
Based on the law of tort

The judge arrives on the circuit
Yet in his ways he is hardwired
To let this case run on forever
An efficient ruling, anything but

An hour later, the judge cries
“Time to break for lunch”
Soon, we’ll find the defendant’s motives
About which

T-rex hers the Champagne Cork

T-rex has ears that do not ever stop
With a roar and a stomp, he gives a hop
Landing hard in front of the candy shop.
Where a champagne cork has given a pop.

Bjork and His Cork

Bjork stood upright in the dock
The judge looked up and frowned
The cuffs were firmly locked
As everyone stared him down

It wasn't me he pleaded
I didn't pull the 'trigger'
Surely you can see it now
He was trying not to snicker

Was it not your cork that killed him?
The victim's lawyer questioned?
Your initials are all over it
From one of your

Popping the Cork

The bride and groom, about to pop the cork
But the label read -- Pig Juice, Pure Lean Pork
   The newleyweds were concerned
   Their embarrassment unearned
Then ~ a small bundle dropped off by a stork

Cork It

Dennis was a Dork
Who would not use a knife and fork
He knew it was rude
To handle his food
So his mum shut his mouth with a cork

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