Geese are plucked as long as they have any feathers.
Related quotes
The men o' the east are pykin their geese, and sendin' their feathers here-awa there-awa.
He that eats the king's geese shall be choked with the feathers.
Political Economy
'I beg you to note,' said a Man to a Goose,
As he plucked from her bosom the plumage all loose,
'That pillows and cushions of feathers and beds
As warm as maids' hearts and as soft as their heads,
Increase of life's comforts the general sum
Which raises the standard of living.' 'Come, come,'
The Goose said, impatiently, 'tell me or cease,
How that is of any advantage to geese.'
'What, what!' said the man-'you are very obtuse!
Consumption no profit to those who produce?
No good to accrue to Supply from a grand
Progressive expansion, all round, of Demand?
Luxurious habits no benefit bring
To those who purvey the luxurious thing?
Consider, I pray you, my friend, how the growth
Of luxury promises-' 'Promises,' quoth
The sufferer, 'what?-to what course is it pledged
To pay me for being so often defledged?'
'Accustomed'-this notion the plucker expressed
As he ripped out a handful of down from her breast
'To one kind of luxury, people soon yearn
For others and ever for others in turn;
And the man who to-night on your feathers will rest,
His mutton or bacon or beef to digest,
His hunger to-morrow will wish to assuage
By dining on goose with a dressing of sage.'
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Feathers!
feathers on me
again and again
first to fly and now to earth rest
enable me to get ready
and carried me through you
anywhere there are feathers
like you said!
in me in you!
a very strange and intoxicating feeling
afterwards, that you traced my body
maybe i have gasp, of some lack of air!
in high feather, full feathers
you will be writhing with ecstacy
Very pleasurable for me
I feel extremely good
you make me a path a invisible way
eagle feathers very powerful
sound bird feathers very delicate
for tight places or open places
make his sound so soft
Ah! My God! ! !
give me the name of that medicine!
Feathers on me!
Feathers on you!
poem by Mirna Morgan
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Teardrop
Liz fraser
(love)love is a verb
Love is a doing word
Feathers on my breath
Gentle impulsion
Shakes me makes me lighter
Feathers on my breath
Teardrop on the fire
Feathers on my breath
In the night of matter
Black flowers blossom
Feathers on my breath
Black flowers blossom
Feathers on my breath
Teardrop on the fire
Feathers on my breath
Water is my eye
Most faithful my love
Feathers on my breath
Teardrop on the fire of a confession
Feathers on my breath
Most faithful my love
Feathers on my breath
Teardrop on the fire
Feathers on my breath
Stumbling a little (x2)
song performed by by Massive Attack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hiding With A Squab
'Have you run out of luck? '
Said the goose who left a flock of geese,
On an approach...
To what was thought,
To be a sitting duck plucked.
~No not at all.~
Replied a nearby pigeon,
Practicing ventriloquism...
And hiding with a squab,
Of witnessing young pigeons.
~My family and I,
Have grown tired of berries, popcorn and nuts.
And we decided to use a decoy,
To see what showed up.
But to my surprise,
A nosey goose has arrived.
Strutting with a pulchritude...
To annoy a duck...
My uncle disguised.
Telling me that I had talents,
The family thought could be put to better use.
And here you come strutting...
Believing a plucked duck has run out of luck,
When tonight a family of pigeons....
Are going to feast on cooked goose.
Something to feed the younger pigeons,
To lift them with an ego boost!
Get 'em boys! ~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Stocked Full of Clues
Before an egg is cracked...
A chicken is hatched from that.
To peck around until its feathers are plucked.
Then baked or fried,
Or perhaps made into soup.
That is stocked full of clues,
To cure most ills.
Put that noodle in your noggin and sip on it!
And don't dropp this if it's hot!
It is just that valuable.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There are no golden geese. There are only fat geese eating the food that could nourish more athletic opportunities for women.
quote by Donna A. Lopiano
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In painting feathers, you want to create the look of feathers, but if you try to paint all the feathers, you have nothing but disaster.
quote by John O'Neill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Noisy Geese
As the pink dawn rose
Over the mud flats
A serenity unmached
The glassy surface
Becoming a mirrior
For the rising hills
Its solitary wavering
From the noisy conversation
Broken down silence
By the 'Geese'
Waking from the
Roosting night
Ruffled feathers
Setting flight.
poem by Howard Johnson
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I Plucked A Rose From A Garden Green......
By Murtaza Abt
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
Of beauty never felt or seen,
Hoping that it would never wilt,
And always be as always been.
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
with a happy blissful heart,
And promised i would hold it tight,
And never would we part.
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
But little did i know,
That not in endless love and care,
But gardens do they grow.
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
And took it home with me,
But little did it stay the way,
The way t'was meant to be.
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
And it began to grieve,
Over gardens green and meadows lush,
As it was sad to leave.
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
And it began to wilt,
And wither in that unknown land,
it filled my heart with guilt.
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
And it began to die,
For happiness i had only asked,
But i began to cry.
....................................
I have p L ucked y O u from a garden green,
Your beauty i VE never felt or seen,
Hoping that YOU will never wilt,
And always be as always been.
09/Nov/09
poem by Murtaza Abt
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Geese Park
Geese Park,
Resting Place,
In Accra;
And, the President of Ghana,
John Evans Atta Mills was laid to rest.
Geese, peacocks, pigeons, doves and docks!
In a clean envirinment to pay their respect;
But, with a big pond around under tight security.
Face out of sand,
Words out of mind,
Works out of hands;
With mourners dressed in Red and Black! !
And, his resting place was at the Geese Park.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Never let the 'Hope' die...!
Hopes are feathers, a wish is a bird
One may find this simile a little absurd
Hold on, do not lose patience
As I will explain to you the essence
Behind this there is a theory
I shall relate this with a story
Feathers, they keep the bird warm
Likewise hopes keep our wishes strong
Clip the feathers and the bird will not fly
Were it not for hope our wishes would die
My fellow beings, listen to what i have to say
Keep on hoping, what you wish for will come your way
Let your wishes, as birds, freely fly
As long as your hope, you never let die.
poem by Ravi Singh
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Rubber Handcuffs and the Life-Prison called Freedom
Among the Felons
A pen-pusher for his bitter literature
Punished in a plastic cell.
A kind sentry probably a Homosexual
Purposely left the brass key in door front.
And the writer opens the cage door
Sees the bluish river up after a long time,
Stretches his feeble tattered wings
And tries to fly in the Melodramatic sky
It's Impossible!
Then only he realizes the next door cell inmate
A Pawnbroker notorious criminal
Who's plucked his all golden feathers!
* A humble dedication to my poet friend robyn selters!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Grandmas Feather Bed
This song appears on twelve albums, and was first released on the back home again album. it has been released on the greatest hits vol 2, favourites, changes, the country roads collection and ro
Ountain holiday albums. live versions also appear on the an evening with john denver, live in london, country classics, the very best of john denver (2 cd), the john denver collection - rocky mo
N high and live at the sydney opera house albums.
When I was a little bitty boy
Just up off-a floor
We used to go down to grandmas house
Every monthend or so
Wed chicken pie and country ham
n homemade butter on the bread
But the best darn thing about grandmas house
Was her great big feather bed
It was nine feet high and six feet wide
Soft as a downy chick
It was made from the feathers of forty-leven geese
Took a whole bolt of cloth for the tick
Itd hold eight kids n four hound dogs
And a piggy we stole from the shed
We didnt get much sleep but we had a lot of fun
On grandmas feather bed
After the supper wed sit around the fire
The old folksd spit and chew
Pa would talk about the farm and the war
And my grannd sing a ballad or two
Id sit and listen and watch the fire
Till the cobwebs filled my head
Next thing Id know Id wake up in the morning
In the middle of the old feather bed
It was nine feet high and six feet wide
Soft as a downy chick
It was made from the feathers of forty-leven geese
Took a whole bolt of cloth for the tick
Itd hold eight kids n four hound dogs
And a piggy we stole from the shed
We didnt get much sleep but we had a lot of fun
On grandmas feather bed
Well I love my ma, I love my pa
Love granny and grandpa too
Been fishing with my uncle, I rassled with my cousin
I even kissed aunt lou
But if ever had to make a choice
I guess it ought to be said
That Id trade them all plus the gal down the road
For grandmas feather bed
It was nine feet high and six feet wide
Soft as a downy chick
It was made from the feathers of forty-leven geese
Took a whole bolt of cloth for the tick
Itd hold eight kids n four hound dogs
And a piggy we stole from the shed
We didnt get much sleep but we had a lot of fun
On grandmas feather bed
Words and music by jim connor
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Last Word
Creep into thy narrow bed,
Creep, and let no more be said!
Vain thy onset! all stands fast.
Thou thyself must break at last.
Let the long contention cease!
Geese are swans, and swans are geese.
Let them have it how they will!
Thou art tired: best be still.
They out-talked thee, hissed thee, tore thee?
Better men fared thus before thee;
Fired their ringing shot and passed,
Hotly charged - and sank at last.
Charge once more, then, and be dumb!
Let the victors, when they come,
When the forts of folly fall,
Find thy body by the wall!
poem by Matthew Arnold
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Wearing Necklaces Made From Rhinestones
Many times over the years,
After I have submitted my depictions...
In poetic description to be critiqued,
A few with their feathers plucked...
Would ask with their thumbs sucked,
From where do I get my 'sing-song' delusions.
And these comments always seem to come from those,
Swinging back and forth with their eyes and minds closed...
Inside the comfort of their gilded cages.
Where they feel free,
To flutter with a flittering around gleefully...
While wearing necklaces made from rhinestones.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Love Is Winged For Two
Love is winged for two,
In the worst he weathers,
When their hearts are tied;
But if they divide,
O too true!
Cracks a globe, and feathers, feathers,
Feathers all the ground bestrew.
I was breast of morning sea,
Rosy plume on forest dun,
I the laugh in rainy fleeces,
While with me
She made one.
Now must we pick up our pieces,
For that then so winged were we.
poem by George Meredith
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The Unicorn
A long time ago, when the earth was green
and there was more kinds of animals than you've ever seen,
and they run around free while the world was bein' born,
and the lovliest of all was the Unicorn.
There was green alligators and long-neck geese.
There was humpy bumpy camels and chimpanzees.
There was catsandratsandelephants, but sure as you're born
the lovliest of all was the Unicorn.
But the Lord seen some sinnin', and it caused him pain.
He says, 'Stand back, I'm gonna make it rain.'
He says, 'Hey Brother Noah, I'll tell ya whatcha do.
Go and build me a floatin' zoo.
And you take two alligators and a couple of geese,
two humpy bumpy camels and two chimpanzees.
Take two catsandratsandelephants, but sure as you're born,
Noah, don't you forget my Unicorn.'
Now Noah was there, he answered the callin'
and he finished up the ark just as the rain was fallin'.
He marched in the animals two by two,
and he called out as they went through,
'Hey Lord, I got your two alligators and your couple of geese,
your humpy bumpy camels and your chimpanzees.
Got your catsandratsandelephants - but Lord, I'm so forlorn
'cause I just don't see no Unicorn.'
Ol' Noah looked out through the drivin' rain
but the Unicorns were hidin', playin' silly games.
They were kickin' and splashin' in the misty morn,
oh them silly Unicorn.
The the goat started goatin', and the snake started snakin',
the elephant started elephantin', and the boat started shaking'.
The mouse started squeakin', and the lion started roarin',
and everyone's abourd but the Unicorn.
I mean the green alligators and the long-neck geese,
the humpy bumpy camels and the chimpanzees.
Noah cried, 'Close the door 'cause the rain is pourin' -
and we just can't wait for them Unicorn.'
Then the ark started movin', and it drifted with the tide,
and the Unicorns looked up from the rock and cried.
And the water come up and sort of floated them away -
that's why you've never seen a Unicorn to this day.
You'll see a lot of alligators and a whole mess of geese.
You'll see humpy bumpy camels and lots of chimpanzees.
You'll see catsandratsandelephants, but sure as you're born
you're never gonna see no Unicorn
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Lift Me Up Like You've Plucked a Buttercup
When you come around finding you have found,
You've settled down.
With slowed jets ready to quit your lippin'
And prepared to sit and begin to listen'...
You've done shifted from a drifter position.
And it's there to be gripped!
All that life has blessed you with!
ooo-ooo
Many in fits can't handle what they get.
And they seek partnerships...
That end in arguments,
Gone ballistic.
Left in realistic lethal pieces.
Lift me up!
Like you've plucked a buttercup,
From your weaving...
Through the weeds you've been sneezing.
Lift me up!
Like you've plucked a buttercup,
From your weaving...
Through the weeds you've been breathing.
Just leave don't mention...
Any attitude you've got,
That's dropped you mopin'!
Take a little whiff of me I'll free you easy.
I'm that destiny you need.
Lift me up!
Like you've plucked a buttercup,
From your weaving...
Through the weeds you've been sneezing.
Lift me up!
Like you've plucked a buttercup,
From your weaving...
Through the weeds you've been breathing.
When you come around finding you have found,
You've settled down.
With slowed jets ready to quit your lippin'
And prepared to sit and begin to listen'...
You've done shifted from a drifter position.
And it's there to be gripped!
All that life has blessed you with!
ooo-ooo
Lift me up!
Like you've plucked a buttercup,
From your weaving...
Through the weeds you've been sneezing.
Lift me up!
Like you've plucked a buttercup,
From your weaving...
Through the weeds you've been breathing.
ooo-ooo
Just Lift me up!
Like you've plucked a buttercup,
From your weaving...
Through the weeds you've been sneezing.
Lift me up!
Like you've plucked a buttercup,
From your weaving...
Through the weeds you've been breathing.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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