Short Coddle Poems

you are on my train
I call you Rumpelstiltskin
you coddle your name...

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Molly coddle,
Life's a doddle;
Pander,pamper,
Baby,pet
Spoil, then cosset.

Shelter,shield
And thoughts conceal;
Handle,dandle
Chaperone and guard,

Destroying common-sense....

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Oh my goodness sake
It is a Pippi Longstocking cake!
I wonder now who dared to make
Such a cake, such a cake, a glorious cake.

It is so professional I tell the model.
Don’t be so nice to her, she does not deserve a coddle.
This was from the wigmaker who had made the cake.
I felt sorry for the model, his heart must hold a stake....

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I'm compelled to view some media, such as,
    FAUX NEWS, like an illusion they portrayed.
Since their deception is masterfully crafted,
    With multiple diversions . . . & truth is belayed.

As if by magic, they've given an audience,
    Tasty morsels of manna, to satisfy heartache.
While they coddle and cradle those of privilege,
    And true by definition, it's all FAKE!...

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I do not sing or dance or model
I do not ring or prance or coddle
I do not ding or chance or swaddle
I do not cling or glance or toddle
I do not sling or lance or mottle.

I play with words, and drink my water.
I laugh at life, and visit with my daughter.
I draw my cartoons, and enjoy my art.
I enjoy my grandchildren, they are my heart.
I spend time with my husband, we are rarely apart....

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The way to a man’s heart is easy to do
Just feed him some coddle or Irish stew 
If you go missing his stomach will growl
He will think he has committed a foul 

When you come home, he be nice as pie
His stomach and heart are not for apart
He will wait for smells to fill the kitchen
Then he will sit like a little kitten 

His eyes all groggily thinking of you
The one and only that fed him the stew...

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	Six Feet = Three Bricks
	Written: by Tom Wright
	2/20/03
	
	On winters night our mom would coddle,
	keeping moppets warm was quite a trick.
	Two feet always got the hot water bottle,
	while the other six feet got heated bricks.
	
	Heated and sheathed before finding beds,
	neath quilts, that seemed in weight, tons.
	With nothing protruding save burr heads,
	too young to recognize we were lucky ones.
	
...

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Surmised, assumed 
 Foreboding shadows brood 
 Like omens without mediums 
 Their strange impressions loom

 Blind they seem 
 Gloating as they gleam 
 Rippling, murmuring 
 Stifling a scream 

 On the brink of speech 
 Their mutterings recede 
 Occupied by the thoughts 
 Of the lost and in between 

 Conceit or dream 
 Mythic or obscene 
 They coddle with a moonlit bribe 
 Confiding the unseen 

 Written by © Raven Drake...

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Dull tones smear and coddle in a gray muddle.
Cow munch cloud fields.
A reality steeped in prismatic conjecture
until I find my spectacles.

I enter reality, a Columbus arriving in America;
not on the continent, but on some island
and outcrop just short of finding.

Gradually, through the resurrection
of rods and cones,
a little myopia and less blind faith
feeds the expectant mind,
until it can see both the daffodils
and the ancient hands that brought them here....

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