POEM TITLE
The Legend of Cocodrilla at Blackness on Sea
POEM
The Legend of Cocodrilla at Blackness On Sea
From the balmy beaches of paradise
To the chilly reaches of sacrifice
Cocodrilla twists and sways her way to the Firth of Forth.
A journey removed from her familiar.
But its name alone
Intriguing enough to lure her from home
To a place not in the least bit similar.
Blackness on Sea where she longed to be
Home to the Lobster Pot Pub.
She could eat and eat where she would be free
To munch on sea-faring grub.
A second time in five attempts she reached the Firth of Forth
Trips one through three failed miserably
While traversing the Sea of North.
Her long, long journey paid with the cost
Of the life of her love who was found but now lost.
Be that as it may, turn back she would not
The days of her bask in the sun were hot
Her warm lovely beaches were dying from rot
A paradise laid asunder
Ruined by climate, greed, and plunder.
Now her days and nights are as cold as can be
Since she sought the far reaches of Blackness on Sea
Where she had heard tales of an eatery.
Alas, she reached her destiny.
Emerging from under an icy yacht
Battered and bruised tattered and used
She was ravaged and ravished a lot
None of which stopped her
From broaching the Firth
To get to the Lobster Pot.
She cleaned herself up and brushed herself off
All natural, authentic, and true.
She had after all abandoned her float to join the otters
Traversed the frigid nautical waters
This was her call and it was the least she could do.
From a sea of warm blue teal
To dangers not spoken and floatage not known to be real
She could survive any inlet, outlet, or cove
Including this Firth which held such appeal.
Cocodrilla, her world wet and always wild
All seeing. All smelling. All sensing. All knowing.
All ready for her turn at the bank
When she arrives its payday
A crime of opportunity – nothing more
A girl’s got to stay alive
Snap, crackle, pop. Crunch, munch brunch, lunch.
A girl’s got to eat, doesn’t she?
She had taken the chance did not come here to dance
Charm was never her claim to fame.
Stealth was always more her game.
She will prowl. That’s who she is.
She will lunge. That’s what she does.
She will go deep. That’s where she lives
She will surface to eat. That’s what she loves.
Keep her at bay and you will have your peace.
She’ll go her way and you will cease
Your fear for one more day.
Cocodrilla, give her space. Best you move on to another place.
Cocodrilla, wet and wild
She’s no lady, she’s Crocodile
Beverly J. Miles - September 4, 2022 (505 wc)