“G” Goose by Jan Darling

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CURIOUS COLLECTIVES  

G GEESE

A Goose is a Goose is a Goose is a Goose

She’s a sociable gal who’s not on the loose

A gal?  Not a pal? To whom does she pander?

Her boyfriend of course – he’s called a Gander.

 

They’re sociable birds – faithful and kind

Once got together – as family they bind.

Goose lays the eggs and sits on their nest

While Gander the loyal, stands guard east through west.

 

The larger the bird, the longer the wait.

From laying of eggs to arrival of freight;

Depending on kind it’s four to five weeks

‘Tween no-one to feed, then up to nine beaks!

 

At two to three months they take their first flights

And have their first chance to see home from the heights

When the nest’s full, the babies are jostling

While living at home, the young are called Gosling.

 

With family they fly to see some of the world

Through all kinds of skies and clouds that are curled

When they reach the place where each one was hatched

They catch up with their friends and all are despatched.

 

When Goslings join up to fly round the clock

So many together we call them a Flock.

They seek new adventures and these they will find,

With new friendships made leaving no one behind. 

 

When Geese fly so close that they look like a lump

There’s a special name – they’re called a Plump.

A Plump of Geese, many a sister and brother –

How do they not bump into each other?

 

When adult geese fly in great numbers we say

They’re a Skein or a Team and no one will stray;

When they fly in a V-shape, that’s called a Wedge

As neat as can be from edge right to edge.

 

There’s a special technique they use for migration:

They gather their thousands in V formation.

Each bird flies above the bird right in front

Creating a marvellous aerial stunt…

 

This flight reduces resistance to wind

A clever technique with science twinned

To maximise effort and save the birds’ strength

For a successful migration, no matter the length.

 

So far we have Geese in Plump, Flock and Skein

In the Team and the Wedge, not together in vain.

They’re all in the air, but when Geese are grounded

It’s a Gaggle of Geese, ‘cos that’s how they sounded.

 

They’re creatures of habit with hearts that are true

Once they are mated it’s always the two

Each year they return to the nest made together

Regardless of age, regardless of weather.

 

If times are good and food is a-plenty

Your fortunate Goose may live up to twenty.

When one mate dies, the other does mourn

Often living its life alone and forlorn.

 

It’s true that Geese will find comfortable quarter

Their only real need – being close to the water

They eat nuts, grass and berries, mixed with some seeds

It’s much the same for all of the breeds.

 

Notes:

What is a male Goose called?

What is a female Goose called?

What is a young Goose called?

How old is a Gosling when he takes his first flight?

Do Goslings stay with their parents all their lives?

What do you call a group of Goslings?

How many names can you think of for groups of Geese?

What is the special name for a group of Geese on the ground?

What shape do migrating Geese fly in?

Why do Geese fly in a V shape?

How long can a Goose live?

You can listen to the honking sounds made by Geese on YouTube.  Just type in ‘Sounds of…..” and you will be directed to an appropriate website.

 

”Fisherman’s Daughter” by J.R. McRae

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Fisherman’s Daughter   by J.R.McRae

 

The fisherman’s daughter, she dances the fish!

She dances the fish in their silvery gowns 

All the way over,

All the way down,

“Come quickly, my pretties,

Come sliver-fire flash!

Show me your colours,

Leap high, wide and splash

Down into the fish-trap my father has set!”

 

The fisherman’s daughter

Weaves them a dance,

They follow her leading

Without backward glance.

She dances, she dances,

They leap and they dive

Mercurial lances,

That shoot the wave live!

 

She dances, she dances,

The foam horses prance

Down the long waves

Racing fish to the shore!

Wave horses turn,

But the fish can no more. 

 

She dances, she dances,

They follow entranced,

One after the other

They tumble and fall,

Flipping and thrashing

Held fast in her thrall!

 

Into the fish snare,

One after the other,

Unthinking, unblinking,

Their numbers enmesh,

Caught fast, 

A seething turmoil 

Of writhing flesh!

 

She laughs and claps

As the men draw the nets.

Her father smiles

But her fate is set,

For the deep sea demon saw and heard,

Reached out

And swept her

Away to the deeps

And there he has kept her.

 

Alone on the cliff-top ,

A lone figure weeps… 

J.R.McRae’s writes award-winning poetry/haiku [Blood and Other Essentials… poetry collection out soon], novels [Free Passage, Cats’ Eyes] & short stories. Included in Quadrant Book of Poetry, 2000-2010, Basics of Life [ALR Anthology], Trust and Treachery, Colours of Refuge, Antipodes, Social Alternatives. Artwork/photography features in Musings: A Mosaic, Best of Vine Leaves, Prints Rhyming Anthology. As J.R.Poulter, she writes award-winning children’s books and heads Word Wings Books. Websites: http://www.jrmcrae_subversive.weebly.com, http://www.jenniferrpoulter.weebly.com/  www.wordwings.wix.com/publishing   

“Two in the Park” by J.R. McRae

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“Her Majesty’s Adviser” by JR Poulter

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“Yard Cricket” by Ron Marsh

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YARD CRICKET

 

On pleasant summer afternoons,

My dad and I play cricket.

The dog he loves to chase the ball,

So he’s behind the wicket.

 

Our yard is small,

And so the ball

Is not hit very far.

But if we hit a window,

We cop a blast from ma.

 

I hit a whopping six some days.

That’s when it goes next door.

And if the neighbour gets upset,

We take that off the score.

 

When dad is batting I get scared.

I wish my gloves were leather.

He hits them fast, and most get past,

As I clap my hands together. 

“Possums and Pumpkins” by Ron Marsh

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POSSUMS AND PUMPKINS

 

I planted a small pumpkin seed,

Hoping that in time,

I’d have a crop of pumpkins,

Growing on the vine.

 

I did not think of possums,

Those pesky climbing”rats”,

If only they would fall from trees,

And please me with the splat.

 

They ate up all the pumpkins,

They were not even ripe,

And then attacked the parsley,

I think it gave them gripe.

 

They damage all my fruit and veg,

It isn’t very fair,

I’m not allowed to chase them,

Or even pull their hair.

 

I guess I’ll have to just sit back,

And let them have their way,

And buy my fruit and veg, on

Sunday market day

“Sun Burned” by Julie Cahill

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Sun Burned

 

Sun and surf, holidays and laughter 

unless the sunscreen is slapped on after 

the sun bites in and blisters appear

our hat blow off and lobsters adhere

our tents lay flat and our drinks slide away

sand-witches zap our bread into hay

buckets grow holes and spades lose their handles 

and wouldn’t you know it, we break our sandals

our towels turn all crunchy, the barbie explodes

the tide washes out and the shore erodes

the sand grows so hot that we scurry like mice 

wishing we’d taken the experts’ advice

‘Global warming,’ they had warned us ahead 

so we tread more carefully and change the thread 

care for our planet; reap new choices we’ve made

wearing sunscreen and hats; we play in the shade

holidays arrive . . . we all survive

‘Cheers!’ A toast with cool lemonade

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Veggies for tea” by Louise Pocock

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“Darling, here’s some broccoli

And spinach soup for tea:

With garlic, chopped potato

And a stick of celery.”

 

“Mum, I’d really much prefer

A juicy t-bone steak!

And don’t forget my veggies

Roasted in a carrot cake!”

 

“Ballet” by Ron Marsh

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BALLET

I went to ballet lessons,

I had to learn some French,

Like cabriole and brise,

And even battement.

 

There’s chasse,cinq and coda,

And sometimes pas de deux.

So I gave up and told my mum,

To sell my new tutu.

“The Boomerang Returns” by Jeanie Axton

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The Boomerang Returns 

 

Throw the boomerang high in the sky

Watch the ancient hunting tool fly

Throw it straight and throw it long

Up above this tool belongs

 

Try a lob and give it a boost

See it returning come home to roost

Keep on flinging into the sky

Practice makes perfect

Give it a try