Thursday, November 10, 2011

Golden Gooseberries

asks us for an alliterative verse

I have been inspired by the picture of gooseberries on the above blog page.
Ripe ones were a feature of my childhood. 
The hairy sort do not grow in Australia and I miss them.
Hence my alliterative poem.


The golden gooseberries hung in splendour,
On my grandfather's garden fence.
Tantalising in fine fulfilment;
Round and illegally immense.
Illegal because the garden grower
Fiercely forbade our tender touch;
Gooseberries were for jams and jellies;
Dessert delights we loved so much.
But how they gleamed and glowed rotundly
Globular, golden, mouthwatering too.
We children chose to ogle odd ones,
Till growling Grandpa came in view.
Green gooseberries had a very sour taste,
Ripe red ones were always past their best.
The golden gooseberries! Pure perfection!
We'd steal one and leave the rest.



So much to admire in this cover!
For one thing it's sizzling red!
Red is excitingly vivid......
Makes you want to leap straight out of bed
And go on a thrilling adventure,
To places a long way away,
Stopping a while on the journey,
When locations invite you to stay.
The dotted-line road is so wayward;
It even coils right off the map,
While the little red car that you're driving
Is aiming to land in your lap!
We notice the folds in the paper,
Which give it an authentic touch,
Like a map that you keep in your glove-box,
A map that gets folded too much.
The work of a clever designer,
This cover does all that it  should
To entice us inside to discover
If the content is equally good.


Anonymous said...

This is brilliant! Leaves me with a wide smile on my face since the only times in my life I have ever nicked/stolen/purloined anything ever it was gooseberries from my grandparents' next door neighbours... How could you not, though? *smile* I really, really enjoyed this, and you used alliteration stunningly well as well!

Kay L. Davies said...

I always forget about my gooseberries until they're bright red, and then, as you said, they're past their best. The birds seem to like them, though.
Enjoyed your alliterative poem, Brenda.

Kay, Alberta, Canada
An Unfittie’s Guide to Adventurous Travel