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(to the tune of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star”) Honk, honk, honk, the poet’s way, Words like ripples on the bay. Quill in wing and heart so wide, Mother’s rhyme is by his side. Honk, honk, honk, from nest to sky — Let their verses never die.  

A shell may crack, a wing may stray, But words will find their pond, their way. From honk to hush, from quill to song, A rhyme endures, though winds blow strong. Two geese may quarrel, part, return, Yet still their shared verse hums and yearns. A feather dropped, a quill held tight — Together writing…

From golden egg to silver quill, This Goose has honked, and honked his fill. A memoir rich with wit and heart, A pondside tale, a feathered art. He struts, he stumbles, sings his song, Invites us all to honk along. A love revealed, a nest laid bare — A rhyme, a laugh, a tear, a…

Mother Goose is the calm at the heart of the storm, a figure of quiet wisdom, sharp wit, and steady resolve. Known across Nurseryland for her moral rhymes and measured words, she is far more than the bonneted matron of legend. Practical, observant, and unfailingly kind — though never a pushover — Mother Goose brings…

The verses that made the Elders wince, the Frog Chorus snicker, and Mother Goose raise an eyebrow. The Limerick That Launched a Thousand Gossip Columns There once was a goose at the pond, Of whom many ducks grew quite fond. He preened and he posed, And scandal arose — Now none of the Elders respond….

Collected from a lifetime of honks, scribbles, and stolen moments beneath the willow. The Ballad of the Brave Little Beetle A beetle so small, yet so bold, Faced a frog (or so I am told). With a wink and a grin, He declared, “I’ll win!” And left that poor frog in the cold. Ode to…