Short Goslings Poems

Greyish geese gabbling
Goslings greedily gouging
Gardens green grass gone...

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Greyish geese gabbling
Goslings greedily gouging
Gardens green grass gone...

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Click bait promised me 
"Gosling's Favorite Movies" 
but there were no goslings, 
just some boring guy
named Brian....

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three geese left from six
two babies went missing
and then the father
dead in the road
mother keeps the almost grown
goslings
close to her now
in the pond when we walk by
away from the dog
and 
cars....

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Their art is not less enticing 
than a Renoir or Botticelli,
but the light of their charm is vacuous.
They love that backlit glow
if it highlights only upon them,
but that glitter is only a penumbra.
Goslings have more light
as they follow
a glimmer of imprinted blood.
Snails exude more illumination....

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the goslings have shed ochre puffs
                 which are no longer in vogue,
           they're wobbling toddlers now
    too big for the snappers' jaw
           they cannot fly at all- as of yet
                  but come fall they'll knead icy skies
                       into warm southern comfort beds...

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Clouds fill to the brim 
Clear as glass descends 
Falling from the sky 
Rain drops fall to earth 
Water everywhere. 

Wet, mama goose, 
and her goslings 
Waddle across 
Drizzling shower. 

Frogs croaking 
Tapping sounds 
On pond face. 

Flowers 
Drench in 

Rain.

6/24/2022


Sponsor	Caren Krutsinger
Contest Name	Diminished Hexaverse Contest Your Choice of Subject...

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Mushrooms peak b'neath
the moon, and rabbits charm'd by grass

do swoon. Where tulip's petals once
so strong, unite the fall'n, one

last song. Once again the goslings
wander, stray not
 far from

nipping mother.
 The winds will

howl in sheets of rain,
 grandma snug,
wrapped

in her shawl.
 Aside the fire, pen
will bend,

 this poem

 on         birchbark,


  ...peace

 the end.



05/26/13
© All Rights Reserved...

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we are but young goslings
drowning in yesterday's sorrow
torn and tattered feathers
matted with the hopes of tomorrow

wrecklessly swimming
toward rising tides of tears
leading to dangerous currents
a gigantic waterfall of fears 

whom shall save us
other than Mother Goose herself
that old book of experienced wisdom
that remains hidden upon the shelf...


Dedicated to Scorp for holding "the flock" together,
especially through the hard times. Thanks for being there....Peace...

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