(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…[...]

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…[...]

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…[...]

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…[...]

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…[...]

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…[...]

Father Goose is the bard of Nurseryland, a goose of grand ambitions, poetic inclinations, and a penchant for both bluster and self-deprecation. He struts through life with a quill tucked…[...]

(An exclusive bonus adventure for readers of Father Goose: A Memoir — My Life with Mother) 🌙 It began, as these things often do, on a moonlit night at the…[...]

His egg wasn’t actually golden. Despite the myths, Father Goose insists his egg was amber — though he didn’t mind when the legends upgraded it. He invented the Honk-Limerick by…[...]