hiss (Remove filter)
Five Goslings
Fledging at the speed of light
They patter like tap-dancers
Banqueting on chick-crumb
Soon, stately as Aldermen, and
Ripping at grass like tigers
They'll face into the rain
Abruptly the salad days will end
No more feinting at the post-man
Come Christmas they'll hiss in vain
Wednesday 29th April 2020 11:19 am
Recent Comments
Stephen Gospage on Real.
2 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Propaganda
2 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Old Men
2 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Live Wide Awake
2 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Sat Navigation
2 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The cowboy and the royal
3 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Uncharted Light
3 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Real.
3 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on they thread between us
3 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Her Flower
3 hours ago