“Do Dolphins Kiss?”  by Celia Berrell

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Do Dolphins Kiss?


The dolphins swimming in the sea

make clicks and squeaks quite frequently.

These sounds move fast through liquid’s layer

compared to noises in the air.


Their clicks and chirps we can’t translate

but that’s how they communicate.

Not all their whistles we can hear.

They’re pitched too high for human ears.


They also sent out sounds to mark

locations of the sharks at dark

by bouncing echoes in the black

and timing when they’re getting back.


Since dolphins have to hold their breath

when swimming in the ocean’s depth

their voices aren’t from air that flows.

Instead they’ve lips inside their nose!


Their happy squeaks and chatty clicks,

those chirpy whistles, pops and hiss

like sounds of children’s playground bliss

are made from just a dolphin’s kiss.

“Dragon Breath” by Dannielle Viera


When icy nights spawn chilly morns
and frost festoons the ground,
I let my inner dragon out
to have a stomp around.

The crunch of grass beneath my feet
draws roars of wild delight.
But rather than a fiery blast,
my breath just comes out white.

Numb puffs of steam swirl to the sky
with every shout and snort.
This winter air does not play fair-
it snuffs a dragon’s sport.



“THE WINTER SEASON” by Margaret Pearce

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The curtain of autumn

Lifts colourfully up,

Revealing performers and actors

And other such factors.


While a glittering gauze

of slanting rain

drapes a curtain of murk

over the choreographer’s work.


The orchestra tunes

and the music swells,

High pitched concertinas

of hysteria screaming.


The ballet builds apace

an intricate dance

of advances and retreats,

And entrechats and leaps


Pirouetting bodies

and high kicking legs.

Sinews straining, arms flung tall

towards the illusive spinning ball.


Victory floating in the balance

Soft shoed boots tilt and point

Towards the stage goals

Of white painted poles.


At last the finale is reached

And in grease painted mud

And lit by media evidence,

Is the troupe’s last appearance.


And that cyclops eyed monster,

that audience of critics and fans,

Shows clamourous appreciation

Of their players’ hard won accreditation.




© Margaret Pearce








“Rainstorm” by Katherine Gallagher

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A single drop

plop  plop  plop

joining other drops






Suddenly the sky’s gone black and dark

as the rain keeps pounding hard

on the street, on the houses

battering windows, never fleeting


raining thicker louder quicker

in the city on the streets

water coming down in sheets

raindrops dropping, never stopping

until, until . . .



© Katherine Gallagher

“Winter Comfort” by Toni Newell

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I love a winters evening,

Sitting on my settee,

Billy’s head on my lap,

Feeling warm and comfy.

Outside the wind is blowing,

And I can hear the rain,

Pelting on the window,

Water gushing down the drain.

The television’s on,

Don’t need to rush to bed,

Tomorrow is the weekend,

Fun and freedom lay ahead.

But in this moment I’ll enjoy,

My time with Billy Joe,

Snuggled on the settee,

Watching a TV show.

“Max” by Jeanie Axton


The frost was glistening on the grass

when Max went out to pee

He trotted to the frozen lawn

and sank down to his knees


Max slipped then slid while yelping

veering left and skidding right

Landing at the picket fence

he gave himself a fright


Alas! Poor Max was stuck like glue

he couldn’t move or pee

Jammed firmly on the frosty post

for all the world to see