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Jackie Mead Sep 5
We’re going on a duck hunt; just granny and me!
We’re going on a duck hunt, let me tell you what we see.

We are going to the river, with a bag of stale bread.
Fighting off seagulls and pigeons as they hover above our heads.

We will pass by the riverbanks where grasses and trees grow tall.
Watching and listening to the river as it tumbles, rolls, and roars.

We will see flowers of different colours.  White daisies, yellow buttercups, blue cornflowers, covering the parklands in a dazzling display.
My Granny says seeing the kaleidoscope of colours makes her day!

We will pass by rabbits hopping about their homes of grassy mounds.
Every now and then pricking up their ears; listening to every sound.

We will pass by geese gathered in a gaggle.
Big bottomed geese walking with a waggle.

We will pass by swans gliding with their necks held high.
Several young cygnets tucked in and swimming by their mums side.

We will pass all these wonders of nature as we make our way to the ducks.
Listening for every quack and cluck.

We reach our goal with a bag of bread in-hand.
Throwing the bread to the ducks who say thank you with a “quack” and a “cluck.”
Before you know it, the swans are there too.  Then the seagulls and pigeons “shoosh, go away you!”

Ducks are the best of the lot you see.  They make me laugh; I think they are funny.
No particular reason but my granny says, “It is because I am only three.”

We’re going on a duck hunt; just granny and me!
We’re going on a duck hunt, to feed the ducks their tea.
Ah, the best days are spent with my three-year-old grandson.  It's the little things we cherish.
Norman Crane Aug 24
Ducks upon the surface of a lake
Of man-made run off
What great ripples they make
Diving under, flapping their wings
Without asking I wonder
Why for ducks water is water
Glacial or sewer-bound
Backswamp or uptown reservoir
It's not maker but mark which matters
So why is this distinction so profound to me?
Why Nature's acts
     Do I endeavour to explain
Whereas for man's
     I seek firstly to lay blame?
Demi May 13
I watch a couple outside, they howl,
shove, whip up a tornado that
tears them to shreds.
If only and how and why!

Next day, two ducks land in my
garden. They sleep in tandem and work
together chasing off a sneaky stout crow.  
Under the sycamore,

they exist in this moment,
only this one.
Saige Apr 3
Little tails wiggle waggle up and down the walk,
I follow after their orange laughter, wishing they could talk.

Well, talk they can, and talk they do,
While I am listening out of view.

I giggle at their rubber feet flip-flopping on the ground
and smile at their velvet feathers while I try to make no sound.

When I get close, food bowl in hand, trying to gain their trust
They quack a warning that says 'Stay clear!' - my mission is a bust!

The little couple waddle on, eyeing me with care,
I watch until I see them taking off into the air.

Now I'm waiting for tomorrow when I hope to see them,
Margaret and Philip, as I have fondly named them.
If you like to go to the park and feed ducks (like I do), please consider this: Bread is not good for the ducks' health. Yeah, they love to eat it, but it's like junk food for them -- it doesn't provide the nutrients and minerals that they need.
SO PLEASE: If you want to feed the ducks, consider getting cracked corn, birdseed, barley, oats, frozen peas or corn, halved grapes or duck feed for them. The ducklings will thank you.
✔️: 🌽🍇

🚫: 🍞 🍿🍩 🍪
Tallen the Mighty Thrower
by Michael R. Burch

Tallen the Mighty Thrower
is a hero to turtles, geese, ducks ...
they splash and they cheer
when he tosses bread near
because, you know, eating grass *****!

Keywords/Tags: child, children, boy, thrower, throwing, bread, turtles, geese, ducks, grass
Our feet scuffed drying ruts
along the riverbank
and we gave the land
our thanks for holding up

Alongside us, green bright head
a duck and drake kept pace

I know the quizzical eye
was a bread request
but you’re as lucky as the rest of us

Above us, swimming languid
in unbounded blue
two buzzards circled

My mind got to thinking:
what fate are they
hoping for?
The Mallard
(a limerick for adults, teens and older children)
by Michael R. Burch

The mallard is a fellow
whose lips are long and yellow
with which he, honking, kisses
his *****, boisterous mistress;
my pond’s their loud bordello!

Keywords/Tags: limerick, light verse, nonsense verse, humor, humorous, animals, nature, ducks, love, ***, desire, passion, Lothario, mistress, noise, copulation, doing it
Cana Aug 2018
Ripples riddle the mirror,
Below, faint shapes shift
Elegant forms float here and there,
Little legs thunder, leaving a gentle wake
in lieu of turmoil.

The air is thick, the sun falling,
Already lost behind billowing storm clouds
Etched chaotically on the horizon.
Invisible but for the ubiquitous light.

It is the dragonflies time,
A darting zip and an effortless flutter.
From surfacing **** to towering Reed,
Searching for something we can only pretend to know.

Determined housewives, faces set,
Arms pumping and hips swaying
Their Anatidean waddle so fitting
Their quacks, a wall of stereo.

A lone rusted sign warns of gators,
but of signs, there is that one alone.
No rogue bubbles or beady eyes,
no ticking of swallowed clocks,
no suspicious splashes.

My battery is now as low as the sun,
and my pen is as empty.
A not so subtle poke in the ribs
from a universe in protest of the
bad poetry being inked.

c'est la vie
or as we say in English
**** it
Tuesday evening park sit. Waiting, watching, and stuff.
I wrote his sober, so I cannot be held accountable.
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