Short Cockle Poems

The majestic 
Road Island Red Rooster
Awakens, and yarns
Then, scratches his head,
Flaps both wings and 
Jumps back in bed
Oh my, he goes back to sleep
Dear friend, you promised us
A magic cockle-doodle-doo,
At the crack of dawn...

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Cockle Shell and Debacle

Never shells out except those that are cockle
Each day with Trump did become a debacle;
He never have up or does repent or relent
With mind meant to be totally ignorant
And not only is a shame but also an awful.

Jim Horn...

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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...

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Heart sugar kisses
and mango on rose
and heart full of sweet
into my heart rose
My sparkle of shining
of sparkle of blue
 in night and in day
I love to cockle doodle do
The world is lovely
the world and you are very perfect
every fake of every true
and in my heart desires blue....

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The oldest version dates from Tom Thumbs' 1744 songbook. Modern versions keeping with times, caused 'Mistress' to go dark. 'Cockle' is a seashell.

Mistress Mary sang like canary,
When they surround her stronghold,
Swiped silver bells, hid pearly shells, 
And pretties weigh all in gold....

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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...

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Our bells rung 
Our books shut
Our candles blazing

Water will not protect us
Nor houses keep us safe

Love knows no impasse
It's egress assured

The coldest cockle warms
And the most brave shudders

Love demands submission
The answer is to bow

For we revel in its fetters
Delighting in our erotic machinations...

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My heart is silly,
want you in the morning evening.
Tell me you too today,
we are also your life.

Look like flowers,
keep you happy forever.
Speak like cockle speaking,
meet me when where.
My breaths,your name,
you are my desires.
Tell me you too today,
we are also your life.

My heart is silly,
want you in the morning evening....

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Mary, Mary so ordinary
how is it you never do tell
about the wonders in your
garden of delight with
bluebells and cockle
shells that seem to
glow with a
crystal
light?

And, my dear friend Jack, at last you have
told Mrs. Sprat enough lean now!
You want a cheeseburger and 
a vanilla milkshake
right away and you
will not stand for
another
hungry
day.


~~~~ (to be continued ... perhaps )...

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A crinkled shore on the Upper Peninsula.
We are hunting Golden Eagles.

You find a small stone.
On the surface, a crimp and cockle
of wind and waves
has rucked an impression
of an eagle in flight.

“It's only ripple art, not even
a good depiction,
just water-wear. “
I say.

You throw it back into Lake Huron,
won’t hold my hand,
won’t even look at me,
until I admit the possibility
of divine crinkles....

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A crinkled shore on the Upper Peninsula.
We are hunting Golden Eagles.
Cameras fully loaded.

You find a small stone,
on it, a crimp and cockle
of wind and waves
has rucked an impression
of an eagle in flight.

“It's only ripple art, not even
a good depiction,
just water-wear. “
I say.

You throw it back into Lake Huron,
won’t hold my hand,
won’t even look at me,
until I admit the possibility
of prophetically placed crinkles....

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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...

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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....

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On its surface a crimp and cockle
of a purling tide have rucked an impression
on a stone.
We are here to find Eagles
but the sky is too low and the wind too high.

You show the image on the stone
as if this were the very thing
we had been looking for.

I look at it squint eyed:
could be a crow

You throw the stone into Lake Huron,
won’t hold my hand
won’t speak again
until I admit to the endless possibilities
of crinkles, tides and wind
to produce
magical eagles....

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